Robert B. Parker's Colorblind

by Reed Farrel Coleman

  “You’re in no shape to walk, let alone take anyone out.”

  “My town. My call.”

  Lundquist was skeptical. “Let’s see you make it there first. You know he’ll be expecting something like this, right?”

  “We don’t have a choice.”

  Jesse got on the radio and ordered Molly to get the people away from the meetinghouse.

  “I don’t care who they are or what you’ve got to do, but get them as far away from that place as fast as you can. That’s an order, Molly. Get the auxiliaries to help.”

  Before she could question him, Jesse started barking orders at Peter Perkins and Gabe Weathers.

  “When I give you the word,” he said, “start firing at the shooter. If you take him out, fine, but I want as much lead thrown at that storefront as you and the rest can muster. Lundquist and I are going to be approaching from the opposite side of the street. Have someone keep eyes on us. Once we get close to his position, stop firing. When you’re done, clear out. Get away from the meetinghouse. All of you. That’s a direct order. No heroics today.” He turned to Lundquist. “Ready?”

  “You know, when I got Healy’s job I thought this kind of crap would be over forever, but I guess I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be.”

  Jesse keyed the mic. “Fire away.”

  Storefront glass shattered almost immediately, and the noise of all those nine-millimeters firing away was louder than Jesse thought it would be. As he and Lundquist made their way along Salter, Jesse hoped that Lee Harvey would be distracted and return fire, but Lundquist was right. Lee Harvey was expecting them to come for him, and Jesse had little doubt he would be better prepared for them than they were for him. He was definitely better armed.

  When he and Lundquist were past the storefront, Jesse took a few seconds to try and regain some strength. He lay facedown on the sidewalk, exhausted and sick. The shotgun was dangling over the curb in his right hand.

  “Can you see him?” he shouted to Lundquist above the gunfire.

  But before Lundquist could answer, the covering fire ceased. He got close to Jesse and said in a whisper, “I can do this. Give me the—”

  “No.” Jesse forced himself up, leaning against the car. “Move back that way until you’re directly across from him and start firing. Don’t wait, just fire. Here’s my nine so you won’t have to stop to reload.”

  “But—”

  “If I can’t get at him with the shotgun, my nine isn’t going to do me a bit of good.”

  Lundquist moved okay for a big man, though not as smoothly as Suit did. Lundquist did exactly what Jesse had asked him to do. He got into shooting position and began firing across the street at where Lee Harvey was holed up. Jesse could make out the soldier’s silhouette as he scrambled to the storefront two doors beyond Lee Harvey. He took two deep breaths and held the last one in for a good long time. Then it was go time.

  Jesse’s first shot took out the remainder of the glass behind Lee Harvey. Jesse winced in anticipation of Lee Harvey returning fire, but he didn’t hesitate and took a second shot at where he had seen Lee Harvey’s silhouette. There was a groan and a thud, but Jesse knew the soldier could be playing possum. He dropped down to a knee to make himself less of a target, his legs screaming at him in pain. He peeked through the now glassless storefronts. Lee Harvey was down, pressing a hand to his neck, blood gushing out between his fingers.

  Jesse waved to Lundquist to come, and they both rushed the position. Jesse kicked the M4 away from the soldier’s side. Lee Harvey had on ceramic-plated body armor, but some of the buckshot had torn through the exposed part of the soldier’s neck. As Jesse put his hands over Lee Harvey’s to help stanch the blood, Lundquist searched for more weapons.

  “Is there a bomb?” Jesse said. “Lee Harvey, is there a bomb? Where is it?”

  Lee Harvey smiled and said, “Too late. Tick, tick, tick.” He eyes went glassy and his body went limp.

  Lundquist got up and started toward the meetinghouse, but before Jesse could stop him, the world exploded and the statie was knocked to the ground by the blast wave. Shards of white clapboard and glass covered the street. Car alarms were set off for blocks around. The blast knocked Jesse off balance and his knees slid out from under him in Lee Harvey’s blood. His head bounced off the tiled floor of the store alcove and he fell into darkness.

  91

  It was dark but for the light of the monitors and because night filled every corner of his room’s window. Jesse recognized the sounds and smells of the hospital. He also recognized the pain in his head and the full-body ache. He hoped there were no more pressing emergencies in Paradise, because there wasn’t enough adrenaline in the world that could get him out of bed again. He moved his hand along the bed until he found the call button, and when he did, he held it down.

  “Chief Stone, is everything all right?” the nurse asked, taking his pulse. “Are you in distress?”

  “Other than everything hurting, no. How long have I been here?”

  “You were brought in last evening.”

  “Are any of my officers outside?”

  “First, let me get the doctor. Then we’ll see about visitors.”

  Jesse had the impulse but not the strength to argue.

  When the doctor was done examining Jesse, he told the nurse that she could send the officer in the waiting room in.

  “And, Chief Stone, let’s try not to yank the IV out of your arm or leave the hospital this time,” the doctor said to Jesse. “You are worse for wear, and brain trauma is nothing to be ignored. I’m not sure how you managed to walk out of here the last time.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Doc. Scout’s honor. Were there any serious injuries from the explosion?”

