“I think you should know,” Emily Frank said, “that I for one
haven’t found this meeting useful.”
“I never thought it would be,” Jesse said, and walked out of the
room.
Rita followed him.
“This will take all day,” she said
“Are you free for
dinner?”
“Sure,” Jesse said.
“I’ll pick something up and come to your place.”
“Really,” Jesse said.
“About seven,” Rita said.
“Seven,” Jesse said.
Rita turned and walked back along the second-floor corridor to the conference room. At the door she turned.
“Probably eat about nine or ten,” she said and grinned and went
in.
50
The town beach was empty, except for a woman in a pink down jacket running a Jack Russell terrier. Jesse stood for a moment under the little pavilion that served, as far as Jesse could tell, no useful purpose. Twenty feet to his left Kenneth Eisley’s body
had rolled about at the tidal margin, until the ocean receded. The first one. Jesse looked out at the rim of the gray ocean, where it merged with the gray sky. It seemed longer ago than it was.
They’d
found him in November, and now it was the start of February. Dog was still with Valenti. Too long. Dog shouldn’t be in a shelter
that long. I got to find someone to take the dog.
Beaches
were cold places in February. Jesse was wearing a turtleneck and a sheepskin jacket. He pulled his watch cap down over his ears, and pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat. I know who killed you, Kenneth. He stepped off the little pavilion and onto the sand. He was above the high tide line where the mingle of seaweed and flotsam made a ragged line. Ahead of him the Jack Russell raced down at the ocean as it rolled in and barked at it, and dodged back when it got close. He was taunting the ocean. I know who killed the lady in the mall, and the guy in the church parking lot. I know who killed Abby. Jesse trudged along the sand, feeling it shift slightly beneath his feet as he walked.
Now me? He could think of no reasonable explanation for
why they would go out in the evening and take pictures of his home.
The day was not windy, and the ocean’s movement was gently rounded,
with only an occasional crest of the waves. There was something about oceans. The day he left LA he went to Santa Monica and looked at the Pacific. Despite their perpetual movement there was a stillness about oceans. Despite the sound of the waves, there was a great silence. The empty beach and the limitless ocean hinted at the vast secret of things. He’d gotten their attention. They were
reacting to him. It was a start. If I stay with them maybe they’ll make a run at me, and I’ll have them.
He smiled to
himself. Or they’ll have me. He stopped and looked out at
the ocean. High up, a single herring gull circled slowly above the ocean, looking down, hoping for food. Nothing moved on the horizon.
I guess if they get me I won’t care much.
In front of him
the Jack Russell yapped urgently at his owner. She took a ball from her backpack and threw it awkwardly, the way girls throw. The dog raced after it. Caught up with it, pounced on it with his forepaws, bumped it with his nose, grabbed it in his mouth and shook it to death.
Looking at the ocean, Jesse thought about Abby. She hadn’t found
the man of her dreams. She’d hoped that Jesse would make her happy,
but he hadn’t. Nothing much did. She wanted things too hard, she
needed things too much, she had her own private fight with alcohol.
Sometimes her sexuality embarrassed her. The gull had moved inland, looking for landfill or roadkill, or maybe a discarded Moon Pie.
Nothing moved above the ocean now. I wish I could have loved you, Abby. He reached the end of the beach, where the huge sea-smooth rocks loomed up, and beyond them, expensive houses with a view. So long, Ab. He
