Better off Dead (Jack Reacher #26)(9)

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—

I stood my ground and counted to three in my head. Slowly. The woman didn’t pull the trigger. I didn’t get covered in her blood and brains. I took that as a good sign.

    “I heard what that was guy was saying.” I waited a couple more seconds. My eyes didn’t leave her trigger finger. “Michael’s your brother?”

“Was my brother.” The gun was still pressed to her head.

“You were looking for him?”

“That’s what got him killed.”

“You were looking for him on your own, is what I mean. You hadn’t gone to the police.”

“Was he on the wrong side of the law? Was he a criminal? That’s what you mean. And the answer’s yes. He was.” She lowered the gun. “Gold star to you for figuring that out.”

“And you?”

“No. Well, yes. Technically. By association. But only because I infiltrated Michael’s group. I was trying to get him out of there. He wanted to leave. Straighten himself out. He got a message to me. You didn’t know him. He was a good man. In his heart. That last tour changed him. What the army did was wrong. It derailed him. Left him vulnerable. Some other guys got their hooks in him. Took advantage. He made some bad choices. Clearly. Which is on him. I’m not making excuses. But it was a temporary thing. A blip. The real Michael was still in there somewhere. I know it. If I could have just gotten to him in time…”

“I’m not judging. I understand why you didn’t go to the police before. But things have changed.”

The woman didn’t reply.

I said, “The guy who killed Michael? Get him arrested. Go to his trial. Give evidence. Put him away for the rest of his life.”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t work. The guy who killed Michael is too careful. He won’t have left any proof. Even if they believe me the police could look for months and not find anything.”

    “Maybe the police don’t need to find anything. We could go visit the guy. I heard a name. Dendoncker?”

“That’s the asshole.”

“We could chat. I’m sure he would soon feel the urge to confess. With the correct kind of encouragement.”

A small, sad smile spread across the woman’s face. “I would love to go visit Dendoncker. Believe me. I’d be there in a heartbeat. But we can’t. It’s impossible.”

“No such thing as impossible. Just inadequate preparation.”

“Not in this case. Getting your hands on Dendoncker cannot be done.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve tried.”

“What stopped you?”

“For a start, no one ever knows where he is.”

“So make him come to you.”

“Not possible. He only shows his face in one particular circumstance.”

“Then create that circumstance.”

“I’m about to. But it won’t help.”

“I don’t follow.”

“He only breaks cover when someone who was a threat to him is dead. Even if he only thought they were a threat. Even if he only imagined it or dreamed it. He has them killed. Then he has to see the body for himself. It’s like a paranoid compulsion he has. He won’t take anyone’s word. He won’t trust a photograph or a video or a death certificate or a coroner’s report. He only believes his own eyes.”

    I took a moment to think. Then I said, “So, two people.”

“What?”

“If that’s his M.O. it’ll take two people to capture him. You and I could do it. If we worked together.”

“Bullshit. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Actually, I do. I spent thirteen years catching people who didn’t want to get caught. And I was good at it.”

“You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“You were a bounty hunter?”

“Guess again.”

“Not a cop?”

“A military cop.”

“Really? You don’t look like one. What happened to you?”

I didn’t respond to that.

The woman was silent for a moment, too. Then she said, “What difference does a second person make? I don’t see it.”

“All in good time. The question right now is: Capturing Dendoncker—is that worth living for?”

The woman blinked a couple of times then looked away toward the horizon. She gazed in silence for a whole minute. Then she looked me in the eye. “Stopping…Capturing Dendoncker. That would be a start, I guess. But two people. Working together. You and me. Why would you do that?”

“Michael was a veteran. You’re one, too. I can see it in you. Too many of us have been lost already. I’m not going to stand by and watch another life get wasted.”

“I can’t ask you to help.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“It would be dangerous.”

    “Crossing the street can be dangerous.”

She paused for a moment. “OK. But can we actually do it?”

“Sure.”