Robert B. Parker's Debt to Pay (19 page)

S
itting down the quiet street from the neat ranch house, watching the comings and goings of the Crane children, he supposed Molly would have been the ideal target all by herself. She would be perfect in a hundred ways. She was still quite pretty for a woman her age, though she buried her looks beneath her uniform. Her looks were more genuine somehow, so different from the rude blonde's. The blonde's looks were so brittle and superficial. By their second day together, after the makeup had smeared and the sweat had soaked her hair, there wasn't much beautiful about her. She cracked so easily and he hadn't even hurt her, not really, not the way he would have liked to. He'd only ever touched her to reset her shoulder, to stroke her hair, or to clean her up.

Molly would be different. She was stubborn. She would put up a fight. She would die hard even if, in the end, she would break. In the end they were all alike. They all begged for him to kill them. He had gotten to know Molly over these last few months as he had gotten to know them all: by watching, by listening, by hiding in plain sight in their midst. He had been careful to stay out of Jesse Stone's line of sight. He was the dangerous one. Not the rest of them. That buffoon
Simpson had once held the door open for him at the Gull. No wonder they called him Suitcase. He seemed to be about as intelligent as one. He had sat across from Healy in a doctor's office. But that was easy. Healy was so distracted by the state of his wife's health.

He sat there in the driver's seat, windows down, enjoying the hints of fall in the air. Dallas was still like an oven, though not as horrible as it had been during July and August as he cemented his plans and crossed paths with Belinda June Yankton. He kind of missed her. He had never experienced that kind of close proximity with a woman for that long without the cycles of pain. He laughed at himself, not something he did frequently, thinking that he had liked knowing she would be there waiting for him when he got back from his stupid catering jobs. There were times he had found his mind wandering, planning their time together when he got back to West Dallas. He missed the feel of her hair against his fingertips and the palm of his hand. He even wondered how she was doing, because that wasn't the type of information the police released to the media. Maybe he would drop in on her someday. Just the look on her face would be worth the risk.

And as he sat there, he thought again of the perfection of Molly Crane in terms of Jesse Stone and the debt to pay. It seemed to him that of all the people in Stone's life, Molly knew him best. She was closer to him in ways no one else was or would ever be. At a bar one night after he had shot out the rear tires of two Hondas, he had overheard two of Stone's cops discussing Jesse and Molly. They were speculating that they had probably slept together once and that it had gone badly.

“That's got to be why they're always sniping at each other,” the one cop said.

“No, you idiot, that's exactly wrong,” said the other. “It's 'cause
they haven't and they want to that they're always busting on each other.”

The trouble with Stone was that he collected women the way some men collected memorabilia or coins. And the insane part of it was how devoted they were to him, how devoted they remained years after they had parted ways. Even his first girlfriend from when he had played baseball still had feelings for him. And it was to save her life that Stone had started this. He had considered going back to pay her a visit as well, to finish the job he had started.
Maybe someday
was his new mantra. He repeated it over and over and over again because he liked the sound of it and the fantasies attached to it. But he had to focus on the now and the near future.

He grew bored with his surveillance of the Crane house. Molly, for all of her camouflaged good looks, was not very exciting to watch. She was just another tired small-town housewife with too many kids and a husband she had probably tired of long ago. The smallness of most people's lives was shocking. He used to like the thought that his coming into a person's life was finally a bit of excitement. Exciting for him, at least. He was fairly certain his targets would have some different words for it. He started up the Sonic and made a U-turn. There was nothing more to gain by his staying here.

He had planned another bit of mischief before leaving Paradise. It was intended to throw Jesse Stone, who he knew was probably already in Dallas, even further off his guard. But as he drove toward Salter Road, where the rear tire of yet another old Honda Civic was waiting, he felt the pull of something else, curiosity, or perhaps opportunity. He slowed down. Stopped. The Honda could wait. He thought about Luther Simpson and that bouquet of flowers. He made another turn and backtracked, heading to the mousy woman's house, the one with the empty window boxes.

J
esse couldn't sleep. It was mostly silent in the hotel room except for the low thrumming of the air conditioner. Normally, he could have slept through carpet bombing, but not tonight, not even after too many Black Labels and the most intense sex he and Diana had ever had. And that was really saying something. There had been nothing normal about tonight.

