“Your old man’s giving me ten thousand dollars to bring you down.”
“I don’t want to go to Florida.”
“It’s ten thousand dollars, baby,” Esteban said.
“You gonna sell me to my father?” she said.
“No, no. I just bring you down, turn you over, he gives me the ten grand. I wait around a couple days. You run away and we come back up here. How long’s it take to get to Florida?”
“I won’t go,” she said.
“Yeah, baby, you will,” Esteban said. “Up front beside me, or in the trunk, either way you gonna go. Ten thousand dollars’s a lot of money.”
She looked at him in silence for a moment. Then she began to cry.
“Hey,” Esteban said. “Hey, hey. This is for us, baby. You spend a couple fucking days with the old man, and we’re outta there with the money.”
Amber stood and ran. Esteban went after her, out along Marshport Way along the water. A hundred yards up from the marina was a red light. A half-painted, half-primed pickup truck that might once have been blue was stopped at the light. The back was full of loose copper pipe. Amber reached it as the light turned green and as the car started to move Amber stepped up onto the running board and hooked her arm through the window.
A big guy in a black tank top and a do-rag sat in the passenger seat. He had a thick gold chain around his neck.
“What the fuck are you doing,” he said.
“Somebody’s after me,” she said. “Keep going.”
The driver was a wiry kid with longish blond hair, tattoos on both forearms, and the scruffy beginnings of a beard.
“Keep going, hell,” he said. “Whyn’t we stop and clean his clock?”
“No, please, keep going,” Amber said.
The driver looked in the rearview mirror.
“Hell,” he said. “He’s given up anyway. Lemme stop and you can get in.”
She rode in the front seat between them, still crying.
“What’s going on?” the big guy asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Amber said.
The big guy shrugged.
“Where you want to go?” the big guy said. “Want us to take you to the cops?”
“No,” she said. “I…I want to go to Paradise.”
“You want to take her to Paradise?” the big guy said to the driver.
“Sure,” the driver said. “Better than running copper pipe all day.”
40.
Crow came into the Paradise police station with Amber.
“Where the hell did you get her?” Molly said.
“She called me,” Crow said. “From the shopping center.”
“Paradise Mall?” Molly said.
Crow nodded.
“How’d she have your number?” Molly said.
“I gave it to her,” Crow said. “When you cut her loose.”
Molly looked at him for a moment and shook her head, and then looked at Amber.
Amber’s eye makeup was ruined again by crying. She wore lace-up black boots, and black jeans that had been cut off very short, and a tank top with some kind of heavy-metal logo that Molly didn’t recognize.
“How ya doing, Amber?”
Amber shook her head, looking down at the floor.
“He was going to make me go back to my father,” she said.
“Who was?”
“My boyfriend,” Amber said.
“And your boyfriend is?” Molly said.
Amber shook her head.
“Where is your father?” Molly said.
“Florida.”
“Why was your boyfriend going to make you go back?” Molly said.
“My father paid him,” Amber said.
“And what are you doing here?” Molly said.
“I ran away.”
“And you called Crow,” Molly said.
“He said he wouldn’t make me go back,” Amber said.
Molly looked at Crow again. Crow shrugged.
“So,” Molly said to both of them, “what do you need from me?”
Amber continued to look at the floor. She shook her head and didn’t speak.
“Stone around?” Crow said.
“He’s not here at the moment,” Molly said. “You’re welcome to wait.”
“Can I talk with you while I’m waiting?” Crow said.
“Sure.”
“What about her?” Crow said.
“We can put her in a cell,” Molly said.
“I don’t want to be in jail,” Amber said softly to the floor.
“Just a guest,” Molly said. “Cell won’t be locked. You can lie down, take a nap, if you wish.”
Amber didn’t say anything.
“You’ll be safe there,” Molly said. “Until we figure out a better arrangement.”
Amber nodded faintly.
“We’re going to keep you safe,” Molly said. “I promise you.”
“Take the cell,” Crow said to Amber.
Amber said, “Okay.”
Molly walked her back to the little cell block in the back of the station. There were four cells, all empty. The last one had a curtain made from a blanket that could be pulled across the door.
“This is where we usually put women,” Molly said. “Give you a little privacy.”
Amber went in and sat on the cot. There was a sink and a toilet.
“I’ll leave the door open,” Molly said, “and close the curtain. You need anything, come see me.”
Amber nodded. Molly went back to the front desk.
“She jumps pretty quick when you speak,” Molly said.
“She knows I mean it,” Crow said.
Molly nodded. Crow was wearing a faded tan safari shirt with short sleeves. Molly was fascinated with the play of intricate muscles in his arms.
“So what do you think we’re going to do with her?” Molly said.
“Her mother’s dead,” Crow said. “She doesn’t want to go back to her father. She’s on the run from her boyfriend.”
“So you don’t want to look out for her?”
“That’s what I’m doing now,” Crow said.
