Tripwire: A Jack Reacher Novel
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Jack Reacher hunts the hunter in the third novel in Lee Child’s New York Times bestselling series.
Reacher's anonymity in Florida is shattered by an investigator who's come looking for him. But hours after his arrival, the stranger is murdered. Retracing the PI's trail back to New York, Reacher's compelled to find out who was looking for him and why. He never expected the reasons to be so personal—and twisted.
it in silence. Then the coffee came, and the check in a padded leather folder bearing the restaurant logo printed in gold. Jodie laid her credit card on it without looking at the total. Then she smiled. 'Great dinner,' she said. He smiled back. 'Great company.' 'Let's forget all about Victor Hobie for a while,' she said. 'Who?' he asked, and she laughed. 'So what shall we think about instead?' she said. He smiled. 'I was thinking about your dress.' 'You like it?' 'I think it's great,' he
Clearly taken from inside a car stopped at the end of his driveway. The second was of his wife. Marilyn. Shot with a long lens as she walked in the flower garden. The third was of Marilyn coming out of her beauty parlour in town. A grainy, long-lens image. Covert, like a surveillance photograph. The fourth picture was a close-up of the licence plate of her BMW. The fifth photograph was also of Marilyn. Taken at night through their bedroom window. She was dressed in a bathrobe. Her hair was down,
one as the weight of the gun overwhelmed the control in his shoulder. He coughed and pushed blood out of his mouth with his tongue. The Steyr was coming down. He watched the front sight dropping like a strong man was pulling on it. He tried to bring it up, but it wouldn't come. He forced his hand upward, but it just moved sideways like an invisible force was deflecting it. His knees went again and he jerked back upright like a spasm. The Steyr was miles away. It was hanging down to the right. It
government people I met were a lot more efficient than that. I was a government person, in a manner of speaking. You think I'd miss two days in a row?' She slewed the car right and jammed to a stop on the shoulder. Turned in her seat to face him, blue eyes wide. 'So it must be Rutter,' she said. 'Who else can it be? He's running a lucrative scam, right? And he's prepared to protect it. He thinks we're going to expose it. So he's been looking for us. And now we're planning to walk right into his
was almost reasonable. 'Let me see it,' he said. Rutter wiped the tube on his pants. Handed it over. Reacher came out with the gun and clicked the tube in place. Not like in the movies. You don't hold it up to your eyes and screw it on, slowly and thoughtfully and lovingly. You use light fast pressure and a half-turn and it clicks on like a lens fits a camera. It improved the weapon. Improved its balance. Ninety-nine times in a hundred, a handgun gets fired high because the recoil flips the