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As he rode back to the station, the ringing of his phone interrupted the Terry Jester song coming out of his speakers.

“Jesse?”

“Who else you think is answering the phone in my car, Molly?”

“Jesse, I’m curious. Do you have any of the bats from when you played ball?”

“I do. Why?”

“I’d like to borrow one to smack you over the head.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “What’s up?”

“The ME called. He’s released the body to the family. The tox screen isn’t back, but the state crime lab called him. There was enough of a sample in the hypo to test. COD is cardiac arrest due to an overdose of—”

“Heroin and fentanyl,” he said.

“Why do I bother?”

“Because you love me.”

She laughed. “No, that isn’t it.”

“Because if something happens to me, you get to be chief again.”

“Bingo.”

“You might want to remember that the next time you’re tempted to smack me over the head with a Louisville Slugger.”

“Point taken. So, Jesse, how did you know about—”

“ODs like Heather’s are rampant. The stats are scary bad, Crane.”

“I’ve seen them.”

“Now they’re not just stats anymore. Heather was one of ours.”

Molly tried to talk, but Jesse could tell she was choked up. There’d been a lot of that today, and there promised to be more of it in the days to come.

“Fentanyl is fifty to a hundred times more powerful than heroin,” Jesse said, giving Molly time to compose herself. “It kills even longtime addicts. Someone like Heather, a new user... She had no chance. Any word on the funeral arrangements?”

“That was the other thing I was calling about,” Molly said, her voice less shaky. “Selectman Mackey’s sister called and said since the body has been released, the viewing would be tomorrow night. Are you going?”

“We are, if your husband can spare you.”

“He can spare me. What will I be there for?” Molly asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

“People are comfortable around you, Molly. You’re a cop, but you’re also part of the fabric of Paradise.”

“So are you, Jesse. You even said it before. Heather was one of ours.”

“That’s how I feel, but it’s not how I’m always perceived.”

Molly couldn’t argue with that. Small-town people are slow to trust outsiders, and she guessed that no matter how long Jesse had been police chief, no matter how many times he had proved himself and his loyalty, some folks would always see him as an outsider. And with all the downstaters moving in, the locals weren’t exactly in an accepting frame of mind.

“I hope this is an isolated incident, Jesse.”

“C’mon, Molly, you’re too good a cop for hoping. You know how this works.”

“I guess I hope it’s not another high school kid.”

“If it means anything, I hope so, too. But where did hoping ever get us?”

“You think we’ve got a drug problem in town?”

“Every town has a drug problem. What I don’t want is a drug network operating in Paradise.”

“A drug operation in Paradise?” Molly was skeptical.

“Heather got the hit somewhere.”

“But we’re such a small town. What have we got to offer to a drug operation?”

“Small towns have small police forces, and we’ve got proximity to Boston.”

“I guess.”

“I’m going to grab some lunch.”

“At Daisy’s?”

“Uh-huh. You want something?”

“How are things with you and Cole?”

“We’ve kind of settled into... I’m not sure. A kind of truce, I think. When I was in the hospital after the old meetinghouse explosion, I thought we had something. But he’s still angry at me, even though he knows the truth of what happened between me and his mom.”

“Then the problem is his, Jesse, not yours. Tough thing for a parent to not feel responsible for everything and every feeling your children have.”

“Yeah. When did you get past it?”

“Never. I don’t think good parents ever do.”

“So you don’t have all the answers, Molly?”

“Nope. I just have more of them than you do.”

Ten

Daisy’s was busy. That was kind of like saying the sky was blue. Paradise was a great town, but it wasn’t blessed with myriad restaurant choices. The Gray Gull was okay, but the food was never more than passable. The food at the Lobster Claw was better, though still not Michelin-star material. Both the Gull and the Claw owed the majority of their business to well-run bars, their waterside locations, and a lack of serious competition. There were a few pubs in town, mostly in the Swap, where you could get a good burger, but if you wanted a good breakfast and a great lunch special, you had to go to Daisy’s.

Since Cole had arrived in town and gotten a job at Daisy’s, the frequency of Jesse’s visits had increased from once or twice a week to three or four times a week. He sometimes still couldn’t believe he had a son, and he so badly wanted it to work out between them that he had made a lot of missteps. Nothing he did worked. He paid either too much attention or not enough. Like he’d explained to Molly, he thought they’d turned a corner when they finally spoke about how Jesse had been involved with Cole’s mother, but that understanding had seemed to evaporate. Some progress had been made, just not enough. The thing of it was, Cole’s existence shook Jesse’s famous self-containment to its core, even more so than marrying Jenn or being with Diana ever had.

Daisy smirked at Jesse. She’d noticed his seemingly unquenchable hunger for her food.

“You keep showing up here like this, Jesse Stone, and people will say we’re in love,” she said, pouring him some coffee.

He smiled. “Would that be so bad?”

“I’m not your type. Besides, they’ll take my lesbian membership card away.”

“We can’t have that. Let the kid wait on me.”

She raised her eyebrow at that. “I would, but he’s not here. Took today off. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me? Tell me what?”

Daisy cleared her throat, made some fidgety movements, and excused herself. “I’ll be back in a minute to get your order.”

That’s odd, Jesse thought. Daisy was one of the toughest, most forthright, and least tactful people he’d ever known. It wasn’t like her to be so uncomfortable around him or to dance around a subject, any subject. He shrugged. He was hungry and already had enough on his mind, if not on his lunch plate.

Studying the menu, Jesse became aware of someone standing near his booth, and he began to recite his order. “I’ll have a Cobb salad, no bleu cheese.” He held the menu up.

But when the menu wasn’t snatched out of his hand, he raised his head and saw it wasn’t Daisy standing there. It was Maryglenn McCombs. He handed her his menu.

“Twice in one day,” she said. “May I sit?”

He smiled again, a different smile than the one he’d flashed at Daisy. “Might as well. You’ve already got a menu.”

She sat across from him. “I suppose I can buy you that meal now.”

“I love this place, but you’ll have to do better than a Cobb salad at Daisy’s.”