Holding two wineglasses, Marcy said, "What wine goes with Chinese food?"
"Probably a muscular cabernet," Jesse said.
"Do you have any?"
"No."
"What have you got?"
"Black Label scotch, Absolut vodka, Budweiser beer."
Marcy nodded and put the wineglasses away. She put the cartons of food in a low oven and brought her drink over to the couch.
"How's it going with Jenn?" she said.
Jesse shrugged.
"That well?" Marcy said.
"She came over the other night and cooked me dinner," Jesse said.
"Good dinner?"
"Fancy," Jesse said. "She's taking cooking classes."
"Was the evening all right?"
"Sure," Jesse said.
Marcy was quiet, holding her glass in both hands, sipping.
"This works out very well for her," Marcy said finally.
"What?"
"This arrangement. She has you when she wants you. If she gets in trouble you're there. If she needs sympathy or support or understanding you're there. If she wants to see somebody else, she's free to."
"That's probably true," Jesse said.
"What do you get?" Marcy said.
Jesse went to the kitchen counter and made himself another drink. He brought it back and stood and looked out his picture window at the harbor.
"I'm in this for the long haul, Marce."
"Which means?"
"Which means, I love her, and I'll stick until she proves to me that there's no way to fix things."
"And she hasn't?"
"No."
"Does she say she loves you?"
"Yes."
"I don't want to make you mad, but have you thought she might just be manipulating you?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And she's not," Jesse said.
Marcy sipped minimally at her scotch.
"Have you seen that shrink lately?"
"Dix? I see him."
"Do you talk about this?"
"Some."
"Am I getting too nosy?" Marcy said.
"Yes."
Marcy took a big swallow of her drink.
"I heard about another murder in town," she said. "Up at the mall."
Jesse nodded.
"Any luck with it?"
Jesse shook his head.
"How about the other one, the man on the beach?"
"Nope."
"Well," Marcy said, "it's a long season."
"Yes."
They were quiet for a bit. It was full evening, and past where Jesse stood by the window, across the dark harbor, they could see the lights of Paradise Neck and Stiles Island. There was no traffic in the harbor.
"Talk to me a little about rape," Jesse said.
"Rape?"
"Yes."
"It's never really been necessary in my case."
Jesse smiled.
"Molly's working on a rape case. She says it's every woman's fear."
"Well..." Marcy paused. Her drink was empty. She held it out and Jesse went to mix her another, and made himself one too.
"I would guess that most women are not unaware of the possibility."
Jesse nodded.
"What's the worst thing about it?" Jesse said. "When you think about it."
"It's not that I wake up every day worrying about rapists."
"I know," Jesse said. "But if you think about it, what would be the worst part."
Marcy put her feet up on the couch and shifted so she could look more comfortably across the harbor. She drank some scotch, and swallowed and let her breath out audibly.
"If he's not hurting you physically," Marcy said, "I suppose it's being degraded to a thing."
"Tell me about that," Jesse said.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You're not some kind of a pervert, are you?"
"I don't think so," Jesse said. "Tell me about being a thing."
"Well, you know, it's a woman being used against her will for a purpose in which she has no part. Hell, the guy's using her to jerk off."
"Or something," Jesse said.
"Literally or figuratively," Marcy said, "you're a thing."
"It's not about you," Jesse said.
"No," Marcy said. "It is entirely about the rapist and you don't matter."
Jesse nodded slowly. He walked from the window and sat on the couch beside Marcy. They were quiet. Marcy leaned her head against Jesse's shoulder. He patted her thigh.
"This isn't just about the rape," Marcy said after a while. "Is it."
"No."
"It's also about Jenn," Marcy said.
Jesse nodded.
"Sometimes I think everything is," he said.
17
Jesse was in the parking lot of the Northeast Mall, talking to Molly on a cell phone.
"Where is she now," he said.
"Just coming out of Macy's."
"She alone?"
"Yes."
"Anyone around you recognize?"
"No. This is the time."
"Okay, pick her up and bring her."
