“They checked out early this morning.”
“They didn’t come back again?”
“They’re gone, mister.”
Reacher nodded, and headed for his hut, where he spent the next four hours on the back deck, sitting in one lawn chair, his feet up on the other, watching the sky. It was another beautiful day, and he saw nothing except bright blue emptiness, and wispy contrails arching way overhead, eight miles up.
In the early afternoon he headed to the diner for a late lunch. He was the only customer. The town felt deserted. No trail, no business. The waitress didn’t look happy. Not just about the lack of revenue. She was on the wall phone, listening to someone, concern on her face. A tale of woe, clearly. She hung up after a long minute and walked over to Reacher’s table.
She said, “They’re sending search parties south from Cripps. For the walkers. They’re grabbing them and hustling them out. Real fast.”
Reacher said, “Soldiers?”
She nodded. “Lots of them.”
“Weird.”
“That’s not the worst of it. They’re holding them for questioning afterward. They want to know if they saw anything.”
“Soldiers are doing that, too?”
“Men in suits. My friend thinks they’re the FBI.”
“Who’s your friend?”
“She works at the motel in Cripps.”
“What are people supposed to have seen?”
“All we have is rumors. A bear gone rogue, maybe. A man-eater. Packs of wild coyotes, mountain lions, bigfoot monsters. Or some vicious murderer escaped from the penitentiary. Or wolves. Or vampires.”
“You believe in vampires?”
“I watch the television, same as anyone else.”
“It’s not vampires,” Reacher said.
“There’s something in those woods, mister.”
Reacher ate a tuna melt and drank coffee and water, and then he headed back to the arch for a second look. The sawhorses were in place, ten yards upstream of the parked Humvees. Four grunts were standing easy, weapons shouldered. A show of force. No entry. Not a drill. Pleasant duty, overall, given the season. Winter would have been much worse.
Reacher walked back to town. Just as he hit Main Street the colorless minivan came around the corner. Helen was at the wheel. She pulled over next to him and buzzed her window down.
She said, “Have you seen Henry and Suzanne?”
He said, “Not since breakfast time.”
“People say the trail is closed.”
“It is.”
“So I came to pick them up.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Where are they?”
“I think Henry is a hard man to dissuade.”
“They went anyway?”
“That’s my guess.”
“After it was closed?”
“There was a brief window of opportunity. After the tape went up, before the soldiers arrived.”
“I heard about the soldiers.”
“What else have you heard?”
“There’s something bad in the woods.”
“Vampires, maybe,” Reacher said.
“This isn’t funny. I heard it might be escaped prisoners or rogue military units. Something very dangerous. Everyone is talking. It’s on the local AM station. There are anchors in Cripps already.”
“You want a cup of coffee?”
Helen parked in front of the diner, and they went in together, to the same table Reacher had used before. The waitress brought coffee, and then hustled away and got on the wall phone again. To her friend in Cripps, presumably. For updates, and gossip, and rumor.
Helen said, “Henry is an idiot.”
“He likes the woods,” Reacher said. “Can’t blame him for that.”
“But there’s something in there now, obviously.”
“I guess there is.”
“Which he must have known. It’s not brain surgery. He’s an idiot, but he’s not an idiot. But he went in anyway. And dragged Suzanne in with him. He is an idiot. Both sorts.”
“Suzanne could have said no.”
“Actually, she’s just as bad. No impulse control. I heard they have search parties moving south from Cripps.”
Reacher nodded. “I heard that, too. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Or slightly secondhand, I suppose. Our waitress has a friend up there.”
“What are they searching for?”
“People like Henry and Suzanne. They’re getting them out and asking questions about what they saw.”
“But they’ll miss Henry and Suzanne. Won’t they? It’s inevitable. They’re expecting a three-day pipeline. They’ll stop when they get all the people who started out yesterday morning. Henry and Suzanne will be twenty-four hours behind them. They’ll leave them in there. With whatever else is in there. This is not good.”
“It’s a big woods.”
“The thing could be roaming and hunting. Or if it’s escaped prisoners they’ll stick close to the trail anyway. They would have to. Henry and Suzanne will be in there alone with them.”
Reacher said, “It’s not escaped prisoners.”
“How do you know?”
“I went to see the soldiers at the arch. They’re military police, like I was. But technically what they’re doing isn’t entirely kosher. The military can’t perform civilian law enforcement duties. There are all kinds of rules about that. But their sergeant told me his unit number with no hesitation at all. And then he told me his name, just as fast. He even spelled it out for me. Cain, with no e.”
“What does all that mean?”
“It means he’s not afraid of anything. So he can get right in my face. Which means he has a solid gold get-out-of-jail-free card. Which must be urgent orders from somewhere very high up. From an unimpeachable source. As in, if some citizen like me makes a fuss, I’m going to get crushed by the machine. He’s going to get a medal. Which makes this a national security issue. It’s showing all the signs. And people escaped from the penitentiary isn’t national security. That’s a state affair.”
Helen was quiet for a second.
Then she said, “A national security issue could be a rogue military unit. Or a band of terrorists. Or escaped prisoners from Homeland Security. Or some kind of mutant has gotten free. Like a genetic experiment. Or someone else’s genetic experiment, set free. On purpose. Maybe this is an attack. And they’re right there in it.”
“It’s none of the above,” Reacher said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I sat in a chair all morning and watched the sky.”
“Which told you what?”
“No circling spotter planes, no drones, no helicopters. If they were hunting a warm-blooded creature or creatures, they’d have been up there all day with heat-seeking cameras. And air-to-ground radar, and whatever other fancy things they have now.”
“So what do you think they’re looking for?”
“They aren’t looking. I told you that. No aerial surveillance.”
“Then what aren’t they looking for?”
“Something with no heat signature, and too small to show up on radar.”
“Which would be what?”
“I have no idea.”
“But something they don’t want us to see, obviously. Something we can’t know about.”