Normal had been getting squeezed out of Jesse's life from the second he'd picked up his mail that day two months ago and noticed a Vineland Park, Texas, address on a fancy envelope. After Gino Fish's suicide, normal had seemed to be less and less of a possibility. What was normal about chasing a vengeful ghost, a killer who might or might not be dead? What was normal about Jenn and Diana, arm in arm, dressed alike, giggling and pointing? What was normal about Jenn belonging to someone else, living in another man's house, marrying him? Jesse didn't use words like
surreal
very often, but there was no other way for him to describe the scene or the way he felt about it.

And then there was Jenn, pulling him aside and practically begging for them to have some time together, alone. What was he
supposed to do with that? Jenn and her drama, it had all come rushing back at him. He'd told Diana about Jenn's request. He wasn't going to hide things from her. He wasn't going to lie to Diana. She wasn't like Jenn in that way. There were times when they were together, even after they were together, that Jenn had wanted him to lie to her. Jenn had always wanted Jesse to fix things, to make the world right, and in the next moment she would work to screw it all up again.

Jesse hated that he was still vulnerable to Jenn's gravity. At least Jenn's pull on him no longer carried the weight of the sun. It was more like the moon, a tug at him, not an irresistible force. It ate at him, though, that she would even ask. Besides, where and how could they meet and spend time alone together? There wasn't any doubt that Kahan's men were watching every step Jenn, Diana, and Jesse took while they were in town. Then there was Peepers. Even if they could escape all the watchful eyes, it would be foolish to do so. It would be presenting Peepers his dream scenario on a silver platter.
Come and get us.

“Go,” Diana said earlier. “I'm sure she has some things to say to you that she's meant to say for a long time, and I'm sure that's true for you also.”

“What do I have to say to her?”

“Gee, I don't know. How about wishing her luck and that you're happy for her? Unless you're not.”

“Please.”

“Well, then,” Diana said, “give her a chance to say what she has to say. Maybe she needs this to be sure she's doing the right thing.”

“Be sure? Why did she agree to marry Hale if she wasn't sure?”

“Is anybody ever sure about marriage?”

“You've got a point.”

“Of course I do,” she said.

“What did you two talk about when you disappeared?”

“She showed me the house. What a place.”

“That's not much of an answer.”

“What do you expect me to say, Jesse, that we compared notes on you?”

“I don't know what I expect.”

“Your nose is growing, Chief Stone.”

“Come on, Di, give me a break.”

“We made the best of what was a really uncomfortable situation,” Diana said. “We talked about how all the other guests seemed to be waiting for us to scratch each other's eyes out or spill drinks over our heads and how we were glad neither of us had given the crowd what they were spoiling for. We made small talk about the house and the wedding parties and her wedding gown. And . . .”

“And?”

“And she asked if we were getting married.”

“
We?
As in you and me?” That'd gotten Jesse's attention. He had sat up in bed. “What did you say?”

“Yes.”

“What? Wait. Do I get a say in this?”

“I'm sorry, Jesse.” She turned away from his stare. “It just came out of my mouth. I didn't mean for it to happen, but there was Jenn showing me this grand house, and her amazing ring, and telling me how happy and in love she was and—”

“But I thought you could never be happy in a place like Paradise. If I get married again, I don't want to get divorced again. I won't do that. For better or worse, Paradise is my home now, Di. I'm not pulling up roots again.”

“I know. I know.” She sat up, too. “I didn't mean to say it. It was an impulsive, defensive thing I blurted out.”

“When were you planning to let me in on the happy news?”

“Please, Jesse, I already feel like a complete idiot. I'm sorry. You have to believe me that I didn't mean to say it.”

He reached out his right arm and tucked some loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “What's done is done. I believe you didn't mean to say it, but did you mean it?”

She grabbed his hand. “I'm not certain what you're asking me.”

“I'm asking you if you want me to ask you to get married.”

“Yes!” she said.

He tilted his head at her and gave her a grave look. “No one's here besides us. There's no need to compete with Jenn. There's nothing written in—”

“Jeez, Jesse Stone, shut up and ask me before I change my mind just to piss you off.”

