High Profile

Fox, the networks, local news, Court TV, the Globe, the Herald, The New York Times. People, US, The National Enquirer . . . Reporting live from Paradise, Massachusetts, this is Every Prettyface. Ringling Bros., Barnum

& Bailey. Jenn was an investigative reporter now. Not many weather girls made that jump. Jesse was pretty sure she had made it on her back. Walton Weeks would bring her out. He knew her. She’d be looking for an exclusive, an inside look, her special perspective. She’d use him if she could. He knew her. All he had left was being a cop. “I won’t let her,”

Jesse said aloud. He drank, staring out at the harbor. There was no moon. It was too dark now to see the skiff. He held his glass up and looked through it at the still-bright light of the party boat. Pale amber. Clear ice. Thick glass. He took in some sea-scented spring night air. Last drink. Then I’ll make a sandwich. Maybe have a beer with it. Go to bed. He finished the drink slowly, standing in the dark on the balcony. He listened to the harbor water moving gently below his balcony.

“I won’t give her up,” he said.

Then he turned and went in and closed the doors behind him. 2 2

7

The reporters were gathered in a press tent in the parking lot in back of the Town Hall, to the side of the DPW

garage. Several portable toilets had been set up. The equipment trucks had filled most of the parking lot behind the supermarket. More portable toilets. There was a press briefing scheduled each morning at nine a.m. in the Town Hall auditorium. Molly was to do the briefing.

“This is blatant sexism,” she said.

“You’re the only one I trust in front of the press.”

“How about you?”

“I’m the chief,” Jesse said.

R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“For crissake,” Molly said, “we have nothing to tell them.”

“True,” Jesse said.

“So what am I supposed to say?”

“Tell them we have nothing to tell them,” Jesse said.

“It may be weeks before we have anything to tell them,”

Molly said. “What do I do up there every day?”

“Charm them,” Jesse said. “Wear the full gun belt, makes you look really cute.”

“You are a sexist pig,” Molly said.

“Maybe you could have your hat on at a rakish angle,”

Jesse said.

“Fuck!” Molly said and left the office.

Suitcase Simpson came in with a notebook.

“What’s up with Molly,” Suit said. “I think she tried to bite me when I passed her in the hall.”

“Gee,” Jesse said. “I can’t imagine.”

Simpson shrugged.

“I got some preliminary stuff on Weeks,” he said. Jesse said, “Okay,” and nodded toward one of the chairs.