Jesse nodded. Both the Lincolns ordered a cosmopolitan. Jesse had cranberry juice and soda.
“Of course,” Tony said. “How
thoughtless of us. You’re on
duty.”
Jesse let it go.
“The view is certainly everything it should be,” Brianna
said.
The day was bright, the neck across the harbor was covered with
new snow. The ocean water reflected the blue sky.
“It’s what they’re
selling,” Tony said. “If Jesse is right about the food.”
Jesse ordered the club sandwich again. Tony and Brianna each had
tuna salad on toasted whole wheat. Goes great with the cosmopolitan, Jesse thought.
“How’s the investigation going?”
Tony said.
“The serial killings?”
“Yes. Oh, of course,” Tony said.
“Talk about an amateur. It
never occurred to me that you had other cases.”
Jesse smiled.
“So in the serial killings,” Tony said.
“Are you getting
anywhere?”
Brianna was silent, listening to her husband, watching Jesse.
“There’s progress,” Jesse said.
“Really,” Tony said. “Are you at
liberty to talk about
it?”
Jesse shook his head.
“I understand,” Tony said.
“I hope none of them suffered,” Brianna said.
“The victims?” Jesse shook his head.
“It was over pretty
quick.”
“Good,” Brianna said.
“Do you think they knew, before they were shot, that they were
going to be shot?”
Jesse shrugged.
“What must it be like,” Brianna said.
“To know you’re going to
die.”
“Brianna,” Tony said. “Everybody
knows that.”
“It’s one thing,” Brianna said,
“to know you’re going to die
someday, and quite another to know you’re going to die in the next
moment.”
Tony nodded.
He said, “Have you ever been in that position, Jesse?”
“Facing death?” Brianna said.
Jesse smiled.
“I’m just a small-town cop,”
