Mrs. Pennington opened her mouth, then closed it, and clamped her lips and sat back in her chair and folded her arms.
Pennington turned in his chair and looked at Jesse. He had very
pale blue eyes.
“I know the kind of pressure you must be under now,” he said.
“And I appreciate your taking the time for this.”
“Candace has always known who raped her,”
Jesse said. “But she
and I agreed that if she blew the whistle on them, uncorroborated, we might not get them, and her life in Paradise would be ruined.”
Pennington nodded.
“They were going to show my picture to everyone,” Candace
said.
Pennington nodded again. He showed no emotion, though Jesse noted that the knuckles on his clasped hands looked white.
“Now they probably won’t,” he
said.
He looked at Jesse.
“No,” Jesse said. “They
won’t. They’re scared.”
“Good,” Candace said.
Jesse nodded slowly.
“And they’re scared of you,”
Jesse said.
Candace looked at Jesse, then at her father, and then, more covertly, at her mother.
“Excellent,” she said.
“The law always talks about justice,”
Jesse said. “We’re
officially in favor of it. But if I were you what I would want would be revenge.”
“Chief Stone …” Mrs. Pennington
said.
Her husband shook his head at her.
“That’s what I would like,” he
said.
“Okay,” Jesse said. “Marino,
Feeney and Drake have incriminated
themselves. If we didn’t know anything about you the pictures would
have led us to you.”
Candace nodded. She understood.
“So we need a statement,” Jesse said.
“And if we go to court
we’ll need you to testify.”
“Will anyone else see those pictures?”
Candace
said.
“If we go to trial,” Jesse said,
“the defense will argue that
you were a willing participant and made up the rape story. The pictures would be evidence to the contrary.”
“My God, naked pictures of my daughter,”
Mrs. Pennington said.
“In public. I won’t permit it.”
“We’re a long way past propriety here, Margaret. It’s Candace’s
decision.”
“She’s not old enough to decide something like this,” Mrs.
Pennington said.
“I’ll give a statement,” Candace
said. “And I’ll testify if I
have to.”
“Candace …”
“Good,” Jesse said. “Is there
someplace you can go and give
Molly your statement?”
“They can use the kitchen,” Pennington said.
As she followed Candace from the room, Molly smiled at Jesse, and, shielding the gesture with her body, gave him a thumbs-up.
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Jesse looked through the big window at the brisk gray ocean.
“Kids like Candace,” Jesse said, still looking at the ocean,
“often need some therapy after an experience like this one.”
“You mean from a psychiatrist?” Mrs.
Pennington
said.
“Yes,” Jesse said. “If you need
a referral I can get one for
you.”
Mrs. Pennington looked at her husband.
“We’ll see,” he said.
“Thanks for the offer.”
“As far as the case goes,” Resnick said, after a moment, “a plea
bargain would certainly seem possible.”
“Be up to the defense lawyers and the DA,”
Jesse
said.
“But you agree that it could happen?” Mrs.
Pennington
said.
“It often does,” Jesse said.
38
“We had sex an hour before she
died,” Jesse
said.
Dix nodded.
“I’m sad,” Jesse said.
Dix tilted his head slightly.
“I’m the chief of police and I’m
trying to catch these bastards
and they shoot a woman I just made love to.”
“You think it was intentional?” Dix said.
“I don’t know,” Jesse said.
“But it makes me
mad.”
“And you think it was more than one
person?” Dix
said.
“Yes. The two guns don’t make any sense to me
otherwise.”
Dix was wearing a blue blazer today, and a white shirt.
Everything about him gleamed. His shaved head, his starched shirt, his thick-soled mahogany shoes. He sat with his hands laced over his flat stomach, rubbing the tips of his thumbs together.
“Jenn called me after Abby was killed,”
Jesse said. “And said
she hoped I was okay.”
Dix waited, moving the tips of his thumbs softly back and forth.
“Then she said she wanted me to give her special access to the
sniper killing, her and a cameraman, inside coverage, follow the whole investigation.”
Dix nodded encouragingly.
“Four people die, and she sees it as a career opportunity.”
“Why would she think you’d allow
that?” Dix said.
Jesse smiled without humor.
“Because she is the, ah, object of my affections,” he
said.
“Object?”
“Just being amusing,” Jesse said.
Dix didn’t say anything. They were quiet. The room shimmered
with stillness. Jesse took in some air. His movements were stiff.
Dix waited. He seemed perfectly comfortable waiting. Jesse’s stiffness loosened.
“She said once,” Jesse’s voice
was hoarse, “that what I really
love is my fantasy of her, and I keep trying to squeeze her into it.”
