CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Friday, January 14
5:32 p.m.
Palm Beach, Florida
Pauling guessed the time and then looked at her watch. She’d missed again. But only by four minutes. She was getting better, but she’d been practicing the trick for months. and she only nailed the time about once in ten tries. Reacher was some kind of savant or something.
Otto and Gaspar were on the way. She’d confirmed their flight, and it had landed an hour ago. It was a short drive, and the President wasn’t due back until tomorrow morning, so traffic was light. She expected them to pull up out front shortly.
She was ready.
She opened a bottle of crisp Chardonnay, poured a glass, and wandered out to the pool to wait.
Not ten minutes later, the front buzzer sounded. She set the wine glass on a table and went to answer the call. The buzzer sounded again just as she reached the intercom.
She tried not to smile. “Yes?”
“Lauren Pauling?” A female voice.
“That’s right.” She looked at the video screen. A man and a woman stood within range of the camera. She was attractive, Asian, tiny. He was older. Taller. Latin looking.
“FBI Special Agents Kim Otto and Carlos Gaspar. We’d like a few minutes of your time.”
“Yes, Greg Brewer told me to expect you. Please come up.” She pressed the lock release for the front entrance and watched the video until they stepped inside.
She waited for the knock and opened the door.
“I’m Lauren Pauling,” she extended her hand. Both had solid handshakes, she noticed. “Please come in. We’ll sit outside. Walk straight through to the pool. I’ve opened a bottle of wine. Can I get you something?”
“Sparkling water?” Otto asked.
Pauling smiled. “Of course. Just grab a bottle there in the fridge and a glass from the cabinet next to it.”
“Do you have any coffee?” Gaspar asked.
“I have an espresso machine. You’re welcome to make your own.” She waved him to the open kitchen and left him to fend for himself.
She joined Otto on the patio. She retrieved her wine glass and settled into a gliding chair near the table. “I know you’ve been sitting for hours, so feel free to stand if you’d like.”
Otto looked beyond Ocean Boulevard to the shoreline and the vast Atlantic on the other side. Stars sparkled in the dark sky past civilization’s light pollution.
One of Pauling’s favorite party yachts was out there, moving slowly across the near horizon. Windows alight and three hundred-plus passengers enjoying the mild January weather. The Beachy Babe featured three decks for dining, dancing, and lounging during night cruises. Day cruises also included water toys like jet skis and scuba gear.
“It’s magical, isn’t it?” Pauling said. “Only a few hours from here by plane, right now, one can literally freeze to death. Seems impossible to me most days.”
“I can see why,” Otto replied. “Have you lived here long?”
“My husband bought the place for a song from a client. Poor guy was in a dire financial bind. That was long before we married.” She paused. “After Hugh died, I didn’t come here much for a while. Too many memories, you know?”
Gaspar joined them, his steaming espresso in hand.
Pauling raised her glass. “Death to our enemies.”
Gaspar grinned. “I’ll drink to that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t come here to look at the stars and drink coffee,” she said, clearing her mind of sentiment. “So tell me how I can help you.”
“We’re looking for information on Jack Reacher from people who know him. Brewer probably told you that he’s being considered for a classified project. We’re tasked with completing his background check.” Otto recited the facts, but she didn’t seem to have her heart in it.
“Brewer mentioned all that to me, yes. But it seems like something more is going on here,” Pauling replied easily. She slipped into the familiar techniques for handling witnesses that she’d honed to an art form during her years at the FBI.
Gaspar said, “Let’s start there. You know Reacher. How did you meet him?”
“Not very complicated. Brewer hooked us up.” Pauling sipped her wine as if she was discussing a social occasion. “Reacher was interested in an old homicide. The case was one I’d worked at the FBI. Reacher asked Brewer because he thought the case was NYPD. But it was an FBI matter, so Brewer sent him to me.”
Otto nodded. “And the old case had something to do with Colonel Edward Lane.”
Pauling lowered her gaze briefly. “That’s right. His wife was kidnapped and murdered. The case was never solved.”
“Why was Reacher interested?” Gaspar asked.
These two were asking all the right questions. But she’d decided earlier what she’d leave in and what she’d leave out. “Because the second Mrs. Lane had gone missing. He thought the two cases might be related.”
“Were they?” Otto asked. “The cases, I mean. I assume the two Mrs. Lanes were not related, right?”
“Correct on both counts.” Pauling shook her head. “Except for the fact that the women were Edward Lane’s first and second wives, the cases were not related at all.”
“When was the last time you saw Reacher?” Gaspar asked.
“It’s been a while.” Pauling shrugged. “Much longer than I’d like, frankly.”
Gaspar flashed a meaningful glance at Otto, and she frowned.
Pauling wondered what that was about. “Have either of you met Reacher?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure,” Gaspar said.
Otto changed the subject. “When’s the last time you talked to Brewer?”
Pauling frowned. “Yesterday afternoon. Why?”
“Brewer might have mentioned some bad news if you’d spoken to him today.” Otto cleared her throat. “Simon Peck was murdered sometime yesterday.”
Pauling gasped. Her right hand flew to her mouth. “Why would anyone kill Simon?”
“Brewer caught the case. He called us over to Lane’s apartment at the Dakota.” Otto paused and glanced down for a moment. “The man who killed him used a knife first.”
Pauling widened her eyes, and her nostrils flared. “Knife murders are crimes of passion, usually. Up close and personal. Was Simon killed by a lover?”
Gaspar shrugged. “We don’t know. NYPD is handling the case. We haven’t heard anything more from Brewer.”
Pauling understood what they needed to know. She shook her head. “It wasn’t me. I’ve been right here.”
“We didn’t think you killed Simon Peck, Lauren,” Otto said quietly. “But you might be the reason he was killed.”
“How could that be true?” Pauling gasped again. “I haven’t seen Simon in weeks.”
“Brewer’s theory is that the killer came to steal the Colonel’s money. When he found the money missing, he killed Simon.” Gaspar cocked his head. “Brewer says you know where the money is.”
“You know how this goes, Lauren. The killer used his knife to get information from Peck.” Otto looked around the patio and the open pool deck. “I assume you’re armed. How secure are you here?”
Pauling sat her wine glass down hard and clasped her hands. “You think this maniac is on his way here?”
“We’re fairly certain of it,” Gaspar said.
“Why?”
“I can think of about nine million reasons,” Otto said.
Gaspar drained his espresso. “Now would be a good time to call Reacher.”
Pauling was thinking the very same thing.