“That’s not mine,
the bastards planted that.”
“Be my guess that there’s enough
here,” Molly said, “to support
possession with intent.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Jesse
said. “Anything
else?”
“No weapon,” Simpson said. “But
we didn’t look at
everything.”
Simpson put Bo’s backpack on top of the file cabinet next to the
window behind Jesse’s desk.
“You guys may as well go back to what you were doing,” Jesse
said.
“Cover’s pretty well blown,”
Molly said.
“Stay on it anyway,” Jesse said.
“I never had any cover to start with,”
Simpson
said.
Molly and Simpson went out. Jesse sat quietly looking at Bo.
“I need something for my eyes,” Bo said between coughs. “I need
a doctor.”
Jesse didn’t say anything for a while. Then he stood.
“Okay, let’s go wash you off,”
he said.
Rinsed and dried, Bo was still red-eyed and puffy-looking, and he still coughed sporadically.
“You call my father?” Bo said.
“We’re working on it,” Jesse
said. “Right now we got you on
possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell, failure to obey a lawful command, threatening a police officer, assaulting a police officer, and being a general major-league fucking jerk.”
“That bitch can’t get away with spraying me like that,” Bo
said.
Jesse smiled. He didn’t say anything. Bo sat in the chair across
the desk staring hard at Jesse.
“So you gonna arrest me?” he said.
“Or what?”
Jesse didn’t answer him. Bo stood up.
“Fuck this,” he said.
“I’m walking out of here.”
“Nope,” Jesse said.
“You think you can stop me?” Bo said.
Jesse laughed. “Of course I can stop you,”
he said. “For
crissake a hundred-and-twenty-pound woman hauled you in here in handcuffs.”
“If you weren’t a cop
…”
“But I am a cop,” Jesse said.
“Sit down.”