“What did you say?”
“I said it was fucking shrink talk.”
Dix grinned.
“The object of your affection,” Dix said.
“More fucking shrink talk,” Jesse said.
Dix smiled.
“Sure,” he said. “I am, after
all, a fucking
shrink.”
39
There were too many of them for Jesse’s office, so they went to
the conference room in the station. Jesse was there, at the head of the conference table. Beside him sat an Essex County assistant district attorney named Martin Reagan. Molly and Suitcase Simpson stood against the wall. Bo Marino and his parents sat on one side of the table. Troy Drake and his mother sat on the other side. Two lawyers from a big Boston firm representing both families sat at the end of the table opposite Jesse. The lead attorney was a sleek red-haired woman named Rita Fiore. The other lawyer was a small man with a narrow face and a graying Vandyke beard. His name was Barry Feldman.
“Here’s what we got,” Jesse
said. “Or at least all of it I can
remember. There’s so much that Marty may have to remind me.”
Rita smiled.
“So we begin,” she said.
“We have a sworn statement from Kevin Feeney that he and Bo
Marino and Troy Drake raped Candace Pennington and photographed her naked.”
“I understand that he is clearly identifiable in the pictures,”
Rita said.
“He is,” Jesse said.
“How stalwart of him to admit it,” Rita said.
“We have Candace Pennington’s sworn
statement that Kevin Feeney,
Bo Marino, and Troy Drake raped her and photographed her naked.”
“Hardly a disinterested observer,” Rita said.
Martin Reagan said, “Rita, let’s wait until we get into court to
try the case. We simply want to question the suspects, and they simply wanted their attorney present.”
“Which would be me,” Rita said. She
glanced at Feldman beside
her, “and of course Barry.”
“Barry Feldman,” the other lawyer said.
Jesse nodded. He looked at Troy Drake.
“You got anything you want to say, Troy?”
Troy Drake was very blond with a full-lipped sulky mouth that made him look vaguely like Carly Simon. His mother was as blond as he was, and had the same sulky mouth.
“I’ve advised my clients not to discuss the case,” Rita
said.
Feldman nodded.
“You all planning to take her advice?”
Jesse
said.
No one at the table spoke.
“Okay,” Jesse said. “These
officers will read you your rights
and escort you to your cell.”
“You already arrested me and I got released to my old man,” Bo
said.
“That was for a different crime,” Jesse said. “This is a new
arrest.”
“Can they do this?” Mrs. Drake said.
“I’ll have them out in a few
hours,” Rita said.
“I’m going to ask for remand,”
Reagan said.
“Marty, don’t be ridiculous,”
Rita said. “These are
children.”
“So is Candace Pennington,” Reagan said.
“They can’t put my son in jail,”
Mrs. Drake said. “I know he
didn’t do anything.”
Mrs. Marino was crying. Mr. Marino was red-faced.
“You better keep my kid out of jail,” he said to
Rita.
“Mr. Marino,” Rita said. “I am
the chief criminal litigator at
Cone Oakes and Belding. I’m about as good as it gets. You don’t
frighten me. Nothing does, and it is not in your best interest to annoy me.”
Marino looked startled.
“The boys may have to spend the night in jail, but we can get
them in front of a judge tomorrow and get them released on bail. I am confident that I can forestall a remand.”
“What’s a remand,” Mrs. Drake
said.
“Remand to jail to await trial.”
“My God, is that what’s going to happen now?”
“No. It won’t happen at all. But now the police will hold your
son until tomorrow when we can get them before a magistrate.”
“They’re children. They can’t
have to be thrown in with the
general prison population,” Mrs. Drake said.
“We’ll hold them here,” Jesse
said. “It’s a four-cell lockup.
They will be the general prison population.”
“This is crap,” Troy said.
His mother put her hand on his arm. Jesse could tell that neither Troy nor Bo Marino liked the talk about them being children.
“You got that right,” Bo said.
“That little wimp prick is
lying.”
“Please be quiet,” Rita said to both boys.
“The wimp prick being Feeney?” Jesse said.
“Sure. You got him and the fucking baby says whatever you want
him to, so he can get off.”
“And Candace?” Jesse said.
“Bitch would say anything to get me in trouble,” Troy said.
“She’s been hot for me since ninth grade, and I won’t give her a
nod.”
“Is she hot for Bo, too?” Jesse said.
“Be quiet,” Rita said to both boys.
“Let ‘em talk, lady,” Joe Marino
said. “Somebody’s trying to
frame my kid and you’re telling him not to say anything?”
“They’re not doing themselves any
good,” Rita
said.
