Make Me by Lee Child Page B

she?”
    “She looked like she was headed to City Hall for her fifth wedding.”
    The waitress came by, and Chang asked her, “Do you know a guy in town named Maloney?”

    “No,” she said. “But I know two guys named Moynahan.”
    And then she winked and walked away.
    Chang said, “Now she’s really your best friend forever. I don’t think she likes the Moynahans.”
    Reacher said, “I don’t see why anyone would.”
    “Someone must. We should assume they have their own best friends forever. We should expect a reaction.”
    “But not yet. They both took a hit. It’s going to be like having the flu for a couple of days. Not like on a television show, where they get over it during the commercial messages.”
    “But they’ll get over it eventually. Could be a mob scene, between their friends and their co-conspirators.”
    “You were a cop. I’m sure you shot people before.”
    “I never even drew my weapon. It was Connecticut. A small town.”
    “What about in the FBI?”
    “I was a financial analyst. White collar.”
    “But you qualified, right? At the range?”
    “We had to.”
    “Were you any good?”
    “I won’t shoot unless they fire first.”
    “I can live with that.”
    “This is crazy talk. This is a railroad stop. This is not the OK Corral.”
    “All those places had the railroad. That was the point. The bad guy would get off the train. Or the new sheriff.”
    “How serious do you think this is?”
    “It’s on a scale, like anything else. At one end Keever’s in Vegas with a nineteen-year-old. At the other end he’s dead. I’m shading toward the dead end of the middle. Or maybe a little beyond. I’m sorry. It was probably an accident. Or a semi-accident. Or panic. So now they don’t know what to do.”
    “Do we?”
    “Right now we have a simple three-part agenda. Eat breakfast, drink coffee, and find Maloney.”

    “Might not be easy.”
    “Which part?”
    “Maloney.”
    “We should start at the receiving office. Over by the elevators. I bet they know every name for two hundred miles. And it might be two birds with one stone. If there’s something hinky about the wheat, we might pick up a vibe.”
    Chang nodded and said, “How did you sleep?”
    “It was weird at first, with Keever’s things in the room. His suitcase by the wall. I felt like someone else. I felt like a normal person. But I got over it.”
    —
    The receiving office was a plain wooden structure next in line after the weighbridge. It was purely utilitarian. It was what it was. It made no concession to style or appeal. It didn’t need to. It was the only game in town, and farmers either used it or starved.
    Inside, it had counters for form-filling, and a worn floor where drivers waited in line, and a stand-up desk where deliveries were recorded. Behind the desk was a white-haired guy in bib overalls, with a blunt pencil behind his ear. He was fussing around with stacks of paper. He was gearing up ahead of the harvest, presumably. He had the look of a guy entirely happy in his little fiefdom.
    He said, “Help you?”
    Reacher said, “We’re looking for a guy named Maloney.”
    “Not me.”
    “You know a Maloney around here?”
    “Who’s asking?”
    “We’re private detectives from New York City. A guy died and left all his money to another guy. But it turns out the other guy already died too, so now the money is back in the pot for all the relatives we can find. One of them claims he has a cousin in this county named Maloney. That’s all we know.”
    “Not me,” the guy said again. “How much money?”

    “We’re not allowed to say.”
    “A lot?”
    “Better than a poke in the eye.”
    “So how can I help you?”
    “We figured you might know a bunch of names around here. I imagine most folks must come through this office at one time or another.”
    The guy nodded, like a vital and unanticipated connection had been made. He hit the space bar on a keyboard and a screen lit up. He maneuvered a