‘Yeah, I figured,’ the woman replied, smoothing her dyed-red hair with dyed-red fingernails. She was pudgy and short, and she wore a form-fitting Twins T-shirt with jean shorts. ‘What’s up?’
‘We just have a couple questions for you. May we come inside?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
She waved them into her living room. A game show blared from the television. The room smelled of beer. So did Jessie’s breath. Stride saw the kitchen adjacent to the living room, where dirty dishes mingled with empty Budweiser cans. There was no air conditioning, and the shadowy interior was warm with stale air that hung in the room.
‘You were on the security team during the marathon last month, weren’t you?’ Maggie asked her.
‘Yeah.’
‘We’re trying to identify the man who’s standing next to you in this picture.’
Jessie took the photograph from Maggie with two thick fingers. The glib smile on her face wavered. ‘Why are you looking for him?’
‘Do you know him?’ Stride asked.
‘Has he done something?’
‘Ms. Klayman, is this your son?’ Maggie asked. ‘Troy Grange thought it was.’
She sat down on the old sofa. An empty bag of Doritos was on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Okay, yeah, that’s Ross. So what?’
‘Is he here?’ Stride asked.
‘No.’
Stride eyed the hallway that led to the bedrooms. ‘Does your son live with you?’
‘Yes. What is this about?’
‘We’d just like to talk to him. Do you know when he’ll be back?’
‘No, he went for a walk. Do you think Ross has done something wrong? Because he hasn’t. He’s a great kid.’
Maggie withdrew another photograph from her pocket. This one was a blurry picture taken by Jay Ferris near Ely’s Peak, showing a man in camouflage aiming an assault rifle. ‘What about this photograph?’ she asked. ‘Is this Ross?’
Jessie studied it. ‘I don’t know. I can’t make out the face.’
‘Do you or Ross own a rifle like this?’
She shrugged. ‘We have guns. They’re all legal.’
‘Including a Bushmaster rifle?’ Maggie persisted.
‘Yeah, so what? I told you, they’re all legal.’
‘What about handguns?’
‘Yeah, we have some. Sure. I don’t have to remind you guys about the Second Amendment, do I? A person would have to be nuts not to carry a gun in this day and age. No offense to cops, but I don’t have time to wait for a patrol car to mosey over here if someone breaks into my house.’
‘Would you mind if we take a look at Ross’s room?’ Maggie asked.
Jessie folded her arms across her ample chest. The chirrup in her voice rose higher. ‘Actually, I do mind. You come in here asking all these questions about my son, and you won’t tell me what’s going on.’
Stride exchanged a glance with Maggie. ‘Well, thank you very much for your time, Ms. Klayman. We’d appreciate it if you or Ross could give us a call when he’s back. We need to meet with him in person.’
She shrugged. ‘Okay, but it’s a waste of time. He hasn’t done anything.’
Stride and Maggie let themselves out of the small house and returned to his Bronco. He turned on the engine, and a song by Sara Evans began playing on the stereo. ‘Born to Fly’. He put the truck in park but kept his foot on the brake.
‘You think it’s the same guy?’ Maggie asked him. ‘That Jay Ferris spotted Ross Klayman at Ely’s Peak?’
‘Probably, but I don’t think we’ll be able to prove it. We don’t have enough for a warrant to test their guns.’
‘The jury’s already out. Do we need to tell Dan about this?’
‘Yeah, I’ll tell him, for what it’s worth,’ Stride said. ‘It’s up to him whether he wants to disclose it to Gale. I don’t think this changes anything at all with regard to the case.’
Maggie glanced at the house, where Jessie Klayman stood at her front door, watching them. When the woman turned away, Maggie slid sunglasses over her face. ‘You don’t have any doubts about the case, boss?’
‘What, that Janine killed Jay?’ Stride asked. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘None at all?’
‘No reasonable doubt,’ he said. ‘That’s the only thing that matters.’
An hour later, Jessie jumped as she felt a hand tickling the back of her neck. She spun around and saw Ross standing behind the sofa. His lips folded into a grin. He could always sneak up on her.
‘You scared the crap out of me!’ she exclaimed.
‘Sorry.’
He wore an army hat, with the brim pulled low, and wraparound shades. A black tank top left his shoulders and skinny arms bare, exposing his tattoo of a skeleton dressed for combat. His skin glowed with sweat from the heat of the day, and he smelled of pine. He wore camouflage pants and heavy trail boots.
Jessie went back to her game show. ‘The police were here for you,’ she told him.
Ross didn’t say anything. She turned and saw her son staring down at her from behind his shades. The grin was gone. His mouth had no expression. She saw a twitch ripple through his bones.
‘Did you hear me?’ she said. ‘The police were asking about you.’
‘I heard you. What did they want?’
‘I don’t know. They didn’t say.’
‘What did you tell them?’ he asked.
She heard accusation in his voice, which annoyed her.
‘What do you think I told them? Nothing. I said they should leave us alone.’
Ross went to the living room window and pushed aside the curtain to watch the empty street outside. He did that a lot, as if he were waiting for someone who never showed up. She heard the muffled engine of a lawn mower in the neighborhood. Typical summer day.
‘I’m sure it’s no big deal,’ she went on. ‘Somebody probably saw you practicing with the Bushmaster and got freaked.’
‘They said that?’ he asked, his back to her.
‘They had a picture. You with a rifle. It was blurry, so I said it could have been anybody. It was you, though.’
She got up from the sofa. The credits rolled on the game show. She wasn’t sure why she watched; it was people earning money by knowing stupid things. She’d tried to get on a show herself once, but they never wrote back to her. It didn’t matter. They had enough money to live.
Jessie came up behind her son, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her head against his back. ‘You’re so tense,’ she said.
He said nothing.
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she told him. ‘A cool one. It’s so hot.’
Still he didn’t answer, and she didn’t let go.
‘Love me?’ she asked.
A long time passed, but finally he said: ‘Yes.’
That was all she needed to hear.
30
The vote was 11–1.
They’d all declared themselves now, even the two jurors who had originally been undecided. Howard remained the hold-out. They’d spent three hours in deliberation. He’d begun to see impatience in their faces, especially Bruce, who acted as if Howard were standing between him and a steak dinner and a bottle of wine. Eleanor, the foreman, remained calm as the others grumbled.
‘Howard, you understand that reasonable doubt is a different thing from having no doubt, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I get that,’ Howard said.
‘No one’s asking you to change your opinion simply because we feel differently,’ she went on, ‘but I want to make sure we’re all looking at the evidence the same way.’
Howard pushed his water glass in circles around the wooden table. He stared down, rather than looking up. ‘I just don’t see it the way the rest of you do.’