He wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “But why are you doing this for me?”
“Because, just like you,” Jesse said, “I don’t abandon people.”
Cole sneered at Jesse again, this time with genuine anger in his face. But he didn’t give it voice. “I’ve got to get back.”
The kid turned and left Jesse standing in the alley. He was no less confused about Cole Slayton now than he had been the day he met him in the cell at the station.
* * *
—
AT THE STATION, Molly told him that Suit and Gabe had agreed to meet.
“Did they ask any questions?”
“Only where. They trust you, Jesse. I trust you.”
“Tamara and I used to eat at that chain place on the highway.”
Molly smiled. “The place with the two-fers and the all-you-can-eat soup and salad?”
“Uh-huh.”
“We used to take the girls there when they were little. It’s not cool enough for them anymore.”
“Tell them to meet there around eight.”
“Okay.”
Back in his office, Jesse made two more calls. To do what he had in mind, he would need more help than Molly, Suit, and Gabe. Even if they all agreed to be a part of it, he wasn’t sure they would be enough. But he didn’t see that he had much choice.
54
The soldier had been careful to stay out of the area since the night of the shooting. It was just as well, because he still couldn’t wrap his head around what he had been told to do and what he had done. That was the thing about being a good soldier: You follow your orders, even the stupid ones or the ones you know you’ll have to answer for on Judgment Day. It’s the price you pay afterward, once things settle in, that cost you. It’s the time you spend asking yourself the questions about what can’t be undone, the hauntings when you close your eyes or when you open them and there is only darkness. He had seen a lot of darkness in his time and now he used it as cover to approach the place the Colonel was staying at.
There weren’t any cops around. He’d checked the perimeter, but he wasn’t so much worried about the law as he was about one of the Colonel’s people. A lot of them, like a lot of the people he’d served with, were good people and true believers, but true belief didn’t make you smart or capable. And the last thing he needed was for one of these people to give him away. As far as he knew, only the Colonel was aware of his presence and what he’d done. The rest of them believed exactly what they were led to believe, that John W. had been shot down in cold blood. For a lot of reasons, he wanted it to stay that way, especially that last part. If he had his way, he’d take what he’d done to the grave with him. And on the night of the shooting, he was tempted to get to the grave sooner rather than later. There were times he had felt that way in Iraq and Afghanistan, too, but it had never been as powerful a calling as it was on that night. The wound of it was still fresh enough that he could swear parts of him were missing.
As he’d been instructed to do, he went around to the back of the house. But before he approached, he scanned the area one final time. He stepped out of the woods and walked the fifty paces up to the rear deck. The back door was open. He stepped in and eased the door closed. Stepped into the first bedroom on his right.
Leon Vandercamp stood up out of his chair, came to the soldier, and threw his arms around him. He held the embrace for a good long time.
“Well done, son. Well done.”
But the soldier was preoccupied by the man splayed out on the bed, snoring.
“Don’t worry about him,” said the Colonel. “James Earl is passed out as always. He is a never-ending source of disappointment to me. But he is my flesh and blood.”
“No offense, sir, but John W. was your flesh and blood, too.”
“What is the value of a crusade if you’re not willing to make great sacrifices to achieve the righteous ends? You, of all men, should understand that. How many mothers’ sons did you witness being slaughtered by those heathen mongrels? If I had sacrificed James Earl, who would have cared? I’m not sure even his mother would have blinked. He was always a disappointment to her as well.”
“How is John W.’s mother taking it?”
“About how you would expect. She’ll be arriving here tomorrow.”
“Does she know that—”
“What she knows or doesn’t know isn’t your concern, son. The cause, our cause, is what matters here. Just know that I am pleased with how you handled yourself. I could not be prouder of how you have conducted yourself under terrible duress.” Leon Vandercamp placed his hand on the soldier’s shoulder but stared down at James Earl. “Why does God burden us so?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Vandercamp’s face hardened and he took his hand off the soldier. “I wasn’t really asking you for the answer. You’re good and you’re loyal, but metaphysics has never been your strong suit.”
“No, sir.”
“I’m sorry, son. That was uncalled for.”
The soldier moved on. “Why am I here, sir?”
“Did you take care of that other business?”
“The landscaper? Yes, sir.”
“Will they find his body?”
The soldier shook his head.
“Good. There may be one or two others who will have to go.”
“One or two?” the soldier asked.
Vandercamp lowered his voice to a whisper. “Keep an eye on the people who own this house. You know where their business is located?”
“I do.”
“That’s right. Of course you do,” Vandercamp said.
“Have they given you any trouble, sir?”
“Loose ends. They’re loose ends.”
“Sir, I know it’s not my place to question your orders, but—”
Vandercamp slapped the soldier across the face so hard James Earl stirred from the sound of it.
