"That fucking Crow," Macklin said, staring out at the dark ocean.

"So," Jesse said, "I've got you."

Macklin looked back at Jesse.

"You might," Macklin said.

"It looks like you might."

"Hands behind your head," Jesse said again, no longer speaking softly.

Marcy was the strongest of the women. She reached shore first and stood in the knee-deep surf helping the others ashore. Agnes Till was the last one. Except for Marcy, the women collapsed onto the rocky beach above the water line. When she got Agnes ashore, she turned and looked at the dark forms in front of the restaurant.

"Jesse?" she said.

"I'm here," he said.

"Get on the ground and stay there until I tell you."

In front of the restaurant, Macklin began to back slowly away from Jesse.

"You know I fucked her?" Macklin said.

"That's your business," Jesse said, "and hers."

"Goddamned if Faye wasn't right," Macklin said.

He backed up a little more.

"Stand where you are," Jesse said.

"I don't mind shooting you."

Macklin stopped.

"You could at least make it sort of a sporting thing," Macklin said.

"I'm not a sporting guy," Jesse said.

"You holster your piece," Macklin said.

"We see who can draw and shoot quicker. Women can watch."

"Nope."

"Okay, just lower your piece. See if I can pull and shoot fast enough."

"Nope."

"You scared to play?"

"I don't need to play," Jesse said.

"That's all there is," Macklin said.

"Take a chance, Jesse. See what you got."

Jesse shrugged. , "I won't tell you again," Jesse said.

"Hands behind your head."

"I done time," Macklin said.

"I ain't doing more."

"Your choice," Jesse said.

Macklin's hand dropped to his holster, and Jesse put two rounds into Macklin's chest.

Macklin went down slowly as if the strength were draining away in stages. Jesse went over and took the half-drawn gun from Macklin's hand and tossed it away. Macklin's breath was irregular and growing more so. He swallowed repeatedly. Jesse knelt beside him. Macklin muttered something that Jesse could not hear. Jesse bent closer.

"Faye," Macklin said.

"I want Faye."

Jesse was aware of the women standing in a circle around him.

Despite what he'd told them, they had walked silently up behind him and now stood staring down at the men. The smell of gunpowder still hung on the salt air.

Jesse felt the big artery in Macklin's neck. There was still a pulse, and then there wasn't.

SIXTY-SIX.

Before she got into the big Coast Guard helicopter, Marcy Campbell put her arms around Jesse and held on to him as if there were a windstorm and he was a tree. Then she left him and got into the helicopter with the other women. They rose straight up and planed sideways and clattered over Paradise Harbor and landed on the high school football field, entering into an aurora of television lights and flashbulbs.

That was thirty-six hours ago and now having told everything she knew to Suitcase Simpson and the good-looking State Police SWAT team person, having been examined by a doctor, having showered and slept nearly eighteen hours, and showered again, and had some coffee, and orange juice, and eaten two soft boiled eggs and four slices of whole wheat toast with a butter substitute spray, she was waiting without much enthusiasm to do something she knew she had to do, without exactly understanding why she had to do it. She was sitting in a coffee shop in Government Center waiting to have lunch with Jenn Stone.

Marcy recognized her when she entered. She had made it a point to watch Jenn do the weather on Channel 3, and, while the forecast was laughable, she was as good-looking as Marcy had assumed. Several people recognized her as she came in, but if Jenn noticed she didn't let it show.

Marcy raised a hand as Jenn looked around the room, and Jenn saw her and came to the table.

"Hello," she said and put her hand out, "I'm Jenn."

"Marcy Campbell."

Jenn's grip was firm. Her body bespoke a personal trainer. Her hair was thick and intelligently cut. Her makeup was flawless. Her jewelry was quiet and expensive. The casual comfortable look of her clothes, Marcy knew, had cost her a lot of money. Jenn sat down opposite her, and Marcy knew she had taken the same inventory.

And Marcy realized suddenly that Jenn looked a little like her.

Younger. Probably better-looking, but Marcy could see that there was a resemblance. Jenn picked up the menu, a single mimeographed sheet of white paper.

"Have you ordered?"

"No, let's before we talk."

They were silent, briefly looking at the menu, and the waitress came and took their order. They both ordered a mixed green salad and a diet Coke, and they laughed at their common concern.

"It's a fight, isn't it?" Jenn said.

"You seem to be winning it," Marcy said.

Jenn smiled, comfortable with the compliment, accepting it as if it were expected.

The waitress reappeared with their salads and a bread basket.

"You wanted to talk about Jesse," Jenn said.

Marcy had thought about what to say since last night when she'd made her impulsive call. She had finally decided that she didn't know what to say and would wait and see what came out when the question was asked.

"Have you ever seen him at work?" was what came out.