“We can’t keep her here until she’s like twenty-one,” Molly said. “I mean, she can’t live in the jail.”
“Maybe we can figure something out,” he said.
Molly nodded. They were quiet. Crow seemed comfortable with quiet. He’s all angles and planes, Molly thought, like some kind of really good machine, where everything works perfectly. His eyes were black and seemed to penetrate everything. Molly felt as if he could see through her clothes. It was almost embarrassing.
“Why do you care?” Molly said to Crow.
“I feel like it,” Crow said.
“You care because you feel like caring?”
“Yes.”
“What if you didn’t feel like it?”
“Then I wouldn’t,” Crow said.
He smiled at her.
“I know who you are,” Molly said. “And I know what you do. Actually, you probably do worse than what I know.”
“Much,” Crow said.
“But there seems to be this streak of—What? Chivalry?—running through it.”
“Maybe,” Crow said.
“You like women.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Crow’s eyes held on her. She felt herself blushing. Crow smiled.
“Besides that,” Molly said.
“That’s plenty,” Crow said.
“But is that all?” Molly said.
“Trying to figure me out is a waste of time,” he said.
“Have you figured you out?” Molly said.
“I know what I feel like doing,” Crow said. “And what I don’t.”
“Is that enough?” Molly said.
“Yes,” Crow said. “It is.”
Again, Molly had the odd feeling that she was naked under his gaze. It was a puzzling feeling. It’s even more puzzling, she thought, that maybe I like it.
41.
“Amber Francisco is here,” Molly said when Jesse came into the station.
“Why?”
“Crow brought her in,” Molly said.
“Where is he?”
“He left,” Molly said. “Told me he’d check in with you later.”
“Where is she?” Jesse said.
“In back,” Molly said. “In the women’s cell.”
“Let’s go see her,” Jesse said.
“You want me to fill you in first?” Molly said.
“Nope. I’d rather start fresh. We’ll talk with her and you can compare what she says to what you know.”
Molly nodded and walked with Jesse back to the curtained cell. Molly pulled the curtain aside and looked in.
Amber was lying on her side with her legs bent and her eyes closed. She had washed her face and looked much younger.
“Amber?” Molly said. “You awake?”
Amber opened her eyes and didn’t speak. Molly nodded and pulled the curtain aside and she and Jesse went in. Amber stared at them without moving.
“You remember me, Amber?” Jesse said.
She didn’t say anything.
“If we’re going to work this out, you’ll need to talk. You may as well start now,” Jesse said. “You remember me?”
“Yes.”
“You know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get here?”
“Guys in a pickup truck brought me from Marshport.”
She remained lying on her side. Her face held no animation. Her voice was flat.
“How come?” Jesse said.
“My boyfriend was gonna sell me back to my father.”
“Your boyfriend is Esteban Carty?”
She didn’t answer.
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?” Jesse said.
She shook her head.
“Did he kill your mother?”
She didn’t answer.
“Why won’t you talk about him?” Jesse said.
“I won’t,” Amber said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know who killed your mother?”
She didn’t answer.
“Do you?” Jesse said.
“No.”
“Why did you call Crow?” Jesse said.
She shrugged, which, Jesse thought, might not be easy lying on your side.
“You think he’d protect you from your boyfriend?”
“I had his phone number,” she said.
“And you thought he’d protect you?”
“I thought Esteban would be afraid of him.”
“Your boyfriend,” Jesse said. “Esteban?”
“No. I didn’t mean Esteban. My boyfriend is another man.”
“But you said ‘Esteban.’”
“No,” she said.
Jesse nodded.
“You could have called us,” he said.
“The police?”
“Uh-huh, nine-one-one would have done it.”
“I was afraid you’d arrest me.”
“Arrest you for what?” Jesse said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “For nothing…that’s what cops do.”
“Why don’t you want to go back to your father?” Jesse said.
“He’s creepy,” Amber said. “He’s got all these creepy guys around. And he’ll make me go to school with the nuns. Nuns are creepy.”
Jesse nodded.
“What’s your father do for a living?” Jesse said.
“He does a lot of stuff. He makes a lot of money. But he’s creepy.”
“Any of the creepy guys around him bother you any?” Jesse said.
“Yeah.”
“You ever tell him?”
“He told me to shut up and not talk dirty.”
Jesse nodded.
“So you have a plan?”
“Plan?”
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Where you’re going to live. What you’re going to do for work.”
She looked at him silently with her eyes wide and empty for a long time.
Then she said, “I don’t have no plan.”
“Well, you can bunk here for the moment until we work out something better,” Jesse said. “You want something to eat?”
“I don’t know.”
Jesse nodded as if that made sense.
“Moll,” he said. “Get whoever’s on patrol to stop by Daisy’s and pick up a couple sandwiches.”
“Can I have ice cream?” Amber said.
“What kind?”
“Chocolate?”
“Sure,” Jesse said.