“You’ll do as I tell you. The one time you disobeyed me nearly destroyed us, but you did what you did and now you have certain skills. Now you’ll use them when I tell you to.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you built the explosive device?”
“Sir, I have not.”
“What are you waiting for? I sincerely hope you’re not going to disobey me?”
“No, sir,” the soldier lied. He had seen the carnage that IEDs and suicide bombs could do to the human body and had hoped the Colonel would reconsider. Apparently, his hopes had been in vain.
“Okay, then, you have your orders. If they have any contact with the law, I want to know about it immediately. And, son . . .”
“Yes, sir.”
“Build it.”
The soldier saluted, turned on his heel, and left.
James Earl, still groggy said, “Was that—”
“Go back to sleep, James Earl. He’s none of your concern and I’m really not in the mood for you, not tonight.”
55
The restaurant was pretty slow, but Jesse asked the manager if he could use the party room.
“Sure,” she said. “We’ve got nothing booked for tonight. We haven’t seen you or your girlfriend around lately.”
Jesse didn’t bother to explain that Tamara hadn’t been his girlfriend, nor that she had moved down to Austin to work for the Travis County Medical Examiner. Sometimes explanations led to more questions, and Jesse wasn’t up for awkward conversation.
“Having your usual while you wait?” the manager asked as Jesse headed to the back of the restaurant. “Black Label rocks, right?”
“No, thanks. Just a club soda and lime for me.”
They drifted into the room one at a time after Jesse: Molly first, Gabe, then Suit. The four of them sat pretty quietly until Healy and then Dylan Taylor showed up. Jesse told them to order drinks if they wanted to a
nd that he had ordered appetizers. But once the appetizers and drinks were delivered and the small talk gotten out of the way, Jesse asked the server not to come back in until he went to get her.
“This about Alisha, Jesse?” Suit asked. Somebody had to.
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t think his answer came as a surprise to anyone.
“What about her?” Gabe Weathers wanted to know. “I don’t think she would do what they’re saying she did.”
“I don’t know,” Suit said. “I don’t want to believe it, either, but I was there and there was no gun. I also took witness statements.”
“You’re just pissed at her for the way she acted when we showed up at the Scupper and she pushed back,” Gabe said.
“Bull, Gabe. I’m telling you that unless his gun grew wings and flew away, John Vandercamp didn’t have a gun.”
“Enough,” Jesse said. “Before I say another word, I need something from the three of you,” Jesse said, pointing at his three cops. “You’ll be risking the most out of any of us.”
Molly spoke first. “What do you need from us?”
“Either walk out of here right now or promise to keep quiet about this unless you are asked about it under oath. Even if you decide not to help, make that promise now or leave.”
Gabe, Suit, and Molly stared at one another, then nodded. None of them got up.
Suit spoke for all of them. “You have our word.”
Jesse laid out the case against Alisha the way Monty Bernstein had laid it out for Jesse. Their expressions grew less hopeful as he spoke.
“That’s about it,” he said when he was finished.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Dylan Taylor, who was basically a stranger to everyone there but Jesse, spoke. “Don’t you think it’s pretty convenient that John Vandercamp just happened to go to a shooting range only a few hours before he was killed?”
Captain Healy, who was now retired for about a year, stood up and came around by Jesse.
“Convenience doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he said, pointing at the others, who remained seated. “I worked more homicides than all of you combined. I worked more of them than Jesse. But there are way too many coincidences in this case for me to accept. It’s a perfect storm.”
Gabe said, “I don’t like it, but Suit’s right, there’s no gun. And one thing you’ve said to me from the minute you hired me was that we followed the evidence on the PPD, not hunches.”
“None was found,” Jesse said. “That’s different than there was no gun.”
Molly was skeptical. “But how is it different? Two plus two or six minus two, you get the same result.”
Dylan spoke again. “And what, this guy who just happened to go shooting also just happened to magically appear out of nowhere right in front of Alisha as she came out of the Gull? C’mon. It’s a setup.”
“It sounds like a setup, but the staties aren’t in the business of proving it’s a setup,” Jesse said. “They are following the evidence, and the evidence makes Alisha look guilty as hell.”
Healy agreed. “Mary Weld’s an excellent detective, but she’s not looking for exculpatory evidence. Her case is pretty damned good, and when the rest of the forensics come back, I think it will be rock-solid.”
“Then what are we here for?” Suit asked.
“Mary Weld’s job may not be to look for exculpatory evidence or to prove it was a setup, but it can be our job,” Jesse said. “I’m not going to lie to you. Even if we somehow find the gun or mitigating evidence, Alisha is probably done as a cop. So this isn’t about saving her job. It’s about keeping her out of prison. I know Healy and Dylan are in. But the three of us aren’t enough. If you need a minute, we can step—”
“I’m in,” Molly said.
Gabe was next. “Me also.”
Everyone turned to Suit.
“You don’t see me going anywhere, do you? But what are we supposed to do to help?”