  “Cuts from flying glass, some tinnitus from the blast, but nothing too serious.”

  “Was anyone in the meetinghouse—”

  “I’ll let Officer Crane give you the details. Remember, Chief Stone, no more stunts or I can’t promise you won’t do permanent damage to yourself.”

  There might have been times when Jesse was happier to see Molly, but he couldn’t recall them at the moment. And when she entered the room, Molly did something very un-Molly-like. She leaned over, kissed Jesse on the forehead, and hugged him as best she could. There were tears in her eyes.

  “Just what the hell did you think you were doing?” she said to him as she wiped away the tears. “You could have been killed.”

  “That’s the Molly Crane I know.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Jesse. That was a suicide mission.”

  “I wanted you to worry about being chief again.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “I hate you.”

  “You love me, Crane.”

  “That’s why I hate you.”

  “So did Suit get everyone down into the tunnel?”

  “Thank goodness for the Underground Railroad. Everyone came out okay—physically, at least. A few of the people were pretty traumatized.”

  “Suit?”

  “He’s Suit. He’s fine.”

  “Don’t ever tell him this, Molly, but he’s a hero. He went back in there even though I told him there was probably a bomb.”

  “Suit would do anything for you, Jesse. You know that.”

  “This was different. He’s married now. He did it because he’s a good cop. How does Pilgrim Cove look?”

  Molly laughed. “Like a bomb hit it.”

  When Jesse laughed, nausea welled up in him and it was all he could do not to be sick. When he collected himself, he asked about the arrests.

  “The staties caught Vandercamp at the New York border. He had the gun on him just like James Earl said he would. It was loaded with blanks just like he said on the voice recording, but Lundquist isn’t sure there’s any way to physically tie it to what happened on Newton Alley.”
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  “Is Vandercamp talking?”

  “Claims it’s a conspiracy to kill his children and put an end to his attempts to save the country.”

  “No surprise there. What’s Weld say about Alisha?”

  Molly smiled. “The DA is withdrawing the charges against her.”

  “You know I’m still going to have to fire her?”

  Molly nodded.

  “Drake Daniels?”

  “He copped to a lesser charge. Lundquist said you had it about right. The idea was only to rough up Felicity Wileford as part of the scheme to shake up everyone in the area. John Wilkes was in charge, but once Wileford put up a fight, Garrison got carried away and beat her. It was Daniels’s idea to try to make it look like a copycat thing. When they searched Garrison’s house, they found a private armory, a collection of Nazi paraphernalia, racist literature, and child porn.”

  “You know you’re acting chief again until I get out of here.”

  “Don’t remind me. Is there anything else, Jesse? Anyone you want to see?”

  “I need you to get a photo from my room at home and bring it here tomorrow morning. And I’d like to see Suit and Cole Slayton. He’s living in my condo and working at Daisy’s.”

  Molly gave Jesse an odd look. “Why is he—”

  “I’ve got my reasons.”

  “Okay, Jesse.” She leaned over him and kissed his forehead again. “Next time you pull something like that, you better get killed. Because if they don’t kill you, I will.”

  “I love you, too, Crane.”

  92

  Cole Slayton and Suit walked into Jesse’s room at six p.m. the next day. Jesse wasn’t feeling a whole lot better. And the extra day had given his bruises time to mature, so he looked even worse. He’d avoided the mirror all day, but the expression on Suit’s face told him he was in bad shape. Even Cole Slayton seemed shocked at the sight of him.

  “Cole, could you give Officer Simpson and me a minute?”

  The kid shrugged and left the room.

  “Holy sh— cow, you all right? You look awful.”

  Jesse laughed. “I feel worse than I look.”

  Suit got that goofy smile on his face. “Then I don’t know how you’re still breathing. I’ve seen corpses look better than you.”

  “Come over here, Suit.”

  When Suit approached the bed, Jesse put out his right hand. As Suit shook it, Jesse said, “I’ve known a lot of brave people in my life, but none braver than you, Luther Simpson.”

  “I’m not brave, Jesse, just dumb.”

  “You can’t fool me, Suit. You knew what you were risking and you were scared, but you did it because it was the right thing to do and it was your duty. That’s not stupidity. That’s courage.”

  “Elena’s not talking to me.”

  “It won’t last.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Suit, thank you. You did good. Now do me a favor and send the kid in.”

  “About him. What’s the deal?”

  “That’s between him and me.”

  “Okay, Jesse.”

  * * *

  —

  WHEN COLE SLAYTON WALKED BACK into the room, Jesse was holding the photograph of Celine in his lap so that it was facing out.

  Cole’s face reddened. “Hey, who told you you could go through my things? Just because—”

  “This is my copy,” Jesse said, and then explained about how Connor Cavanaugh had seen the photo in Cole’s room at the hotel. “Connor wasn’t prying, but he had to pack up your stuff and thought it was weird that you were carrying around a photo with me in it. If you were in his position, you would think so, too.”

  “I guess.”

  “Celine was your mom?”

