“I can’t show those pictures

around,” Molly said.

“Get the Feeney part blown up,” Jesse said. “Eliminate

Candace.”

“Okay.”

“Show them around for a couple days, principal, guidance, a few

teachers and students. When we’re sure the whole school knows we’re

looking for Feeney because we found the pictures, then we’ll pick

him up. Get Suit to help you. Tell him, now that he’s got a legitimate reason to be there, that he can,” Jesse smiled,

“abandon

his disguise.”

“And we don’t mention Candace,”

Molly said.

“No.”

“Ever?”

“I told her I’d keep her out of

it,” Jesse said.

“And you keep your word,” Molly said.

“When I can,” Jesse said.

“When Bo gets out,” Molly said,

“won’t he go right to his

buddies and warn them?”

“Sure,” Jesse said. “But

they’re high school kids living at

home. What are they going to do? Flee the jurisdiction?”

Molly nodded.

“Might even work for us,” Molly said.

“The other two creeps know

we’re after them, it’ll make them jumpy.”

“The jumpier they get,” Jesse said,

“the easier to

flip.”

“And you think you can flip them?”

“My guess?” Jesse said. “All

three.”

28

In a spitting snow, Jesse sat in his car with the motor running

and the heater on, in the parking lot outside Channel 3. He looked at the digital clock on his dashboard. Jenn would have finished her six o’clock weather. He had the wipers on low interval and between

swipes the sporadic snow collected thinly on his windshield. At 6:40 Jenn came out wearing a fake fur jacket and a cowboy hat. She was with a man Jesse didn’t recognize. Jesse sat for a moment listening to his own breathing, feeling his interior self dwindle and intensify. Jenn looked up at the man and laughed and bumped her head against his shoulder. Jesse turned off the motor and got out of the car. He was aware of the gun on his hip, under his jacket.

Jenn saw him.

“Jesse?” she said.

“You didn’t return my calls,”

Jesse said. “I thought I’d catch

you here.”

Jenn looked at him silently for what seemed to Jesse a long time, then she said, “Jesse, this is Bob Mikkleson, our station

manager.”

Bob was tall and healthy-looking, with silver hair combed back carefully, and lovingly sprayed. He started to put his hand out, realized Jesse wasn’t going to shake hands, and put his hand back

at his side.

“I’m sorry,” Jenn said,

“but I’m up to here. You’re on the list, I would have called you tomorrow.”

Jesse nodded and moved slightly closer to Bob. He didn’t know

why, and he hadn’t planned to. There seemed to be a force outside

himself. Jenn was single; she had every right to be with Bob. Bob wasn’t doing anything wrong. Jesse moved a little more toward him,

as if compelled by gravity. Bob was frowning.

“What was it you called about, Jesse?”

Jenn said.

“Just to talk,” Jesse said.

“Well,” Jenn said. “Let me call

you tomorrow. Bob and I have a

dinner reservation.”

“Sure,” Jesse said.

He was next to Bob now. What if I shot him?

The

possibility made his spirit expand. But, it would mean the end of whatever was left of Jesse and Jenn. Even if he got away with it, she could never get past it. He could feel himself contract again.

The muscles in his neck and shoulders bunched. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a long drag of winter air.

Bob said, “You’re the

ex-husband.”

Jesse nodded.

“Are you all right?” Jenn said to him.

Jesse nodded again.

“You’re some sort of police

chief,” Bob said. “Somewhere on the

North Shore.”

Jesse realized that he was so close to Bob now that their sleeves touched. He nodded.

“Well,” Bob said.

“It’s been good talking to you, but we’re already late for our reservation at 9 Park, and you know how hard they are to get.”

Jesse neither moved nor spoke. He could feel Jenn watching him.

“Jesse,” she said.

He didn’t answer.

“Jesse,” Jenn said again.

“We’ve done a lot of work since I came here from Los Angeles.”

Jesse’s shoulders moved, as if he were trying to loosen

them.

“Don’t ruin it,” Jenn said.

Bob was two or three inches taller than Jesse. His skin had the

smooth blue tone of a man who shaved twice a day. As close as he was, Jesse could break Bob’s nose with the first punch.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jenn

said.

Bob nodded at Jesse, and the two of them walked toward Bob’s

car. Jesse watched them until they drove away. Then he walked slowly to his own car and opened the door and got in. He sat in his car with the door open and one foot still outside, and put his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.

29

She was driving the Saab through the narrow downtown of Paradise. He sat beside her in the front seat with a Canon digital camera, which was small enough to sit comfortably in the palm of his hand.

“Her,” she said.

He photographed a copper-haired woman pushing a stroller.

“We doing a woman next?” he said.

“Even it up,” she said.

“We’ve two men and a

woman.”

He sang, “A boy for you and a girl for me.”

She joined him.

“Can’t you see how happy we will

be.”

They both laughed.

“How about that good-looking black woman?”

he

said.

“Certainly,” she said.

“We’re not racists.”

Again they laughed together. He snapped a picture of the black woman.

“Don’t see many black people in

Paradise,” he

said.

She giggled.

“If we decide on her, you’ll see one less,” she

said.

He nodded, his eyes scanning the sidewalks.

“I want this one to be a knockout,” he said.

“Your choice,” she said.

He photographed a tall woman in a lavender warm-up suit.

“This is fun,” he said.

She turned the car right onto a street leading to the waterfront.

“I suppose it shouldn’t be fun,”

she said.

“You mean other people would think it was awful?”

“Yes.”

He put the camera on his lap and leaned back against the seat.

“When I was in college,” he said,

“we had to read something in

English class by some old-time guy called the Venerable Bede. I don’t remember it much, but I always remember one scene.

There’s

this big banquet hall and it’s brightly lit and there’s a big warm

fire. Outside it’s cold and dark. But inside everybody’s eating and

drinking and having a hell of a time. A sparrow flies into one end of the hall, out of the cold darkness, and flies through the bright warm hall and out the other end into the cold darkness again.”

She glanced at him as she drove. He loved to pontificate.

“So?” she said.

“So human life is like the flight of the sparrow. Or maybe it

was a swallow. I can’t remember, but the point’s the

same.”

She pulled into the little parking lot by the town landing and parked in front of the restaurant.

“We’re only here for a little

while,” she said, “and we have the

right to make the most of it.”

“Some people collect postage stamps,” he said. “We like to kill

people.”

“Is it really the same?” she said.

“After we’ve done it, and we’re

making love, and the sex is like

nothing else either one of us has ever known … the feeling

… wouldn’t you kill for that?”

She breathed in deeply for a moment and reached over and put her