'You know… what'll… happen me… in jail.'
I nodded.
Felton looked down at the roiling water among the rocks.
'If… I jump… you… stop me?'
I shook my head. I looked down at the water.
'Should take you a while to die, though,' I said.
Felton's breath was starting to come back. The crying hadn't stopped, but, because he could breathe a little easier, it didn't seem as frantic. He was looking at me now, his eyes a little more focused.
'I'm crazy, you know?' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
'They'll put me in Bridgewater or someplace,' he said. 'They'll help me.'
'Probably,' I said. 'I think they got seven hundred inmates and one shrink at Bridgewater. Might be a little different from the help you're used to.'
The spray was kicking higher as the tide rose. I was damp with it. My hair was flat to my skull, my face was wet. My breathing was nearly normal and my heart rate was back under a hundred and I felt the easy passage of blood in my veins. Couple of cold beers would be grand right now, maybe a friendly chat with someone who hadn't murdered four women.
Behind me, from the park, someone with a bullhorn said, 'This is the Lynn Police, do you need assistance?'
I raised my hand without looking around and waved them away.
'It was her,' Felton said. 'She made me like this. I had to be like this.'
I shrugged.
'Come on,' I said. 'We gotta go.'
'I can't,' Felton said.
'I'll help you,' I said.
I stepped toward him and took his arms and pulled him from the rock. His legs gave way and he sagged. I slid my arms under his arms and around his back and held him up. He sagged toward me and buried his face in my chest and began to cry harder. His arms went around me and held me and he was saying something muffled against my chest. I listened harder.
'Papa,' he sobbed. 'Papa.'
I held him there for a long time, feeling pity and revulsion in nearly equal parts, until two Lynn cops climbed out and the three of us brought him in.
Susan was eating sushi in the new Suntory restaurant in Boston. She ate it with chopsticks, managing them as easily as I did the fork I'd had to request.
'Jesus,' I said, 'that fish isn't even cooked.'
'Shall I send it back?' Susan said.
I was having some vegetable tempura, and the house beer.
'Best not to offend the chef,' I said. 'He's still got to cook my shrimp.'
'Okay,' Susan said. 'Then I'll choke it down.'
She took a small sip of saki. Then she gestured with the cup. 'Marathon man,' she said. And smiled.
'The race goes not always to the swift,' I said.
'I've seen you shoot,' Susan said. 'You could have shot him as he ran.'
'Probably,' I said. 'Pretty sure I could have hit him when he climbed the rocks.'
'But you didn't,' she said.
I shrugged. Susan smiled a little wider.
'I know why you didn't,' she said.
'Yeah?'
I ate some more tempura, unashamedly, with my fork.
'The first time you chased him he outran you and got away,' Susan said.
'Well, there was this fence,' I said.
'And this time,' Susan said, 'you were going to chase him and catch him.'
'To even it up?' I said. 'Come, now. Doesn't that sound pretty childish?'
'Absolutely,' Susan said.
