The small dark man froze in shock for a split second and then let Ellie go and turned and scrabbled desperately toward the credenza. Reacher batted away the splintered frame and got there first and caught him by the throat with his right hand and jammed him back against the wall and followed up with a colossal left to the gut and let him fall and kicked him once in the head, very hard. Saw his eyes roll up into his skull. Then he breathed in and out like a train and gasped and shuffled his feet and flexed his hands and fought the temptation to kick him to death.
Then he turned to Ellie.
“You O.K.?” he asked.
She nodded. Paused in the sudden silence.
“He’s a bad man,” she said. “I think he was going to shoot me.”
He paused in turn. Fought to control his breathing.
“He can’t do that now,” he said.
“There was thunder and lightning.”
“I heard it too. I was outside. Got all wet.”
She nodded. “It rained a whole lot.”
“You O.K.?” he asked for the second time.
She just thought about it and nodded. She was very composed. Very serious. No tears, no screaming. The room went absolutely quiet. The action had lasted all of three seconds, beginning to end. It was like it hadn’t happened at all. But the rock from the garden was lying there in the middle of the floor, nested in shards of broken glass. He picked it up and carried it to the shattered window and tipped it through. It crunched on the gravel and rolled away.
“You O.K.?” he asked for the third time.
Ellie nodded. He picked up the phone and dialed zero. The night guy answered. Reacher told him to send Alice down to room five. Then he walked over and unlatched the chain and unlocked the door. Left it propped open. It set up a breeze, all the way through the room to the broken window. The outside air was damp. And warm. Warmer than the inside air.
“You O.K.?” he asked for the fourth time.
“Yes,” Ellie said. “I’m O.K.”
Alice stepped inside a minute later. Ellie looked at her, curiously.
“This is Alice,” Reacher said. “She’s helping your mom.”
“Where is my mom?”
“She’ll be with you soon,” Alice said.
Then she turned and looked down at the small dark guy. He was inert on the floor, pressed up against the wall, arms and legs tangled.
“Is he alive?” she whispered.
Reacher nodded. “Concussed, is all. I think. I hope.”
“State police is responding,” she whispered. “And I called my boss at home. Got him out of bed. He’s setting up a chambers meeting with a judge, first thing. But he says we’ll need a straightforward confession from this guy if we want to avoid a big delay.”
Reacher nodded. “We’ll get one.”
He bent down and twisted one of the small dark man’s towels tight around his neck like a noose and used it to drag him across the floor and into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later he came out again and found two state cops standing in the room. A sergeant and a trooper, both Hispanic, both composed and immaculate in their tan uniforms. He could hear their car idling outside the door. He nodded to them and walked over and picked up the driver’s clothes from the chair. Tossed them back into the bathroom.
“So?” the sergeant said.
“He’s ready to talk,” Reacher said. “He’s offering a full and voluntary confession. But he wants you to understand he was just the driver.”
“He wasn’t a shooter?”
Reacher shook his head. “But he saw everything.”
“What about the kidnap?”
“He wasn’t there. He was guarding her afterward, is all. And there’s a lot of other stuff, too, going back a number of years.”
“Situation like this, he talks, he’s going away for a long time.”
“He knows that. He accepts it. He’s happy about it. He’s looking for redemption.”
The cops just glanced at each other and went into the bathroom. Reacher heard people shuffling and moving around and handcuffs clicking.
“I have to get back,” Alice said. “I have to prepare the writ. Lot of work involved, with habeas corpus.”