“Well, thank you, Herman; that’s high praise.”
“I want you to take some pictures of our plant and equipment and write up a little history of the company and some of the jobs we’ve handled, like the ski resort in Park City. Do whatever you think will make up a good presentation.”
“I’ll get right on it, Herman.”
Muller nodded and went back to his own office. Jesse leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. New York! He hadn’t been there in years. He’d take Jenny, and they’d have a good dinner or two, maybe see a show. The phone rang.
“Jesse Barron.”
“Jesse, it’s Pat Casey.”
“Hi, Pat.”
“Listen, can you stop by the station for about an hour on your way home tonight?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“Sure. I’ll see you a little after six.” He hung up the phone. Maybe he was about to be let inside at last. He picked up the phone and called Jenny.
“How’d you like a weekend in New York?” he asked gleefully.
There was a shocked silence for a moment. “I don’t know,” she replied.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Herman’s sending me on business. We’d have a terrific time.”
“Can we talk about it when you get home?”
“Sure we can. Oh, I’ve got to make a stop on the way. I should be there around seven or seven-thirty.”
“I’ll make dinner for seven-thirty, then.”
“Perfect; maybe I’ll pick up a bottle of wine on the way.”
“Sounds good.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
He was disappointed in her reaction to the possibility of a New York trip; he’d thought she’d be dying to go, to get out of this little town for a change.
Jesse stopped at the liquor store and chose an extra-good bottle of California Cabernet, then he drove over to the police station.
The place was quiet, with only one officer on duty. Pat Casey met him in reception. “Hey, Jesse. Come on back here with me.” Casey led him down a corridor to the rear of the station. He opened a door with a four-digit combination, and showed Jesse inside.
Jesse was careful to memorize the combination. You never knew. But something he saw in the room nearly made him forget the numbers. Sitting on a table in the center of the room was something he had not seen for a long time, and the sight of it made his blood run cold.
“Have a seat, Jesse,” Casey said. He motioned to a chair next to the table, then pulled up a chair for himself. “Something we have to get out of the way, just a formality.”
“Yeah?” Jesse asked, trying not to sound nervous.
“Yeah. Jack Gene wants you to take a polygraph test.”
“A what?”
“A lie detector test.”
Chapter 26
Jesse sat and stared at the machine. He remembered a conversation he’d had with an FBI polygraph operator whom his unit in Miami had borrowed from time to time. “You can’t beat the machine,” the man had said. “Not if the operator’s good. An experienced man will pick up the lies every time. There’s only one way you can beat it, and that’s by believing your own lies.”
“Excuse me a minute,” Casey said, “I’ve got to get another roll of paper for this thing.”
What did the machine measure? Respiration and pulse and something to do with skin reactions: sweat? It was cool enough in the room, but he slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. How could he handle the respiration and pulse changes? Yoga. He didn’t know much about it, but his wife, Beth, had bought a book on the subject once, and she had read to him about a breathing exercise that he had tried. He could hear Casey in conversation with someone out in the hallway.
Jesse got as comfortable as he could and began the relaxation exercise he’d learned. He took slow, deep breaths, counting to ten as he did so, and released them to the same count. After ten of those, he began holding his breath for a count of ten before releasing. Casey continued to talk outside.
I’ve got to believe myself, he thought. Don’t think about what will happen if I fail this test; think about Jesse Barron, be Jesse Barron. Nobody else exists in this body; the other guy is dead. He started as Casey reentered the room.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Casey said.
Jesse breathed less deeply, but kept the rhythm. He relaxed his toes, his arches, his calves and thighs, then his stomach muscles, arms, neck and shoulders. While the chief connected him to the apparatus he thought of his new life, of Jenny, of his coming trip to New York. He breathed and let his mind wander over his existence. He thought of Jenny in bed with him, of Carey laughing at his jokes, of dinner by candlelight with Jenny in New York.
“Okay,” Casey said, “I’m going to start asking you questions, and all you have to do is answer them truthfully by saying yes or no. Got that?”
Jesse nodded.
“Say yes.”
“Yes.”
“Is your name Jesse?”
“Yes.” Easy first question.
“Are you fifty-five years old?”
“No.”
“Do you live in St. Clair, Idaho?”
“Yes.”
“Are you six feet five inches tall?”
“No.” He began to pick up a kind of rhythm in the questioning.
“Have you ever been convicted of a crime?”
Jesse felt his pulse lurch. “Yes.”
“Do you know how to drive a car?”
“Yes.” He slowed his breathing, tried to calm down.
“Are you a police officer?”
“No.” God’s truth.
“Do you work at St. Clair Wood Products?”
“Yes.” Jenny was nuzzling his ear.
“Did anyone send you to St. Clair?”
“No.”
“Do you know Jack Gene Coldwater?”
“Yes.”
“Do you drive a Cadillac?”
“No.”
“Had you ever heard of Jack Gene Coldwater before coming to St. Clair?”
“No.”
“Are you a Christian?”
“Yes.” Sort of.
“Do you believe everything you read in the Bible?”
“No.”
“Do you live in the home of Jennifer Weatherby?”
“Yes.”
“Do you sleep with Jennifer Weatherby?”
He hesitated.
“Answer all questions immediately. Do you sleep with Jennifer Weatherby?”
“Yes.” He felt Jenny’s body next to his.
“Do you like your work?”
“Yes.” Breathe slowly.
“Have you ever lied to me?”
“No.”
“Were you born in North Georgia?”
“Yes.”
“Did you grow up in North Georgia?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?”
“No.” Another lie. Maybe a few lies to inconsequential questions would help scramble the results.
“Have you ever had any children?”
“Yes.”
“Do you go to church regularly?”
“No.”
“Is your wife living?”
“No.”
“Have you ever fired a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever had any weapons training?”
“Yes.”
“Are your children living?”
Jesse managed something like a wince. “No.”
“Did you love your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Do you prefer the company of white people to the company of blacks?”
Be Jesse Barron! “Yes.”
“Do you believe white people are superior to other races?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever had sex with a black woman?”