"Buy 10, sell 9." If that line doesn’t make your stomach turn, congratulations. You’re probably a Duncan.
After a streak of books that didn’t quite hit the mark, I turned to my favorite author, Lee Child. I needed a solid five-star read, and Worth Dying For was worth the wait. Child is a master at grabbing attention right from the first paragraph. This one opens with a sniper waiting for Reacher...just in case. Hooked Immediately.
As always, trouble finds Reacher. It starts with a bloody nose, a drunk doctor, and a stubborn patient Reacher refuses to let slip through the cracks. From there, things escalate fast.
Enter the Duncan clan: Human traffickers who’ve been terrorizing a Nebraska farming community for 25 years. They’re bullies, parasites, and absolute wastes of oxygen. Their business motto, “Buy 10, sell 9”, disgusted me to my core. And you better believe Reacher dishes out the only kind of justice worth having in this situation. His own.
The town had stayed silent under the Duncans’ thumb because of raw, paralyzing fear: Fear for their families, their lives, and the belief that keeping their heads down was the only way to survive. But every tyranny has its breaking point, and here it came with the discovery of a missing child’s body. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
The Nebraska setting made the story. With no hospital or police for miles, the town was isolated and vulnerable, the perfect breeding ground for corruption. In a city, this story would have unfolded differently. Help would be seconds away, people would ask pointed questions, and the Duncans would probably not have had 25 years of unchecked power.
What I admire most is Reacher’s code. He’s relentless about protecting the innocent and punishing evil, saving fictional taxpayers millions in court costs and prison fees along the way. In a place where corruption runs deep, even within law enforcement, his brand of justice is exactly what’s needed.
As for me, I’d love to say I’d have stood up to the Duncans early on. But let’s be honest. I’d probably have just moved away. Easier than getting my butt handed to me for doing the right thing.
