“A mall on the highway, and a hotel lobby in Cambridge,” Jesse said.
“That tell you anything?” Suit said.
“Only that he’s got a car.”
“Which we already knew,” Suit said.
“You got his plate numbers on the wire,” Jesse said.
“You bet,” Suit said.
“Moll?” Jesse said. “Anything to add?”
“Nope. No credit-card activity. No bank activity except the two ATMs. No other withdraw-als, no checks written,” Molly said.
“I thought he’d be easier to find,” Jesse said.
“He seems to have given it some thought,” Molly said.
“Smart guy,” Suit said.
“For a professor,” Jesse said.
He handed out photocopies of the last letter from the Night Hawk.
“God,” Suit said. “The poor sonovabitch is crazy, isn’t he.”
“You figured out who this person close to you is?” Molly said. “Does he know about Jenn?”
“I don’t know how he would,” Jesse said. “And even if he did, how would he know where she is. Hell, I don’t know where she is.”
“You been seeing Sunny Randall again,” Suit said.
“Couple of times,” Jesse said, “at the Gray Gull. He’d have to have seen us there, ID’ed her, find out where she lives. Seems like a long shot to me.”
“Yes,” Molly said. “To me, too.”
“How about Mrs. Ingersoll?” Suit said. “He’s probably mad at her, anyway, for saying he did something he didn’t do.”
“Possible,” Jesse said.
“Marcy Campbell is an even longer shot than Sunny Randall,” Molly said.
“Yes,” Jesse said.
“You have a thought?” Molly said.
“I have a theory,” Jesse said. “If you were Seth the Night Hawk, and you didn’t know anything much about me except that I was chief of police, and you began to sort of watch me, ask around about me, that sort of thing. What woman would be most frequently and closely asso-ciated with me?”
“It can’t be Rita Fiore,” Suit said.
Jesse shook his head.
He sat quietly while Molly and Suit thought about it. They didn’t think of anyone.
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic relationship,” Jesse said. “What woman do I simply spend the most time with?”
“Me,” Molly said.
Suit turned to look at her, then back at Jesse.
“Molly?”
“That would be my theory,” Jesse said.
“I think so,” Molly said.
Unconsciously, Suit’s hand rested lightly on his gun butt.
“You think he would actually take a run at Molly?” Suit said.
“She’s often with me. She’s a woman. She has a secret.”
“And a damn good-looking one,” Molly said.
Suit flinched.
“Jesus, Moll,” he said.
She smiled at him.
“We won’t let it happen,” Jesse said, more for Suit than for Molly.
“I’ll stay with her,” Suit said. “Anytime she’s not in the office with you, I’ll be right there.”
Molly was shaking her head.
“I appreciate your concern, but you guys aren’t thinking about it right,” she said.
“What’s the right way?” Jesse said.
“We want this to happen, it’s our shot at this creep, maybe, if we believe him, our last one.”
“You want to be bait,” Jesse said.
“No,” Suit said.
“Yes,” Molly said. “I’m a cop. I’m not the girl who makes coffee and pats down the female perps. I’m a cop. I have a gun, and Mace. I know something about self-defense. And I’m pretty sure I’d have backup.”
“Molly,” Suit said. “For crissakes . . .”
Jesse put his hand up to stop Suit.
“She’s right,” Jesse said.
Molly looked at him.
“You came around pretty easy,” she said.
“When you’re right, you’re right,” Jesse said.
“You devious sonovabitch,” Molly said. “You knew I’d say that, didn’t you?”
“I like a volunteer,” Jesse said.
69
“MY HUSBAND is fishing with his brother,” Molly said.
They had moved to the squad room so Jesse could walk back and forth as they talked and write things on the chalkboard.
“Where?” Jesse said.
“Trawler’s going up off George’s Bank,” she said.
“How long are they usually out?”
“Till the boat’s full,” Molly said. “Couple weeks, anyway.”
“He’s not carpentering anymore?” Suit said.
“Does that, too, “Molly said. “Does a lot of things. Mostly what he wants to.”
“Like what?” Suit said.
“Carpenters, works in the boatyard, fishes with his brother, does some lobstering, crews now and then on one of the yachts.”
“Sounds like a pretty good life,” Suit said. He looked sideways at Jesse and grinned. “No boss.”
“Michael couldn’t work a regular job,” Molly said. “He’d eventually get fired, or punch out the boss.”
“And then get fired,” Suit said.
Molly shrugged.
“I’m the one with the steady job,” she said.
“You talk to Mike while he’s gone?” Jesse said.
“Cell phone,” Molly said. “We usually talk every day.”
“You going to tell him about this?”
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “He deserves to know, but he’ll worry, and he’s a hundred miles at sea.”
Jesse nodded.
“You’ll decide,” he said.
“Yes,” Molly said.
“If you do decide to tell him, be sure he keeps it to himself. He’s probably not the only guy with a cell phone.”
“And word gets around,” Molly said. “I know.”
“How ’bout the kids?” he said.
“Get the bus at the end of the street at ten past eight,” Molly said. “Come home at three-thirty, except for my oldest, who usually doesn’t get home until supper.”
“What are we going to do about them?” Jesse said.
“They’ll have to be covered,” Molly said. “That’s my only rule in this.”
Jesse was looking out the squad-room window.
“Can they go visit somebody for a while?” he said.
“For a day or two, sure,” Molly said. “My sister lives in Newburyport and they get along with their cousins.”
“This may be more than a day or two,” Jesse said.
He turned from the window and walked the length of the room and leaned a shoulder against the wall next to the door.
“I know,” Molly said. “And they can’t miss that much school, and, frankly, I won’t send them away for that long. I miss them.”
Jesse nodded. He walked back to the window. He looked out.
“Okay,” he said. “Either of you got a contact at the town paper?”
Suit smiled.
“Used to date the editor,” he said.
“And she’s forgiven you?” Jesse said.
“She’s grateful as hell,” Suit said.
“Good,” Jesse said. “We want to plant a story.”
“What story?” Suit said.
Jesse turned and walked halfway down the room and leaned on the conference table, his palms flat on the tabletop.
“We’ll work that out in a minute,” Jesse said. “Moll, tell me about your neighborhood.”
70
IT WAS a shabby room in a shabby motel on the highway, where most people stayed only a few hours. But it had a bathroom and a bed, and the sheets seemed clean. The Night Hawk sat on the edge of the bed with his laptop, reading The Paradise Town Crier online.
PARADISE MOM BALANCES FAMILY AND POLICE
Michael Crane recently shipped out for George’s Bank on his brother Bob’s trawler, Sea Crane . Mike leaves behind his wife, Molly, who is a full-time mother, wife, and police officer.
And with her husband absent periodically for weeks at a time, Molly must juggle things even more adroitly. “Chief Stone has been great,” Molly says. “He gives me the freedom to do what I need to do as a mother. He has arranged my schedule so that I am home every morning to get the kids off to school and do the housework.” Molly Crane grew up in Paradise, as Molly Mulherne. She met her future husband in the fourth grade, and, she says, they have been together ever since. . . .