“Mostly surveillance,” Jesse said.
Molly raised her eyebrow. “Mostly?”
“The other stuff will be handled by Healy, Dylan, and me. And no texting or e-mails. Calls only, and no messages with details.”
Gabe asked, “When do we start?”
Jesse smiled. “We just did.”
56
Jesse got to his condo before Cole, and seeing all the boxes, ninety percent of them still untouched since he moved in, made him realize just how little time he’d spent there alone and awake. In fact, he had spent very little time alone since rehab. He had never feared being alone. In spite of Jenn, Diana, and all the other women who had been in his life, Jesse liked to think he was at his best on his own. It was that self-contained thing Molly always talked about. But in rehab he had been warned over and over again about the dangers of time alone and had been counseled to find ways to fill up the empty hours he used to spend fantasizing about drinking, anticipating the rituals of drinking, and drinking itself.
His condo was still a mess. The floors and his furniture were piled high with boxes. He walked through the maze of cardboard, trying to figure out what things were in which boxes. He hadn’t been around to pack up his stuff and had paid someone to do it for him. The boxes were labeled, but not specifically enough for him to find exactly what he needed to make up the guest bed. He hadn’t even fully done up his own bedroom. Since his return, he’d been living out of his duffel and suitcase like a traveling salesman. The one thing he had managed to hang in his living room was his framed poster of his old drinking buddy, Hall of Fame shortstop Ozzie Smith. Other than his job, there had been only two constants in Jesse’s life: drinking and the silent Wizard of Oz. Now it was down to Ozzie.
Jesse checked his watch and worked out the timing. Even if he found all the stuff he needed in the next five minutes, it was still way too late to get to a meeting. Boston was out of the question, and the close-by meetings were almost done at this point. He guessed he could call Bill, then realized Bill was probably at the meeting at the church. It wasn’t so much that he felt like drinking, but he could feel himself missing the rituals that surrounded it. He remembered, with a smile, how at the end of his day he used to start thinking about getting back to the house. How during his traditional drive through town, he would rehearse the rituals in his head. Somehow, the anticipation of the drink made the drink taste that much better. As he stood there, he could almost taste the Black Label on his tongue, feel it going down, but his reverie was disturbed by the sound of his front door lock turning.
As Cole Slayton came through the door, several emotions crossed his face before he lapsed into his usual disdainful expression. But unlike when they’d first met, Cole couldn’t keep that look for long. Although it had been only several days since he’d met Jesse, there had been a softening in him. That first day, the disdain was palpable and it seemed to come easily and naturally. Now Cole seemed to have to work at it, almost as if keeping with some vow he had taken or promise he had made to himself. What Jesse couldn’t figure out was whether Cole’s attitude was a general dislike of authority or if it was specific to him. Maybe it was both.
Jesse had met a lot of people over the course of his life who carried rage around inside them like the molten core at the center of the earth. And not all of them were people he’d met as a cop. He’d come across many of them during his time in the minors. Some matured and got past it. Some used it to fuel their competitiveness. Those men, the ones fueled by their rage, the ones who could never let it go, were the men afraid of who they might be if they didn’t have the rage anymore. He understood them better now than he had ever understood them before. Jesse wasn’t sure who he would be if he stayed sober.
“I didn’t think you’d be here before me,” Cole said.
“Neither did I, but I didn’t have time to make your bed.”
“Just give me the sheets and stuff. I’ll do it
.”
Jesse laughed, “I was trying to find that stuff when you came in.”
“This place is a mess.”
“I haven’t gotten around to unpacking.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s been a little crazy in town.” Cole noticed the Ozzie poster. “What’s with the poster?”
“Do you know who that is?”
Cole’s face hardened again. “I know who Ozzie Smith is. But why do you have a poster of him on your living room wall? I mean, there’s nothing hung up except that. You got your favorite rock-star poster in your bedroom?”
“Funny.”
“No, really, what’s with the poster?”
“He was the best at what he did,” Jesse said.
“I don’t get it. You think he has a Jesse Stone poster up on his wall?”
“He’s a reminder to me.”
“Of what?”
“Of a lot of things.”
“Like . . .”
“To be who I am.”
“You ever give a straight answer?”
“I was a very good shortstop, but I could never play it the way Ozzie did. I had a great arm and good hands, but he was like an acrobat or a ballet dancer. I used to dream about playing against him, but I never got the chance.”
Cole said, “That would frustrate me, having him up there like that, reminding me.”
“My relationship with that poster is complicated.”
“Whatever.” Cole waved his hand dismissively. “You gonna give me the house rules now?”
“You consider yourself a grown man?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I don’t have to give you rules. C’mon, let’s find you some bedding.”
57
When they finally had Cole’s bed made up, the place looked like even more of a mess. Jesse asked if Cole wanted something to eat.
Robert B. Parker's Colorblind Page 17