doing.”
“I do,” Jesse said.
“I also know,” Rita said, “like
about everyone else in the
damned world, that you got a serial killer operating here.”
“I do.”
“You must be stretched pretty thin.”
“We are.”
“But you had time to run this down.”
Jesse nodded. He could feel the force of Rita’s sexuality. All
her movements, every gesture of her head, every verbal tone, was carnal. He knew it was real, and he knew she used that.
“These kids do it?” Rita said.
“Absolutely,” Jesse said.
“No reasonable doubt?”
“None,” Jesse said.
“Well,” Rita said. “Maybe I can
create one.”
“Hope not,” Jesse said.
Rita stood and smoothed her skirt down over her thighs.
“I just like to get a feel for the case,”
she said. “Healy told
us you were a, what did he say? It was kind of cute. Oh, he said you were a straight shooter.”
“That is cute,” Jesse said.
Rita smiled and put on a coat with a big fur-trimmed hood, which
she put up carefully over her hair.
“I hope we can talk again,” she said.
“You know where to find me,” Jesse said.
Rita looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.
“Do you want me to find you?” she said.
“I believe I do,” Jesse said.
41
Healy pushed his way past the cluster of reporters outside the Paradise Police Station. One of the print reporters recognized him.
“Captain Healy,” he said. “Is
there a break in the sniper
case?”
Microphones were pressed upon him. Television cameras came suddenly to life.
“Have the state police taken over the case? Are you planning to
offer a reward … Is there forensic evidence … Why are
you here … Do you think the Paradise police are competent to handle a case of this magnitude … Is the FBI involved
…
Is there a chance they will be … Do you have a theory of the case … Are you comfortable working with Chief Stone
…?”
Healy ignored it as if it were not there. He went in through the
front door and closed it behind him. He said hello to Molly and went past her to Jesse’s office.
“There are a hundred and twenty-three thousand people in this
great Commonwealth,” Healy said, “who have bought a twenty-two
weapon, or twenty-two ammunition in the past year.”
He sat down.
“Their days are numbered,” Jesse said.