  Cole looked angry and pleased all at once. “You remember her name?”

  “I remember more than her name. She was great.”

  “If she was so great, why’d you break up with her?”

  Jesse didn’t answer directly. “You know there’s been a lot going on in town since you got here?”

  “I’m not blind. Yeah, I’ve been paying attention.”

  “So I’ve been occupied with that, but I was also wondering why you were carrying around a photo of me and your mom from so long ago. I meant to ask you about it, but you were either sleeping or at work before we could talk.”

  “You didn’t answer me about why you broke up with her.”

  “That’s just it, Cole. I didn’t break up with her. She broke up with me.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “No, it’s not. Lying here, I’ve had time to think about it and to remember. We went away for a weekend on Catalina Island and your mom made a big thing about dinner on Saturday night. She booked us at a nice restaurant and got really dressed up. That wasn’t usually her style or mine, but it seemed important to her. Things went sour right away because there was a family with young kids at the next table and I guess I said some stuff about never wanting to get married or have kids. She barely spoke during dinner, and when I woke up the next morning she was gone.”

  “Get outta here.”

  “When I got home and called her, she said she realized that there was no future for us and that it was stupid for us to continue seeing each other. That’s the truth. Believing it or not, that is up to you.”

  Cole was angry. “You didn’t think to ask her why she changed her mind so fast?”

  “I took her at her word. She was right. I didn’t want to get married and I didn’t want kids. Now I realize what that dinner was all about. She was pregnant and she wanted to tell me.”

  “With me, yeah.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me after you were born? I would have done the right thing.”

  Cole laughed. “That’s funny. That’s what Mom always said about you. That you always made a big deal about doing the right thing. And just so you know, she did try to tell you, but you were married by then to some blond woman and she didn’t want to screw up your life.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “About me?”

  “Never. I want to be your father . . . if you’ll let me.” Jesse put out his right hand.

  “You don’t want to take a DNA test and make me prove it?”

  Jesse shook his head. “Only if you want one. From what I hear, fathers and sons need to trust each other.”

  Cole took Jesse’s hand and squeezed it with two-decades-plus of longing and anger. For Jesse’s part, it was all he could do not to cry.

  93

  A month later, and much to Molly’s relief, Jesse was back at work. All the windows in the Pilgrim Cove area had been replaced, all the glass and debris swept up and forgotten, but the damage had been done and there were some scars that could not be hidden. Mayor Walker and her allies wanted to have the old meetinghouse meticulously reconstructed, while the selectmen thought it might serve a higher purpose to leave it as it was: as a shrine to how far we had come and how far we still had to go.

  So it was with no small amount of irony and awkwardness that the mayor showed up at the station as he was in the process of taking Alisha Davis’s badge and gun.

  “Ask her to wait,” Jesse said to Molly.

  When Molly closed the door, Jesse turned to Alisha and Dylan Taylor. He looked straight at Alisha. “You were a good cop, Alisha, and I don’t regret my decision to hire you for a second.”

  “Thank you for believing in me, Jesse.”

  “I still believe in you, but you know how it’s got to be. Even though you’ve been cleared in Vandercamp’s death—”

  “I know. I’m going now.” She shook Jesse’s hand and started for the door, Dylan walking behind her.

  Jesse called after Dylan, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Go on,” Alisha said. “I’ll be outside in the car.”


  Jesse gestured for Dylan to sit.

  “When I was in the hospital, I had a lot of time to think about things.”

  Dylan shrugged. “Things like what?”

  “It bothered me almost from the minute I heard Lee Harvey Vandercamp had tried to take out Daniels and Garrison. Then when I heard the slug the staties dug out of Garrison’s wall was from a Ruger bolt-action deer rifle . . . You know the staties never found any hunting rifles in his Jeep or in any of the Vandercamps’ possession. Besides, long distance wasn’t Lee Harvey’s MO. He killed close-up and personal, and he didn’t usually miss.”

  Dylan shrugged again. “What about the M4 and the bomb? Those weren’t close-up-and-personal weapons.”

  “Good point. Just the same, I’d lose that Ruger of yours you keep above the fireplace in your cottage.”

  “Funny you should say that, Jesse. Last time I saw it, it was sinking into the Atlantic.”

  “What about you and Alisha?”

  “I’m driving her home to New York, but I don’t think there is a me and Alisha anymore, not really. This thing strained both of us past our breaking points.”

  “Drive safe. See you when you get back.”

  It rubbed Jesse hard in the wrong direction that the Vandercamps had gotten even a small victory out of their violence and hatred, but he understood the enormous strain Alisha and Dylan had been under.

  * * *

  —

  GIVEN THAT HE HAD JUST taken the badge and gun away from Alisha, Jesse wasn’t really much in the mood for dealing with Connie Walker’s political gamesmanship. But she had been pretty stout through the recent ordeal and had never retreated from her support of his hiring Alisha.

  “What is it, Connie? I hope this isn’t about the old meetinghouse. Those decisions are above my pay grade.”

  “You really can be an ass, can’t you, Jesse?”

  “Uh-huh.”