Page 98 of Chain Reaction

Reacher said, “Julia Bisley?”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Jack Reacher. I’m working with G-99 Section. With General Susan Turner, who was your husband’s boss. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

The woman nodded, cautiously.

“What do you want?” she said.

“Just to talk for a moment. But I can see this is not a good time. Maybe we could arrange something for the morning.”

She came closer. Maybe halved the distance. She was medium height, sleek like a runner, dark hair, dark eyes. A good looking woman. But exhausted and tense.

She said, “Talk about what?”

The baby fussed and squalled.

“It can wait,” Reacher said. “This must be Amanda. How’s she doing?”

“She’s been better.”

“May I say hello to her?”

“If you want.”

Reacher squatted down, face to face with the baby. It was a red face, clenched and miserable. The tiny hands were waving wildly around. Tiny pink fingers, chubby wrists. Then suddenly she noticed the giant face right in front of her. She went still. She went quiet.

“Hey kid,” Reacher said.

She stared at him. Wide eyes. He stared back. He smiled. She smiled. A small, tentative grin. Then the whole nine yards, all wet and ecstatic and gummy. He held out his forefinger. It was bigger than her forearm. She swiped at it and clamped her hand on it. Her grip was pretty strong. She stared. He stared. On and on. Then she sighed a long exhausted sigh and her eyelids started to droop. She fought hard against it, but she lost. Her eyes stayed shut and her head lolled back and her tiny body sagged in the chair. Her grip relaxed and Reacher shook his finger free. He stood up.

“Oh my God,” the woman said. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I’m very boring,” he said. “Everyone falls asleep. You’ll be next. You should get home quick.”

“No, tell me.”

“You don’t want to know,” he said.

“I really do, believe me.”

“My dad was a Marine. I was raised on foreign bases. There was a mad dog outside one of them. I was nine. I came face to face with it. It looked really vicious. I didn’t want to hurt it, so I thought, hey, you’re just a mammal and I’m just a mammal, so maybe we can communicate. I stared into its eyes, trying to send it secret messages, calm, calm, relax, go to sleep. It worked. It always works with dogs. But I never tried it with a baby before.”

“How long did the dog sleep?”

“About an hour. Then it ran off and bit some other kid.”

“I hope that doesn’t happen here.”

“She has very small teeth,” Reacher said. “And not very many yet.”

The woman bent down and checked in the stroller again. The kid was deeply asleep. Spark out. Dead to the world.

“Thank you,” she said. “I really mean it. This is great. She’ll sleep all night now. I can tell.”

Behind her he saw a black town car hiss through the intersection. A well used vehicle, sagging and bouncing, dull paint not sparkling in the crystal light.

“Happy to help,” he said.