Walker shook his head. “Can’t do it. Legal discussions are privileged.”
Reacher stared at him. “You really think it was a lawyer?”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course not. It was some guy, threatening her, forcing her to lie. Think about it, Walker. First time your ADA saw her, she wouldn’t say a word.
Twenty-seven hours later, she’s confessing. Only thing that happened in between was a bunch of calls from this guy.”
“But what kind of threat could make her say that?”
The killing crew was uneasy in its new role as baby-sitter. Each member felt exactly the same way, each for the exact same reasons. Holding a child hostage was not a normal part of their expertise. Taking her in the first place had been. That was a fairly standard operation, based as always on lure and deception. The woman and the tall fair man had gone to the Red House as a pair, because they figured that would match the public’s perception of how social workers operate. They had arrived in the big official-looking sedan and used a brisk professional manner. They had mixed it with a generous helping of pious do-gooder sanctimony, like they were desperately concerned with the child’s welfare above all else. They had a thick wad of bogus papers to display. The papers looked exactly like Family Services warrants and relevant authorizations from state agencies. But the grandmother hardly even looked at them. She offered no resistance at all. It struck them as unnatural. She just handed the kid over, like she was real glad about it.
The kid put up no resistance, either. She was very earnest and silent about the whole thing. Like she was trying to be on her best behavior. Like she was trying to please these new adults. So they just put her in the car and drove her away. No tears, no screaming, no tantrums. It went well, all things considered. Very well. About as effortless as the Al Eugene operation.
But then they departed from the usual. Radically. Standard practice would have been to drive straight to a scouted location and pull the triggers. Conceal the body and then get the hell out. But this task was different. They had to keep her hidden. And alive and unharmed. At least for a spell. Maybe days and days. It was something they had never done before. And professionals get uneasy with things they’ve never done before. They always do. That’s the nature of professionalism. Professionals feel best when they stick to what they know.
“Call Family Services,” Reacher said. “Right now.”
Hack Walker just stared at him.
“You asked the question,” Reacher said. “What kind of a threat could make her confess to something she didn’t do? Don’t you see? They must have gotten her kid.”
Walker stared a beat longer, frozen. Then he wrestled himself into action and unlocked another drawer and rattled it open. Lifted out a heavy black binder. Opened it up and thumbed through and grabbed his phone and dialed a number. There was no answer. He dabbed the cradle and dialed another. Some kind of an evening emergency contact. It was picked up and he asked the question, using Ellie’s full name, Mary Ellen Greer. There was a long pause. Then an answer. Walker listened. Said nothing. Just put the phone down, very slowly and carefully, like it was made out of glass.
“They never heard of her,” he said.
Silence. Walker closed his eyes, and then opened them again.
“O.K.,” he said. “Resources are going to be a problem. State police, of course. And the FBI, because this is a kidnap. But we’ve got to move immediately. Speed is absolutely paramount here. It always is, with kidnap cases. They could be taking her anywhere. So I want you two to go down to Echo right now, get the full story from Rusty. Descriptions and everything.”
“Rusty won’t talk to us,” Reacher said. “She’s too hostile. What about the Echo sheriff?”
“That guy is useless. He’s probably drunk right now. You’ll have to do it.”
“Waste of time,” Reacher said.
Walker opened another drawer and took two chromium stars from a box. Tossed them onto the desk.