“She hot for Bo?” Jesse said to Troy.
“I don’t know. Maybe Bo did her for all I know, him and Kevin
was always talking about doing this broad and that one.”
“You cocksucker,” Bo said.
Mrs. Marino paused in her crying long enough to say,
“Bo!”
No one paid any attention.
“So maybe they did her,” Troy said,
“and the bitch thought when
she got them she could throw me in there and get even.”
“Shut up.” Rita’s voice was
sharp in the room.
But the genie was out of the bottle.
“So why did Kevin name you as well,” Jesse said.
“Fucking loser,” Troy said.
“He’s always sucking up to
Bo.”
Rita’s hand slammed flat on the tabletop and her voice was like
a blade.
“Shut fucking up,” she said.
Everyone looked at her. The room was suddenly still except for Mrs. Marino’s crying. Joe Marino made a cool it gesture at his son.
Mrs. Drake squeezed Troy’s hand as hard as she could.
“You keep talking and you’ll talk
yourselves right into a mess I
can’t get you out of. Do you understand me?”
No one said anything. Bo and Troy looked suddenly scared.
“Good,” Rita said. “You will
talk to no one unless I’m present,
or Barry. You will say nothing unless I say to, or Barry.”
“Rita,” Marty Reagan said. “This
doesn’t look like one for all
and all for one.”
“I know,” Rita said.
She looked at her clients.
“What Mr. Reagan means is that I can’t represent clients in
circumstances where the best interest of one might collide with the best interests of the other.”
Both families looked a little blank. But she had frightened them
enough to make them docile.
“So,” she said. “Let them stay
here tonight. Tomorrow Barry or
I, it will probably be Barry, will get them out on bail, and then we’ll organize your legal representation.”
“You can’t pull out on us now,”
Joe Marino said.
“I can’t represent both of the
boys,” Rita said.
“So let him represent Troy,” Marino said.
“Same firm, Mr. Marino. I’ll see to it that you are both well
represented, but this is not the place, and now is not the time.”
She turned and nodded very slightly to Jesse.
“Okay, Molly,” Jesse said. “You
and Suit read the words and take
them down to a cell.”
Mrs. Marino’s crying rose to a wail. Both Bo and Troy looked as
if they had trouble swallowing. Joe Marino started to argue. Mrs.
Drake seemed frozen in place. Molly said the Miranda for both of them and she and Simpson took them from the room. Their parents went with them.
“Checking the accommodations,” Reagan said when they were
gone.
Rita Fiore said, “When are you going to arraign them,
Marty?”
“You should have them there at nine A.M.,”
Reagan
said.
“Salem?”
“Yep.”
“Can you take care of that, Barry?”
Feldman nodded and made a small entry in his notebook.
“Now,” Rita said. “In the event
that I’m still representing
someone in this cluster fuck, it seems to me like there are deals to be made.”
“Let’s permit the dust to
settle,” Reagan said, “before we start bargaining.”
“Just as long as you see what I see,” Rita said.
Reagan smiled, and got to his feet.
“We done here?” he said.
Jesse nodded. So did Rita.
“Barry,” Rita said.
“I’ll be along in a little while. Why don’t
you get the car warmed up.”
Feldman stowed the notebook in his inside pocket and stood and picked up his briefcase.
“Nice meeting you all,” he said.
“I’ll walk you to your car,”
Reagan said, and both men
left.
40
Rita stood and came down the length of the table and sat on the
edge of it near Jesse. Jesse understood that she was letting him get a look at her. She knew she was very good-looking.
“I did a little background research,” Rita said.
“Thorough,” Jesse said.
“I am very thorough,” Rita said.
“I also have the resources of a
huge law firm.”
“Fortunate,” Jesse said.
Rita smiled.
“Try not to babble,” she said.
“Hard,” Jesse said.
Rita smiled and nodded.
“You were a homicide detective in Los Angeles,” Rita said.
“Captain Cronjager out there says you were very good.”
Jesse nodded.
“But your marriage went south and you had a drinking problem.”
Jesse nodded again.
“How’s your marriage?” she said.
“South,” Jesse said.
Rita smiled.
“And the drinking?”
“Better.”
“My paralegal talked with the state police homicide commander,”
Rita said.
“Healy,” Jesse said.
“Usually you get into one of these suburban towns and they have
a homicide, the state police take over the investigation pretty quickly.”
Jesse nodded.
“Healy says it’s not the case
here.”
“We do as much as we can in-house,” Jesse said.
“Healy says you know what you’re
doing.”
“I do,” Jesse said.
“I also know,” Rita said, “like