Maryglenn flipped open the file, thumbed through the pages, and finished her wine.
“Do you so thoroughly investigate all the women you sleep with?” She laughed in a joyless way. “Must be quite a collection of files you have.”
“I hope you know better than that.”
She poured herself another glass. “Then why?”
“I can’t tell you that, but you’ll know why tomorrow.”
“The drugs.” She fixed her lips into a pained smile. “The reason you’ve been around school so frequently. You think I’m involved somehow.”
“Are you?” Jesse stood. Walked to the large window that looked out at the yacht club, Stiles Island, and the Atlantic. “All that file tells me is you’ve got something to hide, but it doesn’t tell me what it is or why.”
“Don’t you have things to hide, Jesse?”
“Of course, but none of them worthy of name changes and false histories. I always wondered why we never talked about your past. I know you are from around Nashville. At least that’s what your accent tells me. You say you went to art school, but I don’t know which one. You call yourself Maryglenn, but—”
“We don’t talk much about my past because we’re often preoccupied.”
Now it was his turn for a joyless laugh. “True.”
“There were no lies in there, Jesse.” She pointed to her bed and then to her heart. “Or in here. No, my name isn’t Maryglenn, but it’s the name I gave myself. I like it. Better to have a name that draws attention than one that is plain as a sheet of white paper. People who try too hard to hide make it obvious they’re hiding. Besides, Maryglenn is a good name for a painter.”
“Witness protection?”
“I can’t say.”
He asked, “That story about your leg.”
“A lie. The injuries and the pain were real enough, though.”
Jesse pointed at the bed. “A lie told in bed. Just contradicted yourself.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I would know what most women meant, but you aren’t most women.”
“How I sometimes wish I were. Who else knows?”
Jesse shook his head. “Knows what? All I know is what I don’t know.”
“That’s beneath you, Jesse.”
Jesse changed subjects. “You know about my fiancée, don’t you?”
“Diana. I know what I’ve heard. That she was murdered and the killer escaped.”
“She had a secret, too. When we met, she was an FBI special agent using an alias and working undercover.”
“What does that say about you, do you think?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m not here about me.”
She laughed. “You think not? Jesse Stone, police chief, homicide detective, blind man.”
“Maybe.” Jesse picked up the file and went to the door. “I gave you a chance to explain and you didn’t. Don’t run and don’t be absent from school tomorrow.”
He let himself out without saying goodbye.
Seventy-four
He had resisted making the call, but now felt he had no choice. He had hoped that by confronting her she would explain herself. But Jesse was a realist, if nothing else. Anyone who had worked so hard to cover her tracks was unlikely to just cop to the facts because someone, even her lover, asked her to remove the veil from her past.
Molly had picked up on it almost immediately; something wasn’t right with Maryglenn’s background. When she had asked for yearbook photos from the schools Maryglenn was alleged to have attended, there were none. None of the administrators at those schools remembered her. She had gotten contact info for some of the faculty alleged to have taught her. None remembered her. Molly was a bulldog that way. That’s why Jesse had always been convinced she would have been a great detective. She had the instinct, the skepticism, and the drive. Once she had found those inconsistencies in Maryglenn’s past, she found others.
Jesse might have been inclined to let things be, were he not aware of some of the abuses by people covered by programs like witness protection. For one thing, most of the people involved in such programs were usually criminals themselves, protected only because they could give up other criminals, ones even worse than themselves. And he knew that the branches of law enforcement administering these types of programs often went out of their way to shield their witnesses from prosecution for other local or unrelated crimes. There had been cases of protected witnesses dealing drugs, robbing banks, raping, committing murder. For all Jesse knew, Maryglenn could have been guilty of anything. He had hoped, if not to get the whole story, at least enough of it to eliminate Maryglenn as a suspect in the drug ring. What he got instead were his own suspicions reinforced.
He scrolled to the name Abe Rosen and pressed the number.
Abraham Rosen had been a colleague of Diana’s at the FBI. Like most straight men who knew her, Abe had been a little bit in love with Diana. More than a little bit, but Abe was different from those others. He had understood Diana, understood why she had undertaken the mission that led to her being forced out of the Bureau. He understood her frustration at never being taken seriously because of her looks. Even understood why she had fallen for a man like Jesse Stone.
Although Jesse had tried to throw himself between the gunman and the bullet that had taken her life, Diana’s parents and just about everyone else from Diana’s old life blamed Jesse for her murder. The perception that Jesse had allowed her killer to escape made their pain that much worse. The facts of what had actually happened in the wake of Diana’s murder was his and Vinnie Morris’s secret to bear. So furious and grief-stricken were her parents, they had refused to let him attend her funeral. If there was anyone Jesse was tempted to share the truth with, it was Abe, but that could never happen. Jesse had already traded once or twice on Abe’s enduring affection for Diana. He was going to that well again.
“Jesse Stone,” Rosen said. There was little enthusiasm in his voice. “Another favor?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What is it this time?”
“I will email a file to you. You’ll understand when you get it. I need an answer asap.”
“Always. Am I risking my career this time?”
“Doubt it.”
“You know, Stone, my having been in love with Diana doesn’t give you carte blanche with me.”
“Never thought it did. But Diana always said you believed in right and wrong.”
Rosen cleared his throat, said, “Things were rough there a few months back. Big news. We had people inside that racist bastard’s organization, and you did more to damage it than we ever could.”
“They were never going to win, but they came pretty close to killing a lot of people.”
“Diana would have been proud of you.” Abe’s voice was brittle.
“I’d like to think so.”
“I miss her.”
“Hard woman not to miss.”
“Send me the file and I’ll see what I can do.”
Rosen was off the phone.
Jesse sat there for a few minutes, thinking about Diana. He had forgiven her for lying to him because he understood why she had lied. He hoped he could do the same for Maryglenn or whatever her name was, but it was going to be impossible if she stood by her lies. Sometimes he still missed drinking. Although he had walked out of an AA meeting less than an hour ago, tonight was one of those times.
Seventy-five