'Yeah. I guess it is.'
'What now?'
'I don't know,' he says. 'What do you normally do?'
'What do we do?' She shrugs. 'If someone turns himself in to the police and admits that he intended to commit murder? Committed acts furthering that crime? Entered into a conspiracy? We usually say you have the right to remain silent. That anything you say can be used against you. That you have the right to an attorney, but if you can't afford one we'll give you an overworked one who just got out of law school and will go into private practice the week your case goes to trial.'
He smiles a little bit. 'Am I under arrest?'
'I haven't decided,' she says. 'My sergeant thinks you fucked this up so much, there's probably nothing to charge you with. He thinks we should try to have you committed.'
'And what do you think?'
'What do I think?' Above her, the jet's slipstream is already dissolving in the violet sky. She sets the legal pads down, presses her thumb against her lips, then reaches over and touches his forehead. It is ice cold. She doesn't even remember if this is how it's done. But she makes a small cross of absolution on his cold forehead. Clark closes his eyes. 'I think this world is enough,' Caroline says.
And then she leans back and rests, stares out across her city, just beginning to stir, the houses coming to light among the timbers and the first cars gliding along the hillsides – the entire valley bathed in sun – dark ridges of pine and fir holding it in timeless embrace. Clark leans against her and morning settles over them.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to Anne Walter, Dan Butterworth, Jim Lynch, Cal Morgan, Lina Perl, Wayne Brookes, and Judith Regan for various acts of criticism, enthusiasm, and patience, and to Tony and Suzanne Bamonte, whose book,
About the author
Jess Walter is the writer of the highly acclaimed novel
