Worth Dying For_ A Reacher Novel - Lee Child [129]
“Where was that?”
“Around the base of that old barn. Windblown seeds, I guess. People plow close, but they leave some space.”
“You think she rode there on her own?”
“I think it’s possible. Maybe she knew the one place she was sure to see flowers. And maybe someone knew she knew.”
Chapter 51
The Duncans had moved on to Jonas’s kitchen, because the taped window in Jasper’s was leaking cold air, and the burning fabric in the stove was making smoke and smells. They had stopped drinking bourbon and had started drinking coffee. The sun was up and the day was already forty minutes old. Jacob Duncan checked the clock on the wall and said, “The sun is up in Canada too. Dawn was about ten minutes ago. I bet the shipment is already rolling. I know that boy. He likes an early start. He’s a good man. He doesn’t waste time. The transfer will be happening soon.”
The road that led south from Medicine Hat petered out after Pakowki Lake. The blacktop surface finished with a ragged edge, and then there was a quarter-mile of exposed roadbed, just crushed stone bound with tar, and then that finished too, in a forest clearing with no apparent exit. But the white van lined up between two pines and drove over stunted underbrush and found itself on a rutted track, once wide, now neglected, a firebreak running due south, designed with flames and westerly winds in mind. The van rolled slowly, tipping left and right, its wheels moving up and down independently, like walking. Ahead of it was nothing but trees, and then the Montana town of Hogg Parish. But the van would stop halfway there, a little more than two miles short of the border, at the northern limit of the safe zone, exactly symmetrical with its opposite number in America, which was no doubt already in place and waiting, all fresh and energetic and ready for the last leg of the journey.
The doctor went back to the kitchen and returned with more coffee. He said, “It could have been an accident. Maybe she went inside the barn.”
Reacher said, “With her bicycle?”
“It’s possible. We don’t know enough about her. Some kids would dump a bike on the track, and others would wheel it inside. It’s a matter of personality. Then she might have injured herself on something in there. Or gotten stuck. The door is jammed now. Maybe it was balky then. She could have gotten trapped. No one would have heard her shouting.”
“And then what?”
“An eight-year-old without food or water, she wouldn’t have lasted long.”
“Not a pleasant thought,” Reacher said.
“But preferable to some of the alternatives.”
“Maybe.”
“Or she might have gotten hit by a truck. Or a car. On the way over there. You said it yourself, the roads could have been busy. Maybe the driver panicked and hid the body. And the bike with it.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. In that barn, or miles away. In another county. Another state, even. Maybe that’s why nothing was ever found.”
“Maybe,” Reacher said again.
The doctor went quiet.
Reacher said, “Now there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“There’s time.”
“How much?”
“Probably half an hour.”
“Before what?”
“The other three Cornhuskers will come here for breakfast. Their buddies are here, so this is their temporary base. They’ll make my wife cook for them. They enjoy feudal stuff like that.”
“I figured,” Reacher said. “I’ll be ready.”
“One of them is the guy who broke your nose.”
“I know.”
The doctor said nothing.
Reacher said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“What?”
“Is your garage like your garden or like your television set?”
“More like my television set.”
“That’s good. So turn around and watch the road. I’ll be back in ten.” Reacher picked up the Remington and found his way through the kitchen to the mud room lobby. He found the door that led to the garage. It was a big space, empty because the Subaru was still at the motel, and neat and clean, with a swept floor and no visible