Worth Dying For by Lee Child Page A

upper arm with one hand and used the other to take a pistol out from under his coat. A shoulder holster. The gun was some kind of a nickel-plated semi-automatic. Or stainless steel. Reacher was too far away to make out the brand. Maybe a Colt. Or maybe a copy. The guy raised it across his body and laid its muzzle against Dorothy’s temple. He held the gun flat, like a punk in a movie. His thumb and three fingers were wrapped tight around the grip. The fourth finger was on the trigger. Dorothy flinched away. The guy hauled on her arm and pulled her back.
    He called out, ‘Reacher? Is that your name? You there? You hiding somewhere? You listening to me? I’m going to count to three. Then you come on out. If you don’t, I’m going to shoot the old cow. I’ve got a gun to her head. Tell him, grandma.’
    Dorothy said, ‘There’s no one here.’
    The yard went quiet. Three people, all alone in a thousand acres.
    Reacher stood still, right where he was, on his own in the dark.
    He saw Dorothy close her eyes.
    The guy with the gun said, ‘One.’
    Reacher stood still.
    The guy said, ‘Two.’
    Reacher stood still.
    The guy said, ‘Three.’

EIGHTEEN
    R EACHER STOOD STILL AND WATCHED THROUGH THE CRACK. There was a long second’s pause. Then the guy who had been counting dropped his hand and stuffed the gun back under his coat. He let go of the woman’s arm. She staggered away a step. The two guys looked left, looked right, looked at each other. They shrugged. A test, passed. A precaution, properly explored. They turned and headed away around the side of the house and disappeared from sight. A minute later Reacher heard doors slam and an engine start and the crunch and whine of a car backing down the track. He heard it make the blacktop, he heard it change gear, he heard it drive away.
    The world went quiet again.
    Reacher stayed right where he was, on his own in the dark. He wasn’t dumb. Easiest thing in the world for one of the guys to be hiding behind the corner of the house, while his buddy drove away like a big loud decoy. Reacher knew all the tricks. He had used most of them. He had invented some of them himself.
    Dorothy stood in the yard with one hand on the side of her truck, steadying herself. Reacher watched her. He guessed she was about thirty seconds away from gathering her wits and taking a breath and shouting that the guys were gone and he could come out now. Then he saw twenty-five years of habitual caution get the better of her. She pushed off the truck and walked the same path the two guys had taken. She was gone a whole minute. Then she came back, around the other side of the house. A full circle. Flat land all around. Wintertime. No place to hide.
    She called, ‘They’re gone.’
    He picked up the stack of plates and shouldered his way out between the barn’s warped doors. He blinked in the light and shivered in the cold. He walked on and met her near the pick-up truck. She took the plates from him. He said, ‘You OK?’
    She said, ‘I was a little worried there for a minute.’
    ‘The safety catch was on. The guy never moved his thumb. I was watching. It was a bluff.’
    ‘Suppose it hadn’t been a bluff? Would you have come out?’
    ‘Probably,’ Reacher said.
    ‘You did good with these plates. I suddenly remembered them, and thought I was a goner for sure. Those guys looked like they wouldn’t miss much.’
    ‘What else did they look like?’
    ‘Rough,’ she said. ‘Menacing. They said they were here representing the Duncans. Representing them, not working for them. That’s something new. The Duncans never used outsiders before.’
    ‘Where will they go next?’
    ‘I don’t know. I don’t think they know, either. Nowhere to hide is pretty much the same as nowhere to look, isn’t it?’
    ‘The doctor’s, maybe?’
    ‘They might. The Duncans know you had contact.’
    ‘Maybe I should head over there.’
    ‘And maybe I should get back to the motel. I think they hurt Mr