Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

Fifty-Four

“But what if he’d shot you in the head?” Suit wanted to know.

“No great loss,” Molly said.

“Thank you, Molly,” Jesse said.

Molly, Suit, Gabe, and Jesse sat around the conference table after cleaning up the scene. It was two-forty-nine a.m. Elliott’s body had been taken away. Tate and Raney were in the county holding facility, officially someone else’s problem now. The news vans were long gone, although Ty Bentley told Jesse he wanted a full sit-down interview in the morning.

They’d found some stale donuts in a box on the table and ate them anyway. Sugar and starch were the best medicine for the inevitable adrenaline crash.

“Seriously,” Suit said. “How did you know he wouldn’t go for the head shot?”

“I kept drawing his attention to my chest. Tapping there, like it was a target. I didn’t know if it would work, but I couldn’t come in wearing a helmet.”

“You took an awfully big chance, Jesse,” Suit said, looking as mournful as a schoolkid who’d lost his homework. Jesse couldn’t help smiling at him.

“That’s the job,” he said.

“What I want to know is,” Molly said, “where the hell did you get all those phone books?”

“One of the clerks had them at the Staties’ evidence facility,” Suit said.

“From the Burton house?”

“No, he had a whole cabinet full of them. They’d been piling up for years, apparently, and he’d never gotten rid of them.”

“Maybe that guy is a bit of a hoarder himself,” Molly said.

“Well, I took them off his hands.”

“Pretty smart,” she said.

“I’m more impressed Jesse finally figured out how to work the conference-call feature on his phone,” Gabe said.

“Thank you, Gabe,” Jesse said.

“So where’s the money?” Molly asked.

“Still locked in the safe with the State Police,” Jesse said. “I knew it would be safer there.”

“You disobeyed a direct instruction from the mayor and the district attorney?” Molly said. “And their neat little court order?”

“Funny, they don’t seem to be worried about it now,” Jesse said. “They would rather believe they were in on the brilliant trap all along.”

“It does make them look smarter,” Suit said.

“I’m just glad I can finally stop sleeping in the cells,” Gabe said, “and wearing these stinking clothes as pajamas.”

“How did you get them to smell like that, anyway?” Molly asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Gabe said.

“Sure I do.”

“Well, I don’t want to tell you,” Gabe said. “You were right, Jesse. Leave a big enough piece of bait, and eventually the rats will show up.”

“It’s easy to be a genius in hindsight,” Jesse said, wincing a little as he took the wad of paper towels away from his face. They were bloody, but not soaked. He still felt something under his skin.

“You should get that looked at,” Molly said. “Don’t be such a tough guy.”

“You’re right,” Jesse said, and got up.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“To the ER,” Jesse said.

“Seriously? No fight? No manly grumbling about how it’s not that bad and you’ll be fine?”

“Not this time.”

“Maybe I should drive you,” Molly said. “It might be worse than it looks.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Jesse said.

Now Molly looked alarmed. “Holy crap, Jesse, are you dying?”

“Never a bad idea to ask for help now and then,” Jesse said. “By the way: Thank you all for being there when I needed you. I don’t say it enough. You’re good cops.”

Molly narrowed her eyes at him. “Okay, not dying. But definitely a blow to the head.”

Jesse smiled. “I’m sure I’ll get over it.”

“Now, that’s the Jesse Stone I know.”