“Try not to be cute, okay.”
“It’s hard for me not to be cute.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Crow?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Have you tried to find him?”
“No.”
“Would you? In the interests of cooperation with a federal agency.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“You’re one incredible ballbuster.”
“Everyone says that.”
“And it’s no wonder.”
Healy took a sip of his scotch and stood, dislodging Mildred.
“You could at least try to take this a bit more seriously,” he said.
“Crow didn’t do it.”
Healy didn’t say anything.
“Ryan Rooney killed her.”
“I’m not doubting you.”
“Then what’s your point?”
“I’m a big fan of peace in the valley,” Healy said.
“Woody Guthrie?”
Healy stared at him.
“Maybe if you hummed a few bars,” Jesse said.
“I knew this was a mistake.”
“The scotch was good, though.”
“The scotch was excellent,” Healy said.
He took one last pull on his glass, looked around for a few moments, then stepped off the porch and headed for his car.
52
Jesse was at the station early the next morning. He flipped on the lights in his office, then poured himself a coffee.
Despite Molly’s critical glare, he grabbed a jelly donut and headed past her desk and back toward his office.
She followed him.
“Do you ever think about the consequences of filling your face with globs of saturated fat and cholesterol,” she said.
“Some day they’ll discover that donuts are actually good for you.”
He took a bite and chewed it slowly enough to gain her attention.
“Swallow it, will you. You’re making me nauseous.”
“You’re the one wandered in here uninvited. It’s my office, and I’ll eat what I choose in it.”
“Why are you doing it?”
“Doing what?”
“Wasting your time with that awful child.”
“You mean Courtney?”
“Yes.”
“I think she’s gotten a bum steer.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Her parents,” he said.
“What about them?”
“They’re the cause.”
“So you see her as a victim.”
“I do.”
“Which appeals to your hyperactive sense of responsibility?”
“I think I can help her.”
“Point made.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s incorrigible. But just maybe she’s not.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“She deserves a chance.”
“A chance at what?”
“At seeing the other side of the coin.”
“Which you’re planning to show her.”
“Yes.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“At least I’ll have tried.”
Molly stared at him.
“Was there something else that you wanted,” he said.
She handed him the messages.
He thumbed through them.
“Dave Muntz called,” he said.
“That’s what the message says.”
Jesse looked at her and then dialed the number.
“This is David,” Muntz said.
“What’s up?”
“Craigslist.”
“What about it?”
“I called Craigslist.”
“And?”
“I asked about all of their real estate listings for this area during the last few months. Turns out that a Boston resident who owns a cabin in South Hamilton had it up for rent.”
“Okay.”
“It caught my attention because it was so close to Paradise, and because it was the only listing for the area. So I figured what the hell, and called the owner.”
“Okay.”
“He told me that he rented the cabin for a month.”
“Okay.”
“It’s rented.”
“Can you help me out a bit more, Dave. What in the fuck are you talking about?”
“According to the owner, the entire transaction was carried out on Craigslist.”
“So?”
“The renter listed his address as Beverly Hills, California. His check was drawn on a Beverly Hills bank. He picked up the keys from a prearranged post office box in Salem.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“The renter lists his name as Buddy Fairbanks.”
“Who’s Buddy Fairbanks?”
“Are you ready for this, Jesse?”
“Come on, Dave.”
“Buddy Fairbanks is the name of the character that Ryan Rooney played in Tomorrow We Love.”
“How do you know?”
“I looked it up.”
“Where’s the cabin?”
Muntz provided Jesse with the information.
“I’ll check it out,” Jesse said.
“I thought you might.”
“This is very good police work, Dave.”
“Thanks, Jesse.”
He hung up the phone and stared at Molly.
“Good news?”
“Maybe.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Pay a visit to South Hamilton.”
“You’re not going to inform Agent Wellstein?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t like him.”
Molly shrugged.
“Never let it be said that maturity clouded your judgment,” she said.
She returned to her desk.
Jesse picked up the phone and dialed.
“What,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“Bingo,” Jesse said.
53
Jesse dropped Crow off at a clearing in the woods, a mile or so from Ryan Rooney’s rented cabin.
Crow had never left Paradise. Since moving out of Marisol’s hotel, he had been living in a makeshift lean-to that he had carved into the sand dunes at North Beach. The cool fall weather ensured his privacy, and he had always been more comfortable living amidst nature than among people.
Jesse watched as Crow unloaded a few things from the trunk of his car. The only weapon he carried was his bowie knife.
“That’s it? A knife,” Jesse said.
Crow nodded.
“This guy is armed.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Cell phone?”
“Shirt pocket.”
“You’ll call me,” Jesse said.
Crow nodded.
“How do you say ‘Good luck’ in Apache,” Jesse said.
“Go get ’em, kemosabe.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have asked.”
The two men looked at each other.
“This means a lot to me, Jesse,” Crow said.
“Then try not to fuck it up,” Jesse said.
Crow smiled, then trotted off into the woods.
—
Ryan Rooney heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. The cabin was hidden deep enough in the woods that it was impossible to hear the highway traffic. Someone was definitely headed his way.
He peeked through the curtains at the front window. A police cruiser was inching its way toward the cabin.
As a preventive measure, Ryan had packed a duffel bag in case he had to make a quick getaway.
He grabbed the duffel, opened the kitchen door, and fled into the woods.
—
Jesse got out of the cruiser and approached the cabin. His Colt Commander automatic pistol was in his hand.
He knocked on the door.
There was no response.
“Police,” he said. “Please exit the premises with your hands in the air.”
Nothing happened.
He turned the doorknob. It was locked.
He walked the perimeter of the cabin. When he reached the back door, he tried the handle. It was unlocked. He went inside.
He carefully checked each room. The cabin was empty. He holstered his Colt and looked around, careful not to disturb anything, so that he wouldn’t leave a trail that might capture the attention of a CSI team.