Fool Me Twice (18 page)

A squad car and an ambulance pulled into the clearing.

The two EMTs used an antiseptic spray on Rooney, who continued his grotesque dance until the last of the ants either dropped off or died.

Then he fell to the ground and began to sob.

Suitcase Simpson, who had been in the lead car with Arthur Angstrom, stood beside Jesse, taking it all in.

“Ryan Rooney?”

“That would be he,” Jesse said.

“Will I be taking him into custody?”

“You will.”

“Should I read him his rights?”

“I already did.”

“While he was screaming?”

“Between screams.”

“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.

—

O
nly 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  

I
t 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  

J
esse 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 your service.”

“Like I give a rat’s ass what you think.”

“A wise man once told me that people generally behave in the same manner toward everyone. You might want to consider the trails that you’re blazing, Wellstein. You meet the same people on the way down as you met on the way up, if you get my drift.”

Jesse walked over and opened the door.

“Happy trails, pardner,” he said.

—

R
ita Fiore on line two,” Molly said.

Jesse picked up the call.

“Rita?”

“We’ll take it,” she said.

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“We want to interview Goodwin as soon as we can. Once that’s done, we’ll file a motion to set bail. If it’s okay with you, my associate and I would like to head up to Paradise now.”

“Okay.”

Rita didn’t say anything.

After a moment, Jesse said, “Why?”

“Why did we take the case?”

“Yes.”

“Obviously we’ll know more once we’ve had a look at the paperwork and conducted some interviews, but let’s just say that we’re intrigued. We also have interest in the climate issue. We appreciate Mr. Goodwin’s concerns about the worldwide water crisis. Regardless of the outcome, Cone, Oakes looks at this case as a means of further advancing the cause for reconsideration of this issue. We expect that the case will generate a fair amount of media attention.”

“Which is why you decided to take it?”

“Partly. Yes.”

“You lawyers are a strange lot.”

“Tell me about it,” she said.

—

T
he firm of Cone, Oakes, and Baldwin has agreed to handle your case,” Jesse said to William J. Goodwin.

“Why would they do that,” Goodwin said.

“You’ll have to ask them yourself. Rita Fiore is on her way here now.”

“Will she get us out of jail,” Ida Fearnley said.

“After she has a better handle on each of your stories, I believe she’ll seek bail.”

“What do you mean,” Goodwin said.

“I’m a cop, not a lawyer. But it’s my understanding that after she interviews each of you, she’ll petition the court on your behalf.”

“To get us out of here,” Ida said.

“Yes.”

They were all silent for a while.

“I’ve heard of this Rita Fiore,” Goodwin said. “She’s supposedly quite good.”

“You need someone quite good,” Jesse said.

“So I realize,” Goodwin said.

  56  

I
t’s Rita,” Molly said.

Jesse picked up the call.

“They made bail,” Rita said.

“So they’ll be getting out?”

“As soon as possible. Can I ask a dumb question?”

“Will it be a hard dumb question?”

“He’s strange, isn’t he?”

“Why would you say that?”

“He was surprisingly evasive. I told him we’d need access to his financial records. Also we’d need to interview the officials at state who refused to speak with him.”

“And?”

“Maybe it’s just me, but he seemed peeved.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“It’s probably just me. In any event, they’re getting out. He ponied up bail for the three of them. I’ve made an appointment with him for tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ve got my associate and my investigator swarming all over it. We’ll see what they uncover.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“I’ve got goose bumps, Jesse,” Rita said.

“Goose bumps?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m hoping it’s not because someone’s walking on my grave,” she said.

—

Y
ou ever been to Daisy’s,” Jesse said.

He pulled his cruiser into traffic and headed west. Courtney was sitting beside him.

“What’s Daisy’s?”

“Only the finest diner in all the land.”

“Yeah, right,” Courtney said.

“You’ll see.”

They were silent until Jesse pulled into Daisy’s lot and parked.

“Voilà,” he said.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s time for lunch.”

“What if I don’t want lunch?”

“You don’t really have a choice.”

She looked at Jesse.

He got out of the cruiser. After a moment, Courtney got out as well. They went inside.

Daisy showed them to a booth and offered them menus, but Jesse waved her off.

“Two turkey burgers with cheese, sweet-potato fries, and at least one vanilla shake. Courtney, this is Daisy. Daisy, Courtney.”

“Hi, Courtney,” Daisy said.

“Hi.”

“You gonna join the big guy and accessorize your burger with one of my famous shakes, guaranteed to clog your arteries and do serious damage to your heart?”

Courtney smiled.

“Does it come in chocolate?”

“Does the Pope wear a cassock,” Daisy said.

“Chocolate.”

Daisy smiled at them.

“Two health-food specials,” she called out to the chef.

Then she walked away.

Courtney looked around.

“This is okay,” she said.

“Surprising you haven’t been here before.”

“My parents would never come to a place like this.”

“Why not?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

She scanned the crowded restaurant.

“Is Daisy a friend of yours?”

“She is. I was the first one in line on the day she opened.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She’s been clogging my arteries for nearly five years now.”

“I still don’t know why you’re taking me to lunch,” she said.

“Everybody’s gotta eat lunch. Particularly if they’re performing physical labor.”

Daisy returned with the burgers and shakes.

“If need be,” she said, “I can have EMTs here within minutes.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Jesse said.

He topped his burger with ketchup, mustard, onions, relish, and hot sauce. Courtney stared at him, wide-eyed.

“You’re going to eat that,” she said.

Jesse smiled and took a huge bite. He chewed it contentedly.

“You just going to stare at yours,” he said between bites.

She gingerly put some ketchup on her burger and took a bite. Then she took another.

“This is pretty good,” she said.

“Best turkey burger in Massachusetts.”

They ate in silence for a while.

“Are you watching the playoffs,” Jesse said.

“What playoffs?”

“The baseball playoffs.”

“Ugh.”

“You mean you don’t like baseball?”

“I don’t like sports.”

“What do you like?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what you like?”

After a few moments, Courtney said, “I like to read.”

“Read as in books?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“What do I like to read?”

“Yes.”

“I like Margaret Mead.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“I like
Coming of Age in Samoa
. I mean, she was real young and she left home and went to live in a wild place and studied all kinds of different people. I think that’s so cool.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. She was awesome.”

They finished their lunches and pushed their plates away.

“Good,” Jesse asked.

“Really good,” Courtney said.

Afterward, they climbed back into the cruiser and headed for the station.

Jesse stopped only once to ticket an illegally parked Mercedes. Then he got back in the cruiser.

“I love to nail a Mercedes,” he said.

“Why?”

“The parking ticket is a great equalizer. Rich or poor, you gotta pay it.”

“My mom says poor people don’t drive Mercedes.”

“Not usually, no.”

“So it’s a rich person who just got the ticket?”

“More than likely, yeah. Rich people hate having to pay tickets.”

She thought about that for a while.

Jesse dropped her off at the station. She got out of the cruiser, then looked back at him through the open window.

“You gonna tell me why?”

“Why we had lunch?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to be spending some time together over the next few months, and I thought it would benefit us both if we explored our human sides.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m the police chief and you’re a detainee. Technically we’re on opposite sides of the law. But if we get to know each other, we might think of ourselves more as people and less as antagonists.”

Courtney was quiet.

“Understanding each other will make both of us less defensive and more receptive to the other’s ideas and opinions.”

“You’re a funny guy, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told. See you next week.”

She watched as he drove away.

  57  

R
ita Fiore’s silver Lexus convertible was parked in front of the footbridge. Jesse got out of his cruiser and walked over to it. He found Rita sitting inside. She lowered the driver’s-side window.