Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

68

Jesse and Healy paced in opposite directions along the floor in the waiting room, anxious for the doctors to give them something to hang their hats on. At least Suit had pretty quickly regained consciousness, though he wasn’t making any sense. He kept talking about Molly when Jesse asked him if Jameson had said anything of value on the ride up from Boston. Things weren’t looking as bright for Jameson. He was still unconscious when they wheeled him into the ER.

Healy said, “I’m sorry, Jesse. If I had left my man on the fisherman, this might—”

“Forget it. All your man would have done is follow him. He wouldn’t have known what Dragoa was going to do and he couldn’t have stopped it. How’s that thing in Framingham?”

Healy shook his head and made a sour face. “People are such idiots.”

“Really?”

“Sarcasm’s not usually your style, Jesse.”

“Sorry. Okay, I’ll bite. How are people idiots?”

“The wife put two high school kids up to it. They left a trail a blind man could have followed.”

“She sleeping with them?”

Healy nodded. “Of course. Here’s the sickest part. They were friends of her daughter.”

“It’s been done before,” Jesse said. “Old story.”

“Yeah, they made a movie about it with Cruise’s ex. You see it?”

“I like Westerns.”

“Don’t make many of those anymore.”

“There’s your answer, then.”

Healy changed subject. “You’re sure it was Dragoa?”

“It had to be Dragoa,” Jesse said, a bit of hesitation in his voice. “He did it in front of reporters, cameramen, and photographers. We’ve already got pictures of the truck, tag center of the frame. Trust me, that rusty old piece of crap he drives is unmistakable.”

“Then why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself instead of me?”

“Doesn’t figure, him doing it like that. It’s as good as a confession that he murdered the girls.”

Healy shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t figure, but he did try to run your man and this Jameson guy over. No denying that. He probably fell for all the crap you’ve been feeding the press. You say this Dragoa guy’s a real hothead and drinker, right?”

“Uh-huh. Major-league.”

“Okay, so he feels the walls closing in on him. He ties a big one on and loses it. Desperate people do desperately stupid things, Jesse. You know that. I’ve heard you say it.”

Jesse wasn’t convinced. The phone buzzed in his pocket before he could say so to Healy. It was Molly on the phone.

“We found Dragoa’s pickup in back of the Lobster Claw, but his boat’s gone.”

“I guess that seals it,” Jesse said, still sounding less than positive about it.

Molly heard it in his voice. “Come on, Jesse. How many people saw him do it? Anyway, how’s Suit?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“The other guy, Jameson?”

“Same. We don’t know. Listen, Molly, alert the Coast Guard and the staties’ marine unit.”

“Little boat, big ocean,” she said. “And Dragoa probably knows every cove and inlet from Maine to New Jersey.”

“He hasn’t had much lead time.”

“True. Okay, Jesse.”

“Molly.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why Suit would be muttering your name after Dragoa ran him down?”

She laughed. “Secret long-term crush?”

“No, that would be me, not Suit.”

“You’ll make me blush,” Molly said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

“So you have no clue about why Suit would be talking about you?”

“Sorry, Jesse.”

“One more thing. After you call the Coast Guard and the staties, have someone get the names of John Millner’s most recent cell mates. His alibi might be airtight, but I wonder if his old pals can account for their movements on the day of the fires. I think we need to have a talk with the ones that are on the outside.”

“Should be easy enough to get that info.”

“Thanks.”

When Jesse put the phone back in his pocket, Healy tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the doctor coming their way.