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21

THEY TOLD ME she'd been brainwashed by a cult," Sunny Randall said, "when they hired me."

She sat beside Jesse in the front seat of Jesse's car as they drove southbound on Route 128.

"And that they wanted me to find her and talk to her and, if possible, bring her home."

"So you went to visit," Jesse said.

"I did," Sunny said.

"And you found something less than Charles Manson and friends," Jesse said.

"You've talked with the Patriarch person?" Sunny said.

"Yes."

"The whole operation seems to me about as sinister as a Brownie troop," Sunny said.

"Less," Jesse said.

"You're right," Sunny said. "I never liked all that scouting crap, either."

"And the kid didn't want to leave," Jesse said.

"No."

"So I said maybe I could bring Mom and Dad," Sunny said. "And the kid laughed."

"But you tried," Jesse said.

"I did. I told them it seemed very unsinister, and maybe if they saw it…"

"What did they say?"

"They weren't interested. Their name isn't DeMarco, by the way. They changed it to Markham."

"Sounded more Concordian?" Jesse said.

"Yes. Elsa said DeMarco was too North End."

"But the kid is keeping her birth name," Jesse said.

"Guess so," Sunny said. "They'll never let me in, or you, either, if I'm with you. You don't have much official standing here."

"I've arranged for a Concord police detective to go with us, sort of disarm the matter of jurisdiction," Jesse said.

"No wonder you made chief," Sunny said.

"I made chief because the selectmen at the time wanted a drunk they could control," Jesse said.

"They erred," Sunny said.

"They got the drunk part right," Jesse said. "I guess they were a little off on the control part… so far."

"Well, aren't we down on ourselves today," Sunny said. "Want to share?"

Jesse didn't answer for a time. They reached Route 2 and turned west toward Concord.

"The night Knocko Moynihan got shot they couldn't find me. I was passed out dead drunk at home."

Sunny nodded.

"You know what set you off?" she said.

"Maybe I'm just a drunk," Jesse said.

"Whatever you are, Jesse," Sunny said, "you are not just a drunk."

Jesse shrugged.

"What's Dix say?"

"You think I told him?"

"Of course you told him," Sunny said. "What's he for?" Jesse nodded slowly.

"We're working on that question," Jesse said.

" 'What he's for?' "

"No," Jesse said. "We're working on what set me off."

"Is it okay now," Sunny said. "I mean, in town?"

"Yes," Jesse said. "Molly and Suit covered for me. Said I was out of town at the time, an issue with my ex-wife."

"And the selectmen bought it?"

"They did," Jesse said. "They're not the smartest three guys in town."

"If they were," Sunny said, "they probably wouldn't be spending time as selectmen."

"Good point," Jesse said.

They paused behind several other cars at a stoplight at the juncture with Route 2A's bypass, where Route 2 took a sharp turn southwest.

"But you must feel lousy about it," Sunny said.

"Yes."

"Ashamed," Sunny said.

"Yes."

"Had a drink since?" Sunny said.

"No."

"Miss it?"

Jesse nodded.

"Yes," he said.

"I don't think you're an alcoholic, Jesse," Sunny said. "I think you like to drink. I think when you're unhappy it helps you feel better. But I don't think you have to stop. I think you could drink in moderation if you get your, for lack of a better description, psyche settled."

The light changed. Jesse drove across the intersection and into Concord.

"I'll work on it," he said.

"I know you will," Sunny said.

They were quiet until they reached the Concord police station. Jesse pulled in and parked. Then he turned and put his hand on Sunny's thigh.

"Thank you," he said.

Sunny put her hand over his and smiled.

"You're welcome," she said.