“Will you marry me?”

“I already said yes.”

She leaned over and kissed him. That began something that didn't stop until they had once again fallen breathless and sweating in each other's arms.

Now Diana was sound asleep, snoring softly, curled up in a top sheet on her side of the bed. Jesse, staring up through the darkness at the green light on the smoke alarm, was rehashing how his proposal of marriage had come about and contemplating the word and the state of normalcy. He got out of bed and pulled the last little bottle of Black Label out of the minibar.

C
hief Pruitt was right on time. His Vineland Park PD Suburban pulled up to the hotel entrance at exactly eleven. A few minutes prior to the sheriff's arrival, Jesse, drinking his third cup of coffee, strolled over to a guy who was clearly one of Kahan's minions. He stood beside him but didn't look at him.

“I'll be with Chief Pruitt all day until the party tonight,” Jesse said, flipping through a stack of
Wall Street Journal
s. “Don't waste your time on me. Keep eyes on Miss Evans. If you follow me, I'll know it. And I'll make an ugly scene. You copy?”

“Copy that,” Kahan's man said, his voice barely a whisper.

Pruitt was in good spirits. He gave Jesse a firm handshake and a pat on the shoulder. Told him how beautiful he thought Diana was.

“You're looking a little rough around the edges, there, Jesse,” Pruitt said when he noticed Jesse hadn't said much. “A few too many?”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Like a flashing neon sign, son.”

Jesse laughed. Pruitt, too.

“It's not only the scotch,” Jesse said.

“Pressure getting to you?”

Pressure comes in all shapes and sizes,
Jesse thought, considering he'd just committed himself to Diana for the rest of his life. But he understood what Pruitt was referring to.

“Not me I'm worried about, Chief Pruitt. It's everyone else.”

“Call me Jed. And worrying about everyone else, that about describes a chief's job, doesn't it?”

Jesse nodded, staring out the window of the big SUV.

“Problem this time is that everyone involved is someone I care about. It's one thing to worry about your town. You can have some distance from it most of the time, enough to be rational. It's something else when it's the people closest to you that you're worrying over. No distance. Hard to make clear choices.”

“I hear you, Jesse. I surely do.”

That was when Pruitt wisely changed the subject to baseball. That pleased Jesse. He didn't get to talk much baseball with anyone except Healy, and until Peepers reared his head again, Jesse hadn't seen much of his old state police friend. And these days, given Healy's retirement and the health of his wife, baseball took a backseat when they got together. Suit was more of a football fan. The rest of his cops were such dyed-in-the-wool Sox fans that it was impossible to have a baseball discussion that didn't include the Sox and the hated Yankees. For them, the other twenty-eight teams were inconveniences, games to fill in the spaces between Sox–Yankees games.

Pruitt recalled games Jesse had played in. They discussed the guys Jesse had played with in the minors, the ones who had made it to the show and those who hadn't. Vic Prado's name came up, of course.

“So was he really mixed up with the Boston mob like the media reports said?” Pruitt asked.

“Uh-huh, but he paid a big price.”

“Yes, sir, he'll be spending a lot of time behind bars.”

“That, too, but I meant something else,” Jesse said. “Peepers was the guy who nearly tortured Vic to death. That's what started this whole mess. Long story.”

“We got a few minutes.”

“Maybe some other time, Jed. Okay?”

“Sure thing.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, the kind that happens between people who are getting along but don't really know each other. Pruitt broke it up by going back to an earlier part of the conversation.

“I hear your Diana can really handle herself. Ex-FBI, right?”

“Uh-huh. A few weeks ago, she chased a mugger down in Boston. Didn't hesitate. Saw it happen and was out of the car before I could move.”

“She sounds like a woman full of surprises.”

“You've got no idea.”

They didn't speak much for the rest of the ride, but the awkwardness was gone. Pruitt had a satisfied smile on his face that he kept there right up until the moment he pulled the Suburban into the semicircular front drive of an apartment and hotel complex that smelled of money. But by the time the VPPD chief put the SUV in park, the smile was gone. From his serious expression, one might've believed he had never smiled in his life.