He reached around Mildred and poured himself another scotch. But he stopped himself from drinking it. He realized he was on the brink. He put the glass down.
He couldn’t bring himself to dislodge the sleeping cat from his lap, so he leaned back in his chair and struggled to make himself more comfortable.
Then he was asleep.
—
Ryan Rooney couldn’t sleep.
Finally he got out of bed and went to the darkened living room. He replayed the shootings over and over in his mind. He was happy to have administered a proper fate to Marisol. He cherished the look in her eye when she realized that it was him. She got what she deserved.
As for Frankie Greenberg, he was both astonished that he had shot her and remorseful for the deed.
It was a knee-jerk reaction, he kept telling himself. He hadn’t intended to do it. When she started toward him, he shot her in self-defense.
Maybe it was the crystal meth. Perhaps his judgment had been impaired.
To his great surprise, he was consumed by guilt. He couldn’t get it out of his mind.
He would now be forced to change his plans. He had rented the cabin for a month. He would stay there and wait it out. He would make his move when more time had elapsed and surveillance became lax.
He would stay off the highways. He would take the back roads. He would head north to Maine, where he could illegally cross the border into Quebec and disappear into the Canadian wilderness.
He reached for his paraphernalia and his Shabu rock.
He breathed the air of invincibility.
I’ll get through this, he thought.
49
Molly arrived at the station to find Courtney waiting outside.
The two women didn’t speak. They eyed each other warily as Molly unlocked the door and they went inside.
“Would ‘Good morning’ be too much for you,” Molly said.
“Being here wasn’t my idea.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“You could’ve just as easily said it yourself.”
“It’s generally good manners for younger people to offer greetings to their elders.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Courtney said.
“Charming,” Molly said.
Molly showed her the supply closet. The cleaning equipment was inside. She picked up a mop and showed it to Courtney.
“This is a mop,” she said.
Courtney didn’t say anything.
“You ever see one before?”
Courtney snorted.
“I’ll bet you never handled one before,” Molly said.
“Is this what it’s gonna be like being here?”
“Get used to it.”
Molly withdrew a handful of ancient rags and a can of Endust.
“You know how to use this stuff?”
“No. Show me.”
“Figure it out for yourself. Go dust the bookcases and the desktops, and everything else that looks like it might have dust on it. When you’re finished with that, go downstairs and mop the floors. And when that’s done, clean the toilets.”
“The toilets?”
“That’s right.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Then you’ll find yourself standing in front of Judge Weissberg again with the female house of detention looming large in your future.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you broke the law.”
Courtney picked up a mop, the Endust, and the rags. She headed for the squad room.
“Hey,” Molly said.
Courtney turned back.
“Try to enjoy yourself,” Molly said.
“Whatever,” Courtney said.
—
They had agreed to meet for breakfast at Daisy’s at seven. Jesse arrived promptly, but when he got to the table, he found Lucas Wellstein already in full rant. His audience was Captain Healy.
Beside him was a stack of newspapers, each emblazoned with a Marisol Hinton headline.
“You’re late,” he said to Jesse, then continued unabated. “We checked out the break-in at the cottage. It’s likely that the killer was staying there. We found food remnants and drug-related debris. We’re running tests now.”
“Are you thinking it was Ryan Rooney,” Jesse said.
“It’s possible. But who’s to say he’s not deep in the bowels of the Grand Tetons, eating pork and beans from a can, and that someone else did it.”
“I am,” Jesse said.
“I’m sorry,” Wellstein said.
“I’m to say,” Jesse said.
“To say what?”
“That he’s not deep in the bowels of the Grand Tetons, eating pork and beans from a can.”
“Then where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you can say with a degree of certainty that he’s not in the Grand Tetons.”
“Yes.”
“Either back it up with facts, Stone, or keep your opinion to yourself.”
“Are you eliminating him from suspicion?”
“Ryan Rooney?”
“Yes.”
“No. But I also like someone else.”
“Who?”
“Wilson Cromartie.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“His DNA is everywhere.”
“And that’s why you suspect him?”
“That’s part of the reason.”
“And the other part?”
“She appears to have been verbally abusing him publicly.”
“He didn’t do it.”
“I believe the evidence is inconclusive. It was nighttime. Hinton and Greenberg were sitting apart from the action. In the dark. Who’s to say your Mr. Cromartie didn’t step up to them and fire?”
“He had no cause.”
“He had plenty of cause. If she was disrespectful of him in public, who knows how she behaved in private. What if she resisted his romantic advances.”
“‘His romantic advances’?”
“He was sharing a hotel suite with a beautiful woman. Who’s to know what took place between them?”
“Nothing took place between them. And they weren’t sharing the suite. He was in an adjoining room.”
“Thank you for your opinion, Stone.”
“Since when did I become Stone?”
Wellstein didn’t say anything.
“Yesterday it was Chief Stone. Then it was Jesse. Today it’s Stone. How did I fall from grace so quickly?”
“Don’t get into my face with your bullshit,” Wellstein said.
“My bullshit?”
“That’s right.”
“Let me guess,” Jesse said after a moment. “Princeton.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m guessing Princeton. With your extraordinary people skills and your incredible charm, you had to have graduated from Princeton.”
“Fuck off,” Wellstein said.
“See, I knew it.”
“Where’s your bodyguard now?”
“My bodyguard?”
“You’re the one who hired him.”
“Marisol Hinton hired him,” Jesse said.
“On your recommendation. Where is he?”
“Last time I saw him was yesterday.”
“Well, today he’s disappeared.”
“Ryan Rooney did it,” Jesse said.
“Why don’t we wait until all the facts are in before arriving at that conclusion,” Wellstein said.
Jesse stood.
“You know where to find me if you need me,” he said to Lucas Wellstein.
He glanced briefly at Captain Healy, then left the restaurant.
—
Jesse was heading for his office, and as he passed Molly’s desk, he motioned for her to follow.
She sighed, stood, and joined him.
“I hate to admit it, but you were right,” she said as she sat down in the chair opposite his desk.
Jesse looked at her.
“Girl’s a first-class pain in the ass.”
“It’s our job to change that. To show her the light.”