CHAPTER 66

THE KID WAS instantly recognizable from the imperfect Xerox Reacher had seen on the desk in the Dakota bedroom. She was about a year older than she had been in the picture but she had the same long dark hair, slightly wavy, as fine as silk, and the same green eyes, and the same porcelain skin. It had been a striking photograph, but the reality was way better. Jade Lane was a truly beautiful child.

“My name is Lauren,” Pauling said. “This man is called Reacher.”

Jade nodded her head. Grave and serious. She said nothing. Didn’t come closer. She was wearing a summer dress, sleeveless, green seersucker stripes. Maybe from Bloomingdale’s on Lexington Avenue. Maybe one of her favorite garments. Maybe part of her hasty and unwise packing. She had white socks on, and thin summer sandals. They were dusty.

Pauling said, “We’re here to talk to the grown-ups. Do you know where they are?”

Thirty feet away Jade nodded her head again. Said nothing.

Pauling asked, “Where are they?”

A voice thirty feet away in the other direction said, “One of them is right here, lady,” and Kate Lane stepped out from around the other corner of the house. She was pretty much unchanged from her photograph, too. Dark hair, green eyes, high cheekbones, a bud of a mouth. Extremely, impossibly beautiful. Maybe a little more tired than she had been in the photographer’s studio. Maybe a little more stressed. But definitively the same woman. Outside of what the portrait had shown she was maybe five feet nine inches tall, not much more than a hundred and fifteen pounds, slim and willowy. Exactly what an ex-model should look like, Reacher figured. She was wearing a man’s flannel shirt, big and clearly borrowed. She looked great in it. But then, she would have looked great in a garbage bag with holes torn for her arms and legs and head.

“I’m Susan Jackson,” she said.

Reacher shook his head. “You’re not, but I’m very glad to meet you anyway. And Jade, too. You’ll never know how glad I am.”

“I’m Susan Jackson,” she said again. “That’s Melody.”

“We don’t have time for that, Kate. And your accent isn’t real convincing anyway.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Reacher.”

“What do you want?”

“Where’s Taylor?”

“Who?”

Reacher glanced back at Jade and then took a step toward Kate. “Can we talk? Maybe a little ways down the track?”

“Why?”

“For privacy.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to upset your daughter.”

“She knows what’s going on.”

“OK,” Reacher said. “We’re here to warn you.”

“About what?”

“Edward Lane is an hour behind us. Maybe less.”

“Edward is here?” Kate said. For the first time, real fear in her face. “Edward is here in England? Already?”

Reacher nodded. “Heading this way.”

“Who are you?”

“He paid me to find Taylor.”

“So why warn us?”

“Because I just figured out it wasn’t for real.”

Kate said nothing.

“Where’s Taylor?” Reacher asked again.

“He’s out,” Kate said. “With Tony.”

“Anthony Jackson? The brother-in-law?”

Kate nodded. “This is his farm.”

“Where did they go?”

“To Norwich. For a part for the backhoe. They said we need to dredge some ditches.”

“When did they leave?”

“About two hours ago.”

Reacher nodded again. Norwich. The big city. Thirty miles there, thirty miles back. About a two-hour trip. He glanced south at the road. Nothing moving on it.

“Let’s all go inside,” he said.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“You do,” Reacher said. “Right now I’m your best friend.”

Kate stared at Pauling for a moment and seemed reassured by the presence of another woman. She blinked once and opened the front door. Led them all in. The farmhouse itself was dark and cold inside. It had low beamed ceilings and irregular stone floors. Thick walls and flowered wallpaper and small leaded windows. The kitchen was the hub of the home. That was clear. It was a large rectangular room. There were bright copper pans hanging from hooks and sofas and armchairs and a fireplace big enough to live in and a huge old-fashioned range. There was a massive oak dining table with twelve chairs around it and a separate pine desk with a phone and stacks of papers and envelopes and jars of pens and pencils and postage stamps and rubber bands. All the furniture was old and worn and comfortable and smelled of dogs, even though there were no dogs in the house. They had belonged to the previous owners, maybe. Maybe the furniture had been included in the sale. Maybe there had been bankruptcy problems.

Reacher said, “I think you should get out, Kate. Right now. You and Jade. Until we see what happens.”

“How?” Kate asked. “The truck isn’t here.”

“Take our car.”

“I’ve never driven here before. I’ve never even been here before.”

Pauling said, “I’ll drive you.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you want to go. Until we see what happens.”

“Is he really here already?”

Pauling nodded. “He left London at least an hour ago.”

“Does he know?”

“That it was all a sham? Not yet.”

“OK,” Kate said. “Take us somewhere. Anywhere. Now. Please.”

She stood up and grabbed Jade’s hand. No purse, no coat. She was ready to go, right there and then. No pause, no hesitation. Just panic. Reacher tossed Pauling the Mini’s keys and followed them all outside again. Jade climbed through to the tiny car’s rear bench and Kate got in next to Pauling. Pauling adjusted the seat and the mirror and clipped her belt and started the engine.

“Wait,” Reacher said.

On the road a mile to the west he could see a dark green shape moving fast behind a stand of trees. Green paint. Glinting in the watery sun. Clean and polished and shiny, not filthy like the farm truck.

A mile away. Ninety seconds. No time.

“Everybody back in the house,” he said. “Right now.”