“Yeah.”
“You ever tell him?”
“He told me to shut up and not talk dirty.”
Jesse nodded.
“So you have a plan?”
“Plan?”
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Where you’re going to live. What you’re going to do for work.”
She looked at him silently with her eyes wide and empty for a long time.
Then she said, “I don’t have no plan.”
“Well, you can bunk here for the moment until we work out something better,” Jesse said. “You want something to eat?”
“I don’t know.”
Jesse nodded as if that made sense.
“Moll,” he said. “Get whoever’s on patrol to stop by Daisy’s and pick up a couple sandwiches.”
“Can I have ice cream?” Amber said.
“What kind?”
“Chocolate?”
“Sure,” Jesse said.
He looked at Molly.
“Coming up,” Molly said.
42.
The Paradise police firing range was outdoors, backing up to some wetlands and shielded by dirt bunkers that had been bulldozed. Jesse had a new Smith & Wesson .40-caliber semiautomatic handgun that he wanted to break in. He had his earmuffs off, reloading a magazine, when Crow parked on the street and walked through the short trail into the firing area.
“Officer Molly told me you were here,” Crow said.
Jesse nodded.
“You want to shoot?” he said.
“Sure,” Crow said. “Can I borrow a gun?”
Jesse smiled.
“You got a gun,” Jesse said.
“It is illegal to carry a gun in this state without a permit,” Crow said.
“You’d have a gun in the shower,” Jesse said.
Crow smiled and spread his hands. Jesse nodded.
“In this town it is legal for someone to carry a gun to the firing range and shoot with the chief of police,” Jesse said.
Crow looked steadily at Jesse for a moment. Then he nodded once, took a Glock nine-millimeter off his hip, crouched slightly, and, holding the Glock in both hands, put six rounds into the center of the target. Jesse finished loading the Smith & Wesson, turned sideways, and, firing with one hand, put six rounds into the center of the target.
