“How do you suppose this happened,” Suitcase said.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Suitcase looked at him.
“Crow?”
“Beats me.”
“You’re not telling me, right?”
“How could you think such a thing,” Jesse said.
—
Only after Rooney had been sedated, strapped onto a gurney, and lifted into the ambulance did Jesse punch a number into his phone.
Captain Healy answered.
“You can tell your friend that a certain person of interest will arrive at Paradise General in about ten minutes,” Jesse said.
“Say that again.”
“We found Ryan Rooney. He’s on his way to the hospital.”
“Was he wounded?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He was the victim of a vicious ant attack.”
“Ants?”
“Red ones. Lots of them.”
“In Massachusetts?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Infestations of red ants have been part of the ecological systems not only of Massachusetts, but of most of New England and southeast Canada since the early 1900s.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“You could look it up.”
Healy was quiet for a few moments. “Crow, right?”
“Beats me.”
“Red ants?”
“Nasty ones,” Jesse said.
“Had to have been Crow.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Healy sighed. “I’ll inform Wellstein,” he said.
“Excellent idea,” Jesse said.
54
It was all over the evening news. Special Agent Lucas Wellstein stood before the microphones in front of Paradise General Hospital, fielding questions from reporters and newscasters.
He credited the FBI with the arrest and thanked Captain Healy for his assistance. He made no mention of Jesse.
The case took off when cell-phone photos and videos began to appear on TMZ and other websites, showing Ryan Rooney being carried from the ambulance.
Close-up shots revealed a face rendered all but unrecognizable by vivid red welts. He seemed incoherent and appeared to be sobbing.
The coverage went viral, raising questions as to exactly what had happened to him. The press and the public couldn’t get enough of the story. Soon the tabloids were screaming cover-up.
Jesse watched it all on the TV in Frankie Greenberg’s room, enjoying himself immensely. Hank Greenberg watched with him.
Frankie remained unconscious.
When the footage of Ryan arriving at the hospital appeared once again, Jesse smiled.
When he looked over at her, he saw that Frankie’s eyes were open.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself,” she said hoarsely.
She looked around.
“Daddy?”
Hank hurried to her bedside. He held her in his arms. He was unable to control his tears.
“Welcome back, honey,” he said.
55
Jesse pushed past the media barrage outside of the station. Lucas Wellstein was waiting for him in his office.
“I’m getting slammed,” Lucas said.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“There’s a media backlash stemming from those damned cell-phone pictures. Everyone’s clamoring for information about why Rooney looked the way he did.”
Jesse remained silent.
“Just what went down out there,” Wellstein said.
“You mean what happened to him?”
“Yes.”
“Looks like he passed out and fell on top of an anthill.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Stone.”
“Why, whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I think,” Wellstein said.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I think you and that damned Indian set him up.”
“Why would you think that?”
“When did you learn he was out there?”
“I received an anonymous phone call saying that someone was in the woods, screaming his head off. I investigated and found Mr. Rooney. I called for backup, then phoned Captain Healy and asked him to inform you.”
“Bullshit,” Wellstein said.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I could have your balls for this.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What makes you so sure of yourself?”
“Your job is to quell the media furor. Exacerbating it would be a bad idea.”
“So you set me up, too.”
“I’m just a small-town cop. Mostly I write parking tickets.”
“You’re so full of shit, Stone.”
“Was there anything else?”
“No.”
Jesse stood.
“I’ll refrain from voicing my entire opinion, Agent Wellstein, but suffice it to say, I think you’re a disgrace to