Molly didn't actually have a hold on Candace when they came out of the vast shopping sprawl, but she walked close and a little behind, herding her with her right shoulder like a sheepdog.
"Hop in," Jesse said, when they reached him.
"What do you want?" Candace said.
"We'll talk about it when you get in," Jesse said.
Molly opened the door, Candace got in, Molly closed the door. Through the open window she looked at Jesse. He shook his head.
"Is that smart?" Molly said.
"Probably not," Jesse said. "I'll take it from here."
Molly shrugged and nodded and walked away. Jesse knew she disapproved. Sexual harassment was an easy charge to make against a male cop alone with a woman. Jesse put the car in gear.
"You want to slump down so nobody sees you," Jesse said, "I won't take it personally."
Candace sat with her back to the car window.
"What do you want?"
"To talk," Jesse said. "The elaborate stuff is to make sure no one sees you talking to me."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't care. But I was under the impression you did."
Jesse pulled out of the parking lot and went north on Route 114.
"Where are you taking me?"
"There's a Dunkin' Donuts up here," Jesse said. "We'll have a cup of coffee."
"I don't want to talk with you."
"I know," Jesse said. "But I think you have to."
They were quiet while Jesse drove through the take-out window and got two coffees and four cinnamon donuts. Jesse carefully opened the little window in the plastic top of both cups and handed one to Candace. He sat the donuts on the console between them, leaning against the shotgun that stood in its lock rack against the dashboard.
"Bo Marino," Jesse said. "Kevin Feeney, Troy Drake."
Candace's shoulders hunched, her head went down. She didn't say anything.
"We both know they raped you," Jesse said.
Candace hunched herself tighter.
"And we both know they threatened you about telling."
"How do you know that?"
"I'm the police chief," Jesse said. "I know everything."
"I don't know what you are talking about," Candace said in a small voice, her eyes riveted on her own lap.
Jesse ate half a donut and drank some coffee.
"If you let them," Jesse said, "they will make your life miserable as long as you live in this town."
Candace shook her head.
"If you tell me about it," Jesse said, "I can give you your life back."
"My mother," Candace said.
"I can help you with your mother," Jesse said.
Candace kept staring at her lap. Jesse finished his first donut and drank some more coffee. They were both silent. Candace's hunched shoulders began to shake. She made no s
ound, but Jesse knew she was crying. He put a hand on her near shoulder.
"Off the record," Jesse said. "Just between you and me. No testifying. Nobody knows you told me."
Her shoulders continued to shake.
"Let it out," Jesse said. "You're safe here. It'll never leave the car."
"Bo's the football captain," Candace said and began to cry outright.
Jesse took some Kleenex out of the glove compartment and put them on the dashboard in front of her. He patted her shoulder.
"He's so strong," she said.
Jesse stopped patting and simply rested his hand on her shoulder.
"You know behind the football field... there's this little like valley... where the railroad tracks are?... They took me there."
She was talking and crying at the same time. Her nose was running. She wiped it with a Kleenex.
"They force you?"
"They just... told me to come with them... and, you know... they are... so... so important... you know?"
Jesse nodded.
"Sure," he said. "I know."
"And... they started... they started talking... dirty and they grabbed me and took my clothes off..."
She stopped talking for a time and sobbed. Jesse waited, his hand gently on her shoulder. Finally she got enough control to talk.
"And they did it," she said.
"All three?" Jesse said softly.
"They took turns... Two holding me down, one doing it."
Jesse put his head back against the car seat and closed his eyes for a moment and took in a lot of air quietly through his nose and let it out. Candace cried, softly now, her hands folded in her lap, her head down.
"They took pictures," she said.
Jesse nodded slowly, his head still back against the car seat, his eyes still closed.
"And they'll pass the pictures around the school," Jesse said. "If you say anything."
"Yes."
"Have you seen the pictures?"
"I saw one," Candace said.
"Are they in the picture?"
"One of them."
"Which one?"
"I don't know," she said. "I couldn't stand to look."
"Do you have the picture?"
"I burned it."
