He’d asked sometimes but had never gotten an answer that made sense to him. He didn’t mind. Part of what he liked in women was the uncertainty that they created. There was always a sense of puzzlement, of tension. Tension was much better than boredom.
Crow’s phone rang. He smiled and nodded his head.
“Bingo,” he said.
66.
“I need to run this by you,” Jesse said.
Dix nodded.
“I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing,” Jesse said.
“And you think I’ll know?” Dix said.
“I think you’ll have an informed opinion,” Jesse said. “I will value it.”
Dix tilted his head very slightly, as if he was almost acknowledging a compliment.
“I am conspiring with a contract killer, a known felon, named Wilson Cromartie, to keep a fourteen-year-old female runaway from the custody of her father, her mother is dead, and establish a life for her here in Paradise.”
“Fourteen,” Dix said.
“Yes, and a mess. Her father is a major criminal figure in Florida. I believe he had her mother killed. My guess is that when she lived with him she was molested, though probably not by him.”
“Others around him?” Dix said.
“I think so,” Jesse said. “I have her a job and a place to stay at Daisy Dyke’s restaurant once we have worked something out with the father.”
“Can you do that?”
“Not in any conventional sense, but Crow and I have a plan.”
“Crow?”
“Wilson Cromartie,” Jesse said. “If it works she will be on her own.”
“At fourteen,” Dix said.
“With Daisy Dyke, and I’ll be responsible for her—school, doctor, stuff like that.”
“Money?”
“We’re working on that,” Jesse said.
“You and Crow.”
“Yes.”
“Have you thought of Youth Services,” Dix said. “Other agencies?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I turn her over to an agency,” Jesse said, “and she’ll be gone in an hour.”
“She might be gone in an hour anyway.”
“Be her choice,” Jesse said. “I won’t have delivered her into the hands of
