“She . . .” Sunny started and stopped.
“I know,” Jesse said.
They both drank.
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“Is there anything she could do that would make you give her up?” Sunny said.
“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “For a while there, when we were in L.A. together . . .”
“I remember,” Sunny said. “And now?”
Jesse stared into his drink.
“I love you, Sunny,” he said. “Hell, I probably love Molly Crane.”
“Whom you’ve never touched,” Sunny said.
“Of course not.”
“But Jenn is Jenn,” Sunny said.
“Yes.”
“God save me,” Sunny said. “I understand this.”
“I know you do,” Jesse said.
He finished his drink and motioned for a refill.
“So what do you want me to do with her?” Sunny said.
“Stay with her,” Jesse said.
Sunny nodded. She finished her drink and nodded to the bartender.
“When will you have time to talk with her?” Sunny said. Jesse smiled slightly and shook his head.
“I can make time,” he said. “It’s when will I have the strength.”
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47
From his window, looking down over the driveway of the fire station, Jesse watched the arrival. The governor of the Commonwealth, his man Richard Kennfield, and three suits whose function Jesse did not know got out of a trooperdriven limo and moved through the press of reporters toward Jesse’s office. A big black Chevy Suburban parked behind the limo. No one got out.
The governor stopped to talk with a gaggle of television reporters. Jesse couldn’t hear what he said. Probably something forceful and positive. Then he and his cluster moved
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into the station and came to Jesse’s office. The governor stuck out his hand.
“Chief Stone?” he said. “I’m Cabot Forbes.”
Jesse shook his hand. The governor looked around. Kennfield said, “The governor would like his staff with him. Is there a bigger room?”
