“Like death,” Jesse said.

“Or torture or both. But rape is the thing your mother was

scared of. It’s the possibility that you have not only known but

felt, since little boys peeked up your dress.”

“You knew we did that?” Jesse said.

“Any woman has always known she is the object of sexual interest

from almost any man, and that almost any man, if he chooses, can force himself sexually upon her.”

“You ever been raped?” Jesse said.

“No. But almost any woman has had more sexual attention from

some man than she wanted. We all know about duress.”

“Not all of us are, ah, duressful,” Jesse said.

“No. But you know what they say - you have to judge what the

enemy can do, not what he might do.”

“Are we all the enemy?”

“Oh, God, no,” Molly said. “I

love you, Jesse … And my

husband …” She paused. “He’s

my best friend, my lover, my

…” She shook her head. “But there are things women know that

men may never know.”

“Which is why you’re all over this rape case like ugly on a

toad.”

“Yes.”

“Men may know things women

don’t,” Jesse said.

“I’m sure that is so. But rape is one of the things we know,”

Molly said.

Jesse nodded. “Control might become sort of an issue for some

women,” Jesse said.

“If they are with a controlling man,”

Molly said.

“You do a lot of thinking,” Jesse said.

“For an Irish Catholic

cop.”

“An Irish Catholic married female mother of three kids

small-town cop,” Molly said.

“Exactly,” Jesse said.

“So,” Molly said, “I’m

going to haunt them.”

“Just do everything right,” Jesse said,

“so if they did do it,

we don’t lose them.”

“I know.”

“And don’t forget that these may be high school kids but they

are bigger and stronger than you are.”

“It’s a thing women never, ever

forget,” Molly

said.

“Duh,” Jesse said. “I guess

that’s pretty much what you’ve been

telling me.”

“Pretty much,” Molly said, and smiled at him. “Don’t get

nervous, though. I won’t keep telling you.”

15

The woman’s body lay on its side, at the far end of the parking

lot in the Paradise Mall. Her head was jammed against the rear tire of a silver Volvo Cross Country wagon. A shopping cart full of groceries stood nose-in against the black Audi sedan next to the Volvo. Jesse sat on his heels beside Peter Perkins and looked at her.

“Two in the chest,” Perkins said.

“Look like small-caliber to

me.”

“Just like Kenneth Eisley,” Jesse said.

“At first look,” Perkins said.

“Keys were in her hand,” Jesse said.

“And she dropped them when

she was shot.”

“She probably popped the rear gate with the remote on her key

chain,” Perkins said. “Rear gate is unlatched but not

open.”

Jesse looked at the unemptied shopping cart. Behind them several

people, attracted by the blue lights on the patrol cars, stood in silence, held away from the crime scene by Simpson and deAngelo. In the distance a siren sounded.

“That’ll be the EMTs,” Perkins

said.

“She doesn’t need them anymore.”

“No,” Perkins said. “But they

can haul her away.”

Jesse nodded.

“So,” he said. “She food shops

in the market. And checks out and

wheels her cart out here … This her car?”

“I assume so.”

“Try her keys,” Jesse said.

Wearing gloves, Perkins picked up the key chain and pointed the

remote at the Volvo and clicked the power lock. The lights flashed and the door locks clicked. He unlocked the doors the same way, then dropped the keys into an evidence bag and made a notation on the label.

“Okay, so she comes out here to her car

…” He looked

around the parking lot. “Which is way out here because the lot is

full.”

“Friday night,” Perkins said.

“It’s always like this on a Friday

night?”

“Yeah. Worse before a holiday.”

“She pops her rear door,” Jesse said,

“to put her stuff away,

and gets two in the chest. She maybe lived five more seconds and turned half away before she died, and fell, and her head jammed up that way against the rear tire.”

Perkins nodded.

“That’s how I’d read

it,” he said.

The mercury floods in the parking lot gave everything a faint bluish tinge. In other parts of the lot cars were looking for spots and waiting for people to load their groceries and pull out so that they could pull in. If they saw the blue lights they didn’t react,

and having places to go, went.

The Paradise emergency response wagon rolled in to a stop and Duke Vincent got out. He knelt beside the woman and felt for a pulse. He knew, as they all knew, that he wouldn’t find one.

But it

was routine. It would be embarrassing to take a living body to the morgue.

“Can we move her yet?” he said to Jesse.

Jesse looked at Perkins. “You all set?” he said.

“Yeah, I’ve chalked the outline.”

“Okay, Dukie,” Jesse said.

“She got a name?” Duke said as they loaded her into the back of

the wagon.

“Driver’s license says Barbara

Carey.”

Vincent nodded. “You noticed she got shot just like the guy on

the beach,” he said.

“I noticed,” Jesse said.

“Just thought I’d mention it,”

Duke said, and got in the wagon

and drove away.

The people gathered to watch began to drift away. Suitcase Simpson came over to stand with Jesse and Peter Perkins.

“Whaddya think,” he said.

He spoke to both of them, but he looked at Jesse.

“Well, there was money still in her

purse,” Perkins said. “She

was still wearing her rings and necklace.”

“Unless it was a random shooting,” Jesse said, “the killer, or

killers, had to follow her here. Even if they knew she was coming here to shop, they’d have no way to know where she’d

park.”

“Which means they drove,” Simpson said.

Jesse nodded.

“And if they drove, they’d park near where she parked and sit in

the car and wait for her to come out,” Jesse said.

“Peter, you and

Suit and Anthony get the license numbers of any cars that could see her car from where they were parked.”

“You think the killer could still be here?” Simpson

said.

“Don’t know,” Jesse said.

“Let’s see.”

He jabbed his forefinger toward the parked cars.

“You bet,” Perkins said.

Jesse went to his car and called Molly on the radio.

“Got a woman shot to death at the mall,”

he said. “Driver’s

license says she’s Barbara Carey, Sixteen Rose Ave. See if she’s

got a next of kin.”

“If there is, do I notify?” Molly said.

“I’ll do that,” Jesse said.

“No,” Molly said. “I can do

it.”

“Okay,” Jesse said. “Let me

know.”

Among the few people still watching, a husband and wife held hands and whispered together.

“Who’s that talking on the

radio?” she said.

“Chief of police, I think.”

“He’s cute,” she said.

“I didn’t notice,” he said.

“What are the other cops doing,” she said.

“Taking down license plates.”

“My God,” she said.

“They’ll find our names.”

“So,” he said.

“They’ll find a hundred other names

too.”

“Do you think they’ll question

us?”

“It’s a small-town force,” he

said. “I doubt they’ve got the

manpower.”

“Be kind of exciting if they did,” she said.

“Yes.”

“What would we say.”

“We’d say we came here to pick up some groceries,” he said.