One Shot (Jack Reacher)
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Now a major motion picture
“Electrifying . . . This series [is] utterly addictive.”—Janet Maslin, The New York Times
Six shots. Five dead. One heartland city thrown into a state of terror. But within hours the cops have it solved: a slam-dunk case. Except for one thing. The accused man says: You got the wrong guy. Then he says: Get Reacher for me.
And sure enough, ex–military investigator Jack Reacher is coming. He knows this shooter—a trained military sniper who never should have missed a shot. Reacher is certain something is not right—and soon the slam-dunk case explodes.
Now Reacher is teamed with a beautiful young defense lawyer, moving closer to the unseen enemy who is pulling the strings. Reacher knows that no two opponents are created equal. This one has come to the heartland from his own kind of hell. And Reacher knows that the only way to take him down is to match his ruthlessness and cunning—and then beat him shot for shot.
“Pulse-pounding action.”—Chicago Sun-Times
“Compelling, furiously paced.”—Los Angeles Times
“Crackles with excitement.”—St. Petersburg Times
“Pure adrenaline, from its well-constructed setup to its explosive, unforgettable finale.”—The Miami Herald
down, and got busy. She worked as a secretary in an eight-man law firm. Like most firms in small heartland cities, hers did a little bit of everything. And it treated its employees fairly well. The salary wasn't spectacular, but there were intangibles to compensate. One was a full package of benefits. Another was being called a paralegal instead of a secretary. Another was a promise that the firm would handle legal matters for its employees and their families free, gratis, and for nothing.
suburbs were bedroom communities for people who worked in the city, so the traffic stayed bad all the way out. The houses were much grander than in the east. They were all two-storey, all varied, all well maintained. They all had big lots and pools and ambitious evergreen landscaping. With the last of the sunset behind them they looked like pictures in a brochure. 'Tight-ass middle class,' Reacher said. 'What we all aspire to,' Yanni said. 'They won't want to talk,' Reacher said. 'Not their
probably a golf club member, maybe an Elk, maybe a Rotarian. He was wearing corduroy pants and a patterned sweater. He was the kind of guy who gets home and immediately changes clothes as a matter of routine. 'Is your wife at home?' Helen asked. "We'd like to speak with her about Oline Archer.' 'About Oline?' the guy said. He was looking at Ann Yanni. 'I'm a lawyer,' Helen said. 'What is there to be said about Oline?' 'Maybe more than you think,' Yanni said. 'You're not a lawyer.' 'I'm here
called. 'Print all the quarters.' 'Why?' the tech called back. 'You think the guy paid?' 'I want to cover all the bases.' 'You'd have to be crazy to pay for parking just before you blow five people away.' 'You don't blow five people away unless you're crazy.' The tech shrugged. Empty the meter? But he guessed it was the kind of insight detectives were paid for, so he just dialled his cell phone and asked the city liaison guy to come on back again. Someone from the District Attorney's
cop car swept past on his right. Reacher watched it jam up again ahead. He didn't want to go through the side-by-side thing again so he stuck with the left turn. Found himself back in the street with Martha's grocery on it. It was clogged with slow traffic. He shifted on the seat and checked his pants pocket. Sifted through the coins by feel. Found a quarter. Debated with himself, twenty yards, thirty, forty. Yes. He pulled into Martha's tiny lot. Left the engine running and slid out of the