The Bitterest Pill

Twenty-three

Jesse usually liked to catch people he was questioning off guard, but the Mackeys had just buried their daughter and he didn’t suspect either of them of being involved in her death in any way. He had Molly call ahead to let them know he was coming.

“How did they sound, Molly?” he asked, calling her back as he turned the corner of their street.

“Not like I expected.”

“How do you mean?”

“Jesse, this may sound weird, but they almost sounded happy. Well, not happy exactly. Just...”

“Don’t struggle with it. I understand.”

“What do you understand?”

“Since the night Heather died, their lives have been filled up with grief, but also with plans and phone conversations, and people dropping by. Now the real mourning starts. Today is the day when it will hit them that they will never see their girl again. Today marks the day she will be dead forever. They’re thankful for anything that takes even a little of that sting away. And they don’t want to feel so helpless. They want to make her life worth something.”

“For such a self-contained, stoic bastard, Jesse Stone, you do know people.”

“Hard-learned lessons, Molly. Hard-learned.”

The Mackeys’ red front door pulled back even before Jesse had gotten halfway up the walk. He removed his hat before entering. There, Steve Mackey was waiting for him, shook Jesse’s hand, and thanked him for coming to all the services.

“She was a great girl, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

Fact was Jesse had barely known her, but this exchange between the selectman and Jesse was more ritual than anything else. What else would Jesse say? What else did a father want to hear? He took Jesse by the elbow and showed him into the kitchen, where Patti Mackey was fussing with the coffee machine. Steve Mackey gestured for Jesse to sit. He did. Mackey sat across from him. Patti offered him coffee.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

She put the cup in front of him and sat close to her husband, clutching his hand. She looked a wreck. Her red eyes were the least of it. For his part, Steve Mackey looked like he wanted to crumble but was holding it together for Patti... or not. It was just as likely, Jesse thought, Mackey was afraid of what would happen if he let himself go. Jesse understood that. He had let himself crack after Diana’s murder and it had nearly ruined him. He made a show of fixing up his coffee the way he liked it and making a satisfied sigh after taking a sip. Then he got to business.

“Thank you both for talking to me today.”

“We want to help,” Patti said, voice brittle.

“I know you do. Let me say that the best way you can help is to be totally honest with me. Nothing you say to me that might seem to shine a bad light on Heather will ever leave this room. The only thing I want is to not have to repeat this same conversation with someone else’s parents.”

Both the Mackeys nodded.

Jesse waited a full thirty seconds. He was curious to see if either Steve or Patti would offer something without prompting before he asked his questions. He got the sense that Patti might have had something to say, but in the end, neither spoke up.

“Okay. Did either one of you have any idea Heather had a drug problem?”

The question was greeted by silence. Again, Jesse sensed Patti had something to say. He made a mental note to circle back to Patti and speak to her without Steve present.

“I didn’t have a clue, Jesse. I swear to God,” Steve said. “I mean, who understands teenage girls? Was she moody sometimes? Sure she was. Could she be a pain? Yeah. But I couldn’t have asked for a better child.”

Jesse turned to the wife. “That the way you saw it, Patti? You were a teenage girl once.”

“Once,” she said, “a million years ago, before everyone had a cell phone. Before social media. Before...” Her voice drifted off. “It’s hard being a teenage girl, even a pretty one.”

“I heard Heather hurt her back during a routine at the Holiday Show. Did she see a doctor for treatment?”

“First we took her to Doc Goldfine,” Steve said. “He’d taken care of her since she was born.”

“Then he recommended we take her to a spine and back specialist, Dr. Nour at the hospital.”

“And?”

Steve Mackey raised his palms to the ceiling and shrugged. “Patti took her and dealt with it.”

“She did an MRI and found a few compressed vertebrae. She prescribed rest, massage, PT, and gave her something for the pain. Motrin, I think. Eight weeks later she was back at it, dancing, cheerleading, all as if she hadn’t been hurt in the first place.”

Jesse said, “I know Doc Goldfine, but could you give me a number for Dr. Nour?”

It went on like that for fifteen or twenty minutes. Everything according to Steve and Patti was fine up until the moment Patti found Heather unresponsive in her bed. Jesse thanked them and gave them the usual line about calling if there was anything else they could remember or if something had slipped their minds. But just as he was about to leave, he stopped.

“Did Heather ever mention a boy named Chris Grimm?”

Steve Mackey’s face was blank. It was clear to Jesse he had never heard the name before. “No, sorry. Should I know him?”

“Not necessarily,” Jesse said. “Patti?”

“No.”

Jesse knew she was lying. He also knew this wasn’t the time for accusations or to bring up the things Megan, Darby, and Richie had said about Heather stealing from them. He shook Steve Mackey’s hand, hugged Patti, and left, once again saying how sorry he was.

At the door of his Explorer he looked over the roof toward the Mackeys’ house and wondered again if Heather’s death would bind Steve and Patti together or blow them apart.