Page 47 of Cold Target

Both of them stopped and looked at the man behind the desk.

He hadn't moved. Hadn't raised his voice. He just sat there, hands still folded, eyes moving from Winthrow to Marks and back again.

The silence stretched out. Five seconds. Ten. The clock ticked. Outside, a car passed on the street below, its headlights briefly illuminating the window.

Then the man spoke. "Where exactly was Simmons found?"

Winthrow answered immediately. "Outside a hotel in Cadillac, Michigan. He was in the parking lot. One shot to his heart, the other to his head. He died instantly."

"Time of death?"

"Medical examiner estimates between 8 and 10 PM. They're still processing the scene."

The man's eyes shifted to Marks. "How was he killed? What kind of weapon?"

".300 Winchester Mag. Classic round used by snipers.”

"Signs of struggle?"

"Simmons's weapon was still holstered. He either knew his attacker or never saw it coming."

The man nodded slowly. Turned back to Winthrow. "What was the last known contact with Reacher?"

"Yesterday.”

"What did the local police report say? Exactly."

Winthrow pulled a folded paper from her jacket pocket, unfolded it, read. "Officers responded to a shots-fired call. Found the victim in the parking lot, deceased. No witnesses.Hotel manager said he heard the shots but didn't see anything. Victim's wallet and credentials were still on his person. No robbery. The officers ran his ID, found he was federal, and immediately secured the scene and notified the FBI field office in Detroit."

The man was quiet again. His eyes had gone distant.

Marks broke the silence, his voice more controlled now but still hard. "Sir, with respect, we need to make a decision. If Reacher's been compromised?—"

The man held up one hand. Just slightly. Just enough.

Marks stopped talking.

Another ten seconds of silence. The clock ticked. Winthrow stood very still.

Then the man leaned forward slightly. Unfolded his hands. Placed them flat on the desk.

"We're not shutting down the operation."

Marks started to speak. The man's eyes shifted to him, and Marks closed his mouth.

"We're finding Reacher." The man's voice was still quiet, still calm, but there was certainty. "Agent Winthrow, I want youto quietly supply Reacher's photo and description to anyone in the area we can trust. Discreetly. No alerts, no broadcasts. Just eyes."

"Yes, sir."

"Pull traffic camera footage from anywhere Reacher might have gone. If any exists. Check gas stations, convenience stores, anything with security cameras. I want to know everywhere Reacher and Simmons went yesterday."

"Understood."

"Run Reacher's credit cards. All of them. Personal and the operational cards we issued. If he's used any of them in the last twelve hours, I want to know where and when."

"Already in progress," Winthrow said. "Nothing so far."

"Check hospitals too. If he's injured, he might have sought medical attention."