“The Army teach you to drive this fast?” Harper asked.
futUltM filing 187
He made no reply. They passed a town called Sprague and the road straightened. Blake’s map had shown it dead straight all the way to a town called Ritzville, twenty-something miles ahead. Reacher eased up toward eighty miles an hour, but the headlights behind were still closing fast. A long moment later a car blasted past them, a long low sedan, a wide maneuver, turbulent slipstream, a full quarter-mile in the opposite lane. Then it eased back right and pulled on ahead like the FBI’s Buick was crawling through a parking lot.
” That’s fast,” Reacher said.
“Maybe that’s the guy,” Harper said sleepily. “Maybe he’s heading down to Portland too. Maybe we’ll get him tonight.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Reacher said. “I don’t think he drives. I think he flies.”
But he eased the speed a little higher anyway, to keep the distant taillights in sight.
“And then what?” Harper said. “He rents a car at the local airport?”
Reacher nodded in the dark. “That’s my guess. Those tire prints they found? Very standard size. Probably some anonymous midsize midrange sedan the rental companies have millions of.”
“Risky,” Harper said. “Renting cars leaves a paper trail.”
Reacher nodded again. “So does buying airplane tickets. But this guy is real organized. I’m sure he’s got cast-iron false ID. Following the paper trail won’t get anybody anywhere.”
“Well, we’ll do it anyway, I guess. And it means he’s been face-to-face with people at the rental counters.”
“Maybe not. Maybe he books ahead and gets express pickup.”
Harper nodded. “The return guy would see him, though.”
“Briefly.”
The road was straight enough to see the fast car a mile ahead. Reacher found himself easing up over ninety, pacing himself behind it.
“How long does it take to kill a person?” Harper asked.
“Depends how you do it,” Reacher said.
“And we don’t know how he’s doing it.”
“No, we don’t. That’s something we need to figure. But whatever way, he’s pretty calm and careful about it. No mess anywhere, no spilled paint. My guess is it’s got to be twenty, thirty minutes, minimum.”
Harper nodded and stretched. Reacher caught a breath of her perfume as she moved.
188
l”&d< "So think about Spokane," she said. "He gets off the plane, picks up the car, drives a half hour to Alison's place, spends a half hour there, drives a half hour back, and gets the hell out. He wouldn't hang around, right?" "Not near the scene, I guess," Reacher said. "So the rental car could be returned within less than two hours. We should check real short rentals from the airports local to the scenes, see if there's a pattern." Reacher nodded. "Yes, you should. That's how you'll do this thing, regular hard work." \ Harper moved again. Turned sideways in her seat. "Sometimes you say we I and sometimes you say you. You haven't made up your mind, but you're softening a little, you know that?" "I liked Alison, I guess, what I saw of her." "And?" , "And I like Rita Scimeca too, what I remember of her. I wouldn't want any ;!' thing to happen." , Harper craned her head and watched the taillights a mile ahead. " "So keep that guy in sight," she said. . "He flies," Reacher said. "That's not the guy." I L 'm I Ji wasn't the guy. At the far limit of Ritzville he stayed on Route 90, swing '^^ ing west toward Seattle. Reacher peeled off south onto 395, heading straight for Oregon. The road was still empty, but it was narrower and twistier, so he took some of the urgency out of his pace and let the car settle back to its natural cruise. "Tell me about Rita Scimeca," Harper said. I _I Reacher shrugged at the wheel. "She was a little like Alison Lamarr, I guess. ' * Didn't look the same, but she had the same feel about her. Tough, sporty, capa jj ble. Very unfazed by anything, as I recall. She was a second lieutenant. Great \m record. She blitzed the officer training." I * He fell silent. He was picturing Rita Scimeca in his mind, and imagining ~