“I’ll take it from
here.”
Molly shrugged and nodded and walked away. Jesse knew she disapproved. Sexual harassment was an easy charge to make against a male cop alone with a woman. Jesse put the car in gear.
“You want to slump down so nobody sees you,” Jesse said, “I
won’t take it personally.”
Candace sat with her back to the car window.
“What do you want?”
“To talk,” Jesse said. “The
elaborate stuff is to make sure no
one sees you talking to me.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t care. But I was under the
impression you
did.”
Jesse pulled out of the parking lot and went north on Route 114.
“Where are you taking me?”
“There’s a Dunkin‘ Donuts up
here,” Jesse said. “We’ll have a
cup of coffee.”
“I don’t want to talk with you.”
“I know,” Jesse said. “But I
think you have to.”
They were quiet while Jesse drove through the take-out window and got two coffees and four cinnamon donuts. Jesse carefully opened the little window in the plastic top of both cups and handed one to Candace. He sat the donuts on the console between them, leaning against the shotgun that stood in its lock rack against the dashboard.
“Bo Marino,” Jesse said. “Kevin
Feeney, Troy
Drake.”
Candace’s shoulders hunched, her head went down. She didn’t say
anything.
“We both know they raped you,” Jesse said.
Candace hunched herself tighter.
“And we both know they threatened you about telling.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m the police chief,” Jesse
said. “I know
everything.”
“I don’t know what you are talking
about,” Candace said in a
small voice, her eyes riveted on her own lap.
Jesse ate half a donut and drank some coffee.
“If you let them,” Jesse said,
“they will make your life
miserable as long as you live in this town.”
Candace shook her head.
“If you tell me about it,” Jesse said,
“I can give you your life
back.”
“My mother,” Candace said.
“I can help you with your mother,” Jesse said.
Candace kept staring at her lap. Jesse finished his first donut
and drank some more coffee. They were both silent. Candace’s hunched shoulders began to shake. She made