"Too bad," Jesse said. "Might be evidence."
Candace shook her head.
"I didn't want anybody to see it."
"I understand," Jesse said. "They threaten you any other way?"
"They said they'd do it again. You know. If I told. And Bo said next time they'd hurt me."
"Your parents know what happened to you?" Jesse said.
"My mother knows I was raped, but not by who."
"Your father?"
"My mother says we can't tell him."
Candace wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Jesse was still for a moment, staring straight ahead through the car windshield, drumming his fingers on his thighs.
"Okay," he said after a time. "It's our secret."
She nodded. Jesse took a card out of his shirt pocket and wrote his home phone number on the back.
"You can call me anytime," Jesse said. "About anything. It'll be between you and me until you say otherwise."
She took the card.
"What are you going to do?" she said.
"I'm going to keep you out of it," Jesse said. "But I'm going to find a way, sooner or later, to bust all three of them."
"You won't tell," she said.
"No," Jesse said. "I won't."
"I'm so scared," she said.
"I know," Jesse said. "Just remember you're not alone anymore. We're in this together."
She nodded.
"Do you want me to take you home or back to the mall."
"The mall," she said. "I'm meeting my friend there at three."
Jesse finished his coffee and a second donut as he drove back to the mall. When he parked near the entrance she sat for a moment in the car.
"Do you think they'll do it again?" she said.
"I don't know. Try not to be alone with them. Call me whenever you need me."
She nodded silently.
"Thank you," she said.
Jesse smiled at her.
"You and me, babe," he said.
18
Healy came in without knocking and sat down in Jesse's office.
"You called?" he said.
Jesse nodded. "Thanks for coming by," he said.
"Not a sacrifice," Healy said. "You know I live up this way."
"We had a couple of murders," Jesse said.
"I heard," Healy said.
"Sent the slugs over to state forensics and your people tell me they came from the same guns."
"Guns?"
"Yeah. Both victims shot twice, one each from two guns."
Healy frowned. "Two shooters?" he said.
"Or one shooter who wants us to think it was two."
"Links between the victims?" Healy said.
"We can't find any," Jesse said.
"They both live here?"
"Along with twenty thousand other people."
Healy nodded slowly.
"Well, you know how to do this," Healy said. "I am not going to ask you a lot of dumb questions."
"All we got is four bullets," Jesse said. "Twenty-twos."
"That'll narrow it down for you," Healy said.
"People use a twenty-two because they don't know one gun from another and that's what they could get hold of," Jesse said.
"Or they are good at it," Healy said. "And like the twenty-two because it's not as noisy and makes less of a mess."
"And maybe because they like to show off."
"These people seem like they can shoot?"
"They put both bullets right in the same place," Jesse said. "Both victims. Either shot would have killed them."
"So we gotta look for the guns," Healy said.
"It's a start."
"How many twenty-two-caliber firearms would you guess are out there in this great land?"
"Let's assume a couple things," Jesse said. "Let's assume there's two shooters. It's more likely than one shooter, two guns."
"Yeah," Healy said.
"And let's assume that the shooters are from Paradise."
"Because both vies are from Paradise," Healy said.
"No wonder you made captain," Jesse said.
"So we get a list of everyone in Massachusetts who owns a twenty-two," Healy said.
"Or bought twenty-two ammunition."
"And we cross-reference anyone who lives in Paradise," Healy said.
"And then maybe we've got some suspects," Jesse said.
"If the shooters bought in Massachusetts," Healy said. "And if the gun store did the paperwork, and if we didn't lose it in the computer, and if they live in Paradise."
"Hell, we've got them cornered," Jesse said. "Can your people do the clerical work?"
"Am I the homicide commander?" Healy said.
"Can they do it fast?"
"I am the homicide commander. I am not God."
"I thought they were the same thing," Jesse said.
"Think how disappointed I am," Healy said. "It'll be a long process."
"How long?"
"Long," Healy said.
They were silent for a moment.
Robert B Parker - Stone 4 - Stone Cold Page 5
