“I will. I’ll call you. We can e-mail. I don’t want to lose touch with you, Jesse.”
“I’ll be standing by,” Jesse said.
“You can call me on my cell,” Jenn said. “If you need to.”
“Sure,” Jesse said.
“Well, I gotta get organized. Monday is coming quick.”
“Yep.”
“Wish me luck, Jesse?”
“Always,” Jesse said.
They hung up. Jesse sat back a little in his chair and stared at nothing in the empty room.
They weren’t married anymore. She had a right to go where she wanted and to fuck who she wanted. His throat felt tight, and it was difficult to swallow. He stood and made himself a drink.
Tall glass. Lot of ice. Couple of ounces of scotch. Fill with soda. He stood for a moment, stirring the drink with his forefinger. Behind the bar was a big picture of Ozzie Smith. Ozzie was in midair, parallel with the ground, stretched out as far as he could stretch, catching a line drive. Jesse nodded at the picture.
“Wizard,” he said.
His voice sounded intrusive in the silent room. He took a drink of scotch.
“Best that ever played,” Jesse said.
He drank some more scotch. He looked at the big bottle of scotch on the bar—1.75 liters.
It was nearly full.
“I wouldn’t have been that good,” Jesse said. “But I’d have made the show. If I didn’t get hurt, I’d have made the show.”
He turned, carrying his glass, and walked across the living room. He stood and looked out the French doors at the harbor and began to drink his scotch.
11
IT WAS becoming harder for the Night Hawk to wait for Wednesday night. He hadn’t actually seen nakedness yet, but he’d seen women moving about in their bedrooms, unaware of being watched. If he kept his pace, sooner or later, he would see. Tonight he was in position to watch Lindsey Monahan through her bedroom window. There was a field behind her house, which you could reach by walking down the railroad tracks behind it. He lay flat in a low part of the field, behind a small outcropping of rock, with his binoculars. The light was on in her bedroom. But the room was empty. The Night Hawk was patient. Bagging the quarry was only the end part of a process. Like any hunt, the process was part of the pleasure. After an hour or so, Lindsey came into her bedroom. She took off her blouse, and her slacks. Her undergarments were red and frilly. Lindsey is hotter than she seems, the Night Hawk thought. She went into the bathroom and stayed there, out of sight for maybe ten minutes. When she came out of the bathroom she had a towel wrapped like a turban around her head, and was wearing a white terry-cloth robe that looked too big for her. All spanking clean, the Night Hawk said to himself. She came to the bed and sat, facing the window. The robe fell away a little over her knees, as the Night Hawk focused through his binoculars. He could feel his heart beat. She leaned sideways and turned off the light. Damn . The Night Hawk lay in position for a time, his binoculars ready. But the light didn’t go on again. When he was sure it wouldn’t, the Night Hawk stood and checked his watch, and walked back to the railroad tracks. She sleeps naked, he thought. He looked at his watch. Late. Too late to go to one of his other spots. He’d spent all evening on Lindsey and gotten to see her in her fancy underwear. That was something . . . but it wasn’t enough.
12
JESSE HAD slept in his clothes and, despite a long shower, a pint of orange juice, three cups of coffee, and two aspirin, he still had a hangover. He was sipping his fourth cup, at his desk, when Molly Crane stuck her head in.
She said, “Two things, Jesse.”
He nodded.
“We got a Peeping Tom report,” Molly said. “And the DA is going to stop by here after lunch.”
“Anything special about the peeper?” Jesse said.
“Nope. Some guy looking in a window,” Molly said. “Ran off when the woman’s husband yelled at him.”
“Who’s on patrol?” Jesse said.
“John Maguire and Arthur Angstrom,” Molly said.
“Send John,” Jesse said. “Howard Hannigan give a time?”
“I didn’t talk to him,” Molly said. “But his, ah, girl didn’t specify exactly. Just ‘after lunch.’ ”
“Wish I had a girl,” Jesse said.
“You got me,” Molly said.
“You’re a woman,” Jesse said.
“Well, I’m glad you noticed.”
“Crow told me,” Jesse said.
Molly blushed.
“Our secret, Moll,” Jesse said.
“I certainly wish it were just mine,” Molly said.
“Almost the same,” Jesse said.
