56.

Molly lived close enough that she could walk to her home from Jesse’s condo. It was raining gently and darker than usual for the time of day in late summer. She had put a kerchief over her hair and wore a light yellow raincoat over her uniform. As she turned onto Munroe Street, Crow fell in beside her.

“Evening,” he said.

“Hello.”

“Who’s minding the kids?” Crow said.

“My mother,” Molly said. “My husband is in Newport.”

Why did I say that?

“Why?” Crow said.

“A boat he built got damaged in a storm,” Molly said. “The owner won’t let anyone else work on it.”

“Good at his work,” Crow said.

“Yes.”

Crow nodded. They passed the head of the wharf.

“Got time for a drink?” Crow said.

Molly paused. She felt it in her stomach and along her spine. She looked at her watch.

“Sure,” she said, and they turned onto the wharf and walked down to the Gray Gull.

“Bar or table?” Crow said.

“Damn,” Molly said. “I’m in uniform.”

“Leave the raincoat on,” Crow said. “Who will know.”

Molly nodded.

“Table,” she said.

Crow nodded and pointed at a table, and the young woman doing hostess duty led them to it. Molly ordered a vodka gimlet; Crow had Maker’s Mark on the rocks.

“How many kids have you?” Crow said.

“Four.”

“They okay?”

“Sometimes I think no kids are okay, but they’re as okay as anyone else’s kids.”

“Husband?”

“It’s a good marriage,” Molly said.

So what am I doing here?

“How’s the Francisco kid?”

“A mess,” Molly said. “If she were mine, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“If she were yours,” Crow said, “she’d be different.”

Molly nodded.

“Probably,” Molly said. “You married?”

“I’m not here to talk about me,” Crow said.

“Even if I want to?”

“I don’t talk about me,” Crow said.

“So…” Molly paused.

Do I want to go this way?

“So,” Molly started again. “What are we here to talk about?”

Crow smiled.

“Sex,” he said.

She felt herself clench for a moment and release.

This is crazy. The man is a stone killer.

“What aspect of sex did you have in mind?” Molly said.

“You and me, once, no strings,” Crow said.

Molly met his gaze. They were silent for a moment.

Then Molly said, “Why?”

“We both want to,” Crow said.

“You’re so sure of me?” Molly said.

“Yes.”

“How can you know?”

Crow grinned at her.

“It’s an Apache thing,” he said.

“And my husband?”

“You’ll continue to love him, and the kids,” Crow said.

Molly sipped her gimlet.

My God!

“You ever sleep with an Indian?” Crow said.

“No.”

Crow grinned again.

“And I never slept with a cop,” he said.

“And would we do this where?” Molly said. “Behind the lobster pots? In the car?”

“Sea Spray Inn,” Crow said. “I have a suite.”

Molly nodded.

“Would you like to have dinner and think about it?” Crow said.

Molly shook her head slowly. She was aware of her breathing. Aware of her pulse. Looking straight at Crow, she took a long, slow breath. She let it out slowly. Then she smiled.

“I prefer to eat afterwards,” she said.

Crow nodded. He took a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and put it on the table. Then they stood up and left.


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