He looked at Molly.
“Coming up,” Molly said.
42.
The Paradise police firing range was outdoors, backing up to some wetlands and shielded by dirt bunkers that had been bulldozed. Jesse had a new Smith & Wesson .40-caliber semiautomatic handgun that he wanted to break in. He had his earmuffs off, reloading a magazine, when Crow parked on the street and walked through the short trail into the firing area.
“Officer Molly told me you were here,” Crow said.
Jesse nodded.
“You want to shoot?” he said.
“Sure,” Crow said. “Can I borrow a gun?”
Jesse smiled.
“You got a gun,” Jesse said.
“It is illegal to carry a gun in this state without a permit,” Crow said.
“You’d have a gun in the shower,” Jesse said.
Crow smiled and spread his hands. Jesse nodded.
“In this town it is legal for someone to carry a gun to the firing range and shoot with the chief of police,” Jesse said.
Crow looked steadily at Jesse for a moment. Then he nodded once, took a Glock nine-millimeter off his hip, crouched slightly, and, holding the Glock in both hands, put six rounds into the center of the target. Jesse finished loading the Smith & Wesson, turned sideways, and, firing with one hand, put six rounds into the center of the target.
“We’re good,” Crow said.
“We are.”
“You fire like an old-time target shooter,” Crow said.
“My father taught me that,” Jesse said.
“Whatever works,” Crow said.
Jesse put the Smith & Wesson down, and took his little .38 Chief’s Special off his hip.
“You can hit the target with that thing?” Crow said.
“Sometimes,” Jesse said. He began to crank the target toward them. “Especially if it’s closer.”
“Most shooting is close,” Crow said.
“Yes,” Jesse said, and put three rounds into the middle of the target.
“You didn’t empty the weapon,” Crow said.
“Neither did you,” Jesse said.
“We’re careful,” Crow said.
“Got anything to tell me about Amber Francisco and friends?” Jesse said.
“Nothing I didn’t tell Officer Molly,” Crow said.
“And you got any thoughts on what we’re gonna do with her?” Jesse said.
“You’re the serve-and-protect guy,” Crow said.
“You can’t look out for her,” Jesse said.
“’Course not,” Crow said.
“You got any thoughts on who killed her mother?” Jesse said.
“Probably Esteban,” Crow said.
“Why?”
“Figure if he’s talking to her daddy about bringing her to Florida, he may have talked to her daddy about killing her mother.”
Jesse nodded.
“So why doesn’t she say so?”
“Scared?” Crow said.
“Probably,” Jesse said. “Loyal.”
“Loyal?” Crow said. “He sold her out.”
“She’s got nothing else,” Jesse said. “She can tell herself she loves him, and maybe convince herself that he loves her, she won’t feel so alone.”
“And this is better than going back to Daddy?” Crow said.
“Ap
parently.”
“He must be fun,” Crow said.
“So what’re your plans,” Jesse said.
“I’m considering my options,” Crow said.
“Would one of those be to get out of town?” Jesse said.
“Not yet,” Crow said.
“Why not,” Jesse said.
“Unfinished business,” Crow said.
“You want to see this through with the kid?”
“Something like that,” Crow said.
“Let’s not get in each other’s way,” Jesse said.
“Sure,” Crow said
Jesse put the .38 back on his hip and the .40 in a small gym bag with two boxes of ammunition.
“You gonna pick up the brass?” Crow said.
“No,” Jesse said.
“Great to be chief,” Crow said.
43.
Molly and Jesse were in the squad room, drinking coffee.
“I’m sorry, Jesse,” Molly said. “I can’t take her.”
“I know,” Jesse said.
“I have a husband and four kids. I can’t impose her on them.”
“I know,” Jesse said. “I guess I’ll have to take her.”
“Yourself?”
“Can’t have her living here,” Jesse said.
“You can’t bring a fourteen-year-old girl home to live with you, Jesse, alone.”
Jesse shrugged.
“I mean, what if she claims you molested her?” Molly said.
“I’ll claim I didn’t,” Jesse said.
“But even if you can prove you didn’t, that kind of thing will cling to you for life,” Molly said. “It’s not like this is a good kid. You can’t tell what she’ll do.”
“I know.”
“So, what about that female private detective you were dating?”
“Sunny Randall?”
“Yes. How about you get her to look after the kid.”
Jesse shook his head.
“That book is closed,” Jesse said. “Right now, I don’t want to open it again.”
“You cannot take her in alone,” Molly said. “What if she’s sick, what if…you just can’t be parenting a fourteen-year-old girl that’s not your daughter.”
“Got any ideas?” Jesse said.
“How about Human Services?”
“This is not just a runaway kid,” Jesse said. “Dangerous people are after her. You can’t ask some social worker to fight it out with the Horn Street Boys…or whoever her old man sends.”
“You think he’ll send someone?”
The Jesse Stone Novels 6-9 Page 27