“Could be,” Jenn said.
“You know him?”
“Not really,” Jenn said.
“His e-mail address is in your computer,” Jesse said.
“My computer?”
“Tpat at cybercop-dot-com,” Jesse said.
“Goddamn you, you searched my apartment.”
Jesse shook his head.
“I didn’t give you a key so you’d come snooping around,”
Jenn said.
Jesse didn’t speak.
“You bastard,” Jenn said.
Jesse said nothing.
“I had a nice dinner ready,” she said.
She began to cry. Jesse took in some air and sat. Jenn sobbed. Jesse waited.
After a time, Jenn said to Jesse, “Give me a napkin or something.”
2 1 9
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
Jesse handed her a cocktail napkin from the pretty arrangement on the coffee table. Jenn patted at her eyes with the napkin.
“It was going to be a nice evening,” Jenn said. Jesse nodded.
“I don’t have many of those anymore,” Jenn said. Jesse nodded at the pictures on the coffee table.
“That’s your stalker, Jenn.”
“I don’t—”
Jesse put up his hand as if stopping traffic.
“We both know it,” he said. “Did he rape you?”
Jenn teared up again, and put her face in her hands and shook her head.
“No, he didn’t rape you?” Jesse said.
Jenn slid down the couch and pressed against Jesse with her face against his chest. He put an arm around her. She cried quietly.
“Did he rape you?” Jesse said.
She didn’t answer.
After a time, Jesse said, “There’s nothing so bad I can’t hear it, Jenn.”
His voice was hoarse.
“We had sex, when I didn’t want to,” Jenn said. Her voice was muffled against his chest.
