71.
At seven minutes past ten a new Nissan Quest picked its way through the narrowed construction lane.
In the van, Crow said, “That’s Esteban driving.”
“Let the van through,” Jesse said on the radio. And Buddy Hall waved it on. It drove on across the causeway and disappeared around the bend.
“Peter,” Jesse said into the radio, “a maroon Nissan Quest.”
“Got it,” Peter Perkins said. “It just U-turned and parked near the causeway.”
Into the radio Jesse said, “Corporal Jenks? You standing by?”
“We’re here,” Jenks said.
At 10:23 Steve Friedman said on the radio, “Two Lincoln Town Cars coming down Beach Street. Right plate numbers.”
“Okay,” Jesse said. “Buddy, you hold them at the barrier. First in line.”
“Roger,” Buddy said.
“Murph,” Jesse said. “Pull the backhoe in front of the van.”
“Okay,” Paul Murphy’s voice came over the radio.
The backhoe edged in front of the van. Jesse looked at Crow. Crow looked back. Jesse nodded once. Crow nodded back. Then, shielded from the street by the backhoe, Crow stepped out of the van and started out along the causeway with his hood up against the rain. It was 10:26. The first of the two Lincolns pulled to a stop at the barrier just out of sight of the causeway. The passenger-side window went down.
“What’s the holdup, Officer?” Francisco said.
“Just a minute, sir,” Buddy said. “Gotta clear the other end. You’ll be on your way in a jiffy.”
At 10:28 Crow was leaning on the seawall at the spot where the Amber dummy had been concealed on the other side. The rain made everything slightly murky.
“Jesse,” a voice said on the radio, “Peter Perkins on the Neck. A guy got out of the Quest and walked down to the bend where he could see the causeway. He’s coming back now, walking fast…. He’s getting in the van. They’ve left the slider open on the driver’s-side backseat.”
“You hear this, Crow?” Jesse said.
Crow’s voice was muffled a little because the mike was inside the sweatshirt.
“Got it,” he said.
“Van’s under way,” Perkins said.
Jesse looked at his watch.
“Get ready, Buddy,” he said into the mike. “Seven seconds, six, five, four, three, two, one, send the Lincoln.”
Buddy Hall stepped aside and waved the two Lincolns onto the causeway. Jesse jumped from the van and sprinted to his car parked in the beach parking lot right at the causeway. He could make Crow out through the rain, leaning against the seawall. The Quest was almost there. Suddenly Crow rolled up and over the seawall and Jesse heard the boom of a shotgun. Boom, boom, boom, in rapid sequence. Christ, he thought, a street sweeper. Boom, boom, boom. No sign of Crow. Then there was a flash of color at the seawall, and what seemed to be the body of a young woman appeared above the seawall and fell forward onto the causeway. Jesse put the car in gear and headed toward the scene. In front of him the two Lincolns spun sideways in the road and men with guns were out of both cars, shooting. Jesse turned on his lights and siren. Steve and Bobby behind him did the same, and from the Neck end of the causeway came Eddie Cox and John Maguire and Peter Perkins with the lights flashing and the sirens wailing.
In Jesse’s earphone Corporal Jenks said, “Jesse, you need us?”
“Block the causeway by the beach,” Jesse said. “And hold there. Nobody on or off.”
“Roger.”
Jesse got to the shoot-out first. The patrol cars from both ends of the causeway arrived right after he did at the shooting scene and swerved sideways to block the causeway. Jesse got out of his car, shielded by the open door. He had a shotgun. Most of the shooting stopped when the police arrived. Except the man with the street sweeper. From the van, the street sweeper kept firing toward the seawall. A tall, straight-backed man with salt-and-pepper hair walked from behind the lead Lincoln to the Quest, as if he was taking a walk in the rain. He fired through the open side door of the Quest with a handgun. After a moment a shotgun with a big round drum came rattling out onto the street. Behind it came the shooter, who fell beside the gun onto the street and didn’t move. The Paradise police ranged on both sides of the shoot-out, standing with shotguns, behind the cars. At the mainland end of the causeway, State Police cars blocked the road.
“Police,” Jesse said. “Everybody freeze.”
The tall, straight man looked at the scene, and without expression dropped his handgun. The other men followed his lead. Jesse walked to the tall man.
“You Romero?” Jesse said.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Jesse Stone.”
“I know who you are,” Romero said.
“You know him?” Jesse said, looking down at the dead man in the street.
“Esteban Carty,” Romero said to Jesse.
“No loss,” Jesse said. “You are all under arrest. Please place your hands on top of the car nearest you and back away with your legs spread.” Jesse smiled slightly. “I bet most of you know how it’s done.”
Louis Francisco got out of his car and walked unarmed to the motionless Amber dummy in the street. He knelt down in the rain and looked at it and turned it over. He looked at it for a while, then he stood and looked over the seawall, and finally turned and looked at Jesse. His face showed nothing.
“I wish to speak with my attorney,” he said without inflection.
Jesse nodded. Everyone was quiet. The only sounds were the movement of the ocean, and the sound of the rain falling, under the low, gray sky.
There is no quiet quite like the one that follows gunfire.