fourteen point, bold. The statement was five words long, split
between two lines in the centre of the page: It’s going to happen
soon. The three words It’s going to made up the first line on
their own. The happen soon part was alone on the second line. It
looked like a poem or a song lyric. Like it was divided up that
way for a dramatic purpose, like there should be a pause
between the lines, or a breath, or a drum roll, or a rim shot. It’s
going to . . . barn! . . . happen soon. Reacher stared at it. The
effect was hypnotic. Happen soon. Happen soon. ‘Don’t touch it,’ Froelih said.
‘Wasn’t going to,’ Reacher replied.
He ducked his head back out of the door and checked the
street. All the nearby cars were empty. All the nearby windows
were closed and draped. No pedestrians. No loiterers in the
dark. All was quiet. He came back inside and closed the door
234
slowly and carefully, so as not to disturb the paper with a
draught.
How did they get it in here?’ Froelich said.
q’hrough the door,’ Reacher said. ‘Probably at the back.’
Froelich pulled the SIG-Sauer from her holster and they
walked through the living room together and into the kitchen.
The door to the back yard was closed, but it was unlocked.
Reacher opened it a foot. Scanned the outside surroundings and
saw nothing at all. Eased the door back wide so the inside light
fell onto the exterior surface. Leaned close and looked at the
scratch plate around the key hole.
‘Marks,’ he said. ‘Very small. They were pretty good.’
“rhey’re here in D.C.,’ she said. ‘Right now. They’re not in
some Midwest bar.’
She stared through the kitchen into the living room.
l’he phone,’ she said.
It was pulled out of position on the table next to the fireside
chair.
q’hey used my phone,’ she said.
q’o call me, probably,’ Reacher said.
‘Prints?’
He shook his head. ‘Gloves.’
q’hey’ve been in my house,’ she said.
She moved away from the rear door and stopped at the
kitchen counter. Glanced down at something and snatched
open a drawer.
qhey took my gun,’ she said. ‘I had a back-up gun in here.’
‘I know,’ Reacher said. ‘An old Beretta.’
She opened the drawer next to it. he magazines are gone
too,’ she said. ‘I had ammo in here.’.
‘I know,’ Reacher said again. ‘Under an oven glove.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I checked, Monday night.’
‘Why would you?’
‘Habit,’ he said. ‘Don’t take it personally.’
She stared at him and then opened the wall cupboard with
the money stash in it. He saw her check the earthenware pot.
She said nothing, so he assumed the cash was still there. He
filed the observation away in the professional corner of his
235
mind, as confirmation of a long-held belief: people don’t like
searching above head height.
Then she stiffened. A new thought.
q’hey might still be in the house,’ she said, quietly.
But she didn’t move. It was the first sign of fear he had ever
seen from her.
‘I’ll check,’ he said. ‘Unless that’s an unhealthy response to a
challenge.’
She just handed him her pistol. He turned out the kitchen
light so he wouldn’t be silhouetted on the basement stairs and
walked slowly down. Listened hard past the creaks and sighs of
the house, and the hum and trickle of the heating system. Stood
still in the dark and let his eyes adjust. There was nobody there.
Nobody upstairs, either. Nobody hiding and waiting. People
hiding and waiting give off human vibrations. Tiny hums and
quivers. And he wasn’t feeling anything. The house was empty
and undisturbed, apart from the displaced telephone and the
missing Beretta and the message on the hallway floor. He came
back to the kitchen and held out the SIG, butt first.
‘Secure,’ he said.
‘I better make some calls,’ she said.
Special Agent Bannon showed up forty, minutes later in a
Bureau sedan with three members of his task force. Stuyvesant
arrived five minutes after them in a department Suburban. They
left both vehicles double-parked in the street with their strobes