Jesse paused, not looking at Louis. “That’s when he told me everything. He told me we had to see it through together. But I couldn’t anymore, not after he told me he killed Pryce.”
“You told him you were turning yourself in?” Louis asked.
Jesse nodded. “That’s when…”
“He put you in the back of the Bronco,” Louis finished.
Jesse picked at the gauze on his left hand. It was quiet except for the hum of a monitor above the bed.
“I was laying in that cage,” Jesse said softly. “I was laying there and after a while it was like the cold affected my brain or something and I could see things real clear. I saw what he did, what he was. And I saw what I did, really saw it.”
He looked at Louis. “I knew I was going to die but I saw it was, like okay, suddenly.” He shook his head slowly.
Louis looked up. “What?” he asked softly.
Jesse looked at him vacantly.
“That last word you said.”
Louis nodded. “Gibralter said that, in the woods.”
Jesse leaned back in the pillows with a tired sigh. “It’s Japanese.”
“What does it mean?”
“It’s how a samarai commits suicide, you know, when they ram their sword up into their guts? They do it as punishment, when they’ve dishonored themselves.”
The room was silent again. Louis rose and went to the window, staring out at the gray day.
“Jess, I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
Louis turned to face him. “Cole’s going public. He’s telling what he saw during the raid.”
Jesse kept his eyes locked on Louis for several seconds then lowered them.
“You’re going to lose your job, maybe worse,” Louis said.
Jesse was staring at his bandaged hands. Louis turned to the window again.
“Louis?”
He turned.
“Would you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Call Julie for me. Ask her to come over here.”
Louis nodded and moved toward the door.
“Louis?”
He turned again.
Jesse’s eyes were bright with tears. “You did the right thing.”
CHAPTER 44
He had to leave the Mustang at the bottom of the hill and walk the rest of the way up. When he reached the cabin, he paused.
What was he afraid of? That she would look different now? What was a woman supposed to look like after her husband was shot to death? Was he afraid of what she would say? What did a woman say to the man who had killed her husband?
He knocked. For a long time, there was no answer but then the door opened and she stood before him. Her eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight as she looked at him.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Zoe nodded and moved away. He came in and she closed the door. The drapes were closed, the lights low. As his eyes adjusted, he made out the cardboard boxes stacked near the door. The paisley sofa was gone, and most of the other furniture. He looked to the fireplace. The Manet print had been taken down.
“What’s going on?” he asked, turning to her.
“I’m closing the cabin,” she said.
“Why?”
She rubbed the sleeves of her baggy red sweater, looking around, at anything but him. “I don’t know. I don’t feel right here anymore.”
“Zoe…”
“Don’t call me that, please,” she said softly.
She moved away, going to a table to pick up some books. He watched her as she stacked them in a box. She moved slowly, as if something hurt deep in her bones. He heard a sound, a soft mewing and turned. Two animal carriers sat by the door. He could see the white cat behind the grating.
“You’re going away?” he asked. “Where?”
“Chicago.”
“When?”
Her eyes met his. “Tomorrow, after the funeral.”
“Zoe, we have to talk.”
Her eyes brimmed. “About what, Louis? What can we say to each other now?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She spun away, covering her face with her hands.
He was rooted to the floor by the sound of her crying. He wanted to hold her but he was afraid she would push him away.
“I don’t blame you,” she said.
He closed his eyes.
“Brian died a long time ago,” she said. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”
Louis took a quick step toward her, touched her arm but she pulled back. She wiped her face with her sleeve and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. She looked around the room, her eyes dark with fatigue and confusion.
“She’s gone,” she said softly.
Louis felt something cut into his chest. “Zoe…”
“I have to find her.”
She knelt to look under a chair then rose and pulled back the curtains. Louis watched her, suddenly afraid she was breaking down.
She looked up at him suddenly. “I can’t leave her here,” she said, her eyes bright with tears. “Help me find her, please.”
Suddenly, he understood. The other cat. She was looking for the other cat, the black one.
She went into the studio, calling her name. Louis drew in a slow breath and scanned the room, looking for the animal.
Zoe came back into the living room. “Isolde, I can’t find her,” she said, her eyes frantic.
“She’s here somewhere,” Louis said.
“I have to find her now. I’m leaving tomorrow, there’s no time. I have to go, I have to — ”
Louis grabbed her shoulder. “Zoe, stop. Come on, stop. Calm down.”
