Jesse said. “We’re
officially in favor of it. But if I were you what I would want would be revenge.”
“Chief Stone …” Mrs. Pennington
said.
Her husband shook his head at her.
“That’s what I would like,” he
said.
“Okay,” Jesse said. “Marino,
Feeney and Drake have incriminated
themselves. If we didn’t know anything about you the pictures would
have led us to you.”
Candace nodded. She understood.
“So we need a statement,” Jesse said.
“And if we go to court
we’ll need you to testify.”
“Will anyone else see those pictures?”
Candace
said.
“If we go to trial,” Jesse said,
“the defense will argue that
you were a willing participant and made up the rape story. The pictures would be evidence to the contrary.”
“My God, naked pictures of my daughter,”
Mrs. Pennington said.
“In public. I won’t permit it.”
“We’re a long way past propriety here, Margaret. It’s Candace’s
decision.”
“She’s not old enough to decide something like this,” Mrs.
Pennington said.
“I’ll give a statement,” Candace
said. “And I’ll testify if I
have to.”
“Candace …”
“Good,” Jesse said. “Is there
someplace you can go and give
Molly your statement?”
“They can use the kitchen,” Pennington said.
As she followed Candace from the room, Molly smiled at Jesse, and, shielding the gesture with her body, gave him a thumbs-up.
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Jesse looked through the big window at the brisk gray ocean.
“Kids like Candace,” Jesse said, still looking at the ocean,
“often need some therapy after an experience like this one.”
“You mean from a psychiatrist?” Mrs.
Pennington
said.
“Yes,” Jesse said. “If you need
a referral I can get one for
you.”
Mrs. Pennington looked at her husband.
“We’ll see,” he said.
“Thanks for the offer.”
“As far as the case goes,” Resnick said, after a moment, “a plea
bargain would certainly seem possible.”
“Be up to the defense lawyers and the DA,”
Jesse
said.
“But you agree that it could happen?” Mrs.
Pennington
said.
“It often does,” Jesse said.
38
“We had sex an hour before she
died,” Jesse
said.
Dix nodded.
“I’m sad,” Jesse said.
“And I’m insulted.”
Dix tilted his head slightly.
“I’m the chief of police and I’m
trying to catch these bastards
and they shoot a woman I just made love to.”
“You think it was intentional?” Dix said.
“I don’t know,” Jesse said.
“But it makes me
mad.”
“And you think it was more than one
person?” Dix
said.
“Yes. The two guns don’t make any sense to me
otherwise.”
Dix was wearing a blue blazer today, and a white shirt.
Everything about him gleamed. His shaved head, his starched shirt, his thick-soled mahogany shoes. He sat with his hands laced over his flat stomach, rubbing the tips of his thumbs together.
“Jenn called me after Abby was killed,”
Jesse said. “And said
she hoped I was okay.”
Dix waited, moving the tips of his thumbs softly back and forth.
“Then she said she wanted me to give her special access to the
sniper killing, her and a cameraman, inside coverage, follow the whole investigation.”
Dix nodded encouragingly.
“Four people die, and she sees it as a career opportunity.”
“Why would she think you’d allow
that?” Dix said.
Jesse smiled without humor.
“Because she is the, ah, object of my affections,” he
said.
“Object?”
“Just being amusing,” Jesse said.
Dix didn’t say anything. They were quiet. The room shimmered
with stillness. Jesse took in some air. His movements were stiff.
Dix waited. He seemed perfectly comfortable waiting. Jesse’s stiffness loosened.
“She said once,” Jesse’s voice
was hoarse, “that what I really
love is my fantasy of her, and I keep trying to squeeze her into it.”
“What did you say?”
“I said it was fucking shrink talk.”
Dix grinned.
“The object of your affection,” Dix said.
“More fucking shrink talk,” Jesse said.
Dix smiled.
“Sure,” he said. “I am, after
all, a fucking
shrink.”
39
There were too many of them for Jesse’s office, so they went to
the conference room in the station. Jesse was there, at the head of the conference table. Beside him sat an Essex County assistant district attorney named Martin Reagan. Molly and Suitcase Simpson stood against the wall. Bo Marino and his parents sat on one side of the table. Troy Drake and his mother sat on the other side. Two lawyers from a big Boston firm representing both families sat at the end of the table opposite Jesse. The lead attorney was a sleek red-haired woman named Rita Fiore. The other lawyer was a small man with a narrow face and a graying Vandyke beard. His name was Barry Feldman.
“Here’s what we got,” Jesse
said. “Or at least all of it I can
remember. There’s so much that Marty may have to remind me.”
Rita smiled.
“So we begin,” she said.
“We have a sworn statement from Kevin Feeney that he and Bo
Marino and Troy Drake raped Candace Pennington and photographed her naked.”
“I understand that he is clearly identifiable in the pictures,”
Rita said.
“He is,” Jesse said.
“How stalwart of him to admit it,” Rita said.
“We have Candace Pennington’s sworn
statement that Kevin Feeney,
Bo Marino, and Troy Drake raped her and photographed her naked.”
“Hardly a disinterested observer,” Rita said.
Martin Reagan said, “Rita, let’s wait until we get into court to
try the case. We simply want to question the suspects, and they simply wanted their attorney present.”
“Which would be me,” Rita said. She
glanced at Feldman beside
her, “and of course Barry.”
“Barry Feldman,” the other lawyer said.
Jesse nodded. He looked at Troy Drake.
“You got anything you want to say, Troy?”
Troy Drake was very blond with a full-lipped sulky mouth that made him look vaguely like Carly Simon. His mother was as blond as he was, and had the same sulky mouth.
“I’ve advised my clients not to discuss the case,” Rita
said.
Feldman nodded.
“You all planning to take her advice?”
Jesse
said.
No one at the table spoke.
“Okay,” Jesse said. “These
officers will read you your rights
and escort you to your cell.”
“You already arrested me and I got released to my old man,” Bo
said.
“That was for a different crime,” Jesse said. “This is a new
arrest.”
“Can they do this?” Mrs. Drake said.
“I’ll have them out in a few
hours,” Rita said.
“I’m going to ask for remand,”
Reagan said.
“Marty, don’t be ridiculous,”
Rita said. “These are
children.”
“So is Candace Pennington,” Reagan said.
“They can’t put my son in jail,”
Mrs. Drake said. “I know he
didn’t do anything.”
Mrs. Marino was crying. Mr. Marino was red-faced.
“You better keep my kid out of jail,” he said to
Rita.
“Mr. Marino,” Rita said. “I am
the chief criminal litigator at
Cone Oakes and Belding. I’m about as good as it gets. You don’t