“When?”

“I’m not sure. About a month ago, I think.”

“Do you know where Sean went to school?”

“Neumann,” Patrice said.

Jessica made notes. Her pad was getting wet. She put it in her pocket. “Did they break up?”

“Yeah,” Patrice said. “Tessa was pretty upset.”

“What about Sean? Did he have a temper?”

Patrice just shrugged. In other words, yes, but she didn’t want to get anybody in trouble.

“Did you ever see him hurt Tessa?”

“No,” Patrice said. “Nothing like that. He was just... just a guy.You know.”

Jessica waited for more. More was not forthcoming. She moved on. “Can you think of anyone Tessa didn’t get along with? Anyone who might have wanted to do her harm?”

This question started the waterworks again. Both girls began to cry, wiping at their eyes. They shook their heads.

“Was she seeing anyone else after Sean? Anyone who might have been bothering her?”

The girls thought for a few seconds, and again shook their heads in unison.

“Did Tessa ever see Dr. Parkhurst at school?”

“Sure,” Patrice said.

“Did she like him?”

“I guess.”

“Did Dr. Parkhurst ever see her outside of school?” Jessica asked. “Outside?”

“As in socially.”

“What, like a date or something?” Patrice asked. She screwed up her face at the idea of Tessa dating a man as ancient as thirty or so. As if. “Uh, no.”

“Do you guys ever go to him for guidance counseling?” Jessica asked.

“Sure,” Patrice said. “Everybody does.”

“What sorts of things do you talk about?”

Patrice thought about it for a few seconds. Jessica could see that the girl was concealing something. “School, mostly. College apps, SATs, stuff like that.”

“Ever talk about anything personal?”

Eyes earthward. Again.

Bingo, Jessica thought.

“Sometimes,” Patrice said.

“What sort of personal things?” Jessica asked, recalling Sister Mercedes, the guidance counselor at Nazarene when she attended. Sister Mercedes was built like John Goodman and had a perpetual scowl. The only personal thing you talked about with Sister Mercedes was your promise not to have sex until you were forty.

“I don’t know,” Patrice said, getting interested in her shoes again. “Stuff.”

“Did you talk about the boys you were seeing? Things like that?”

“Sometimes,” Ashia answered.

“Did he ever ask you to talk about things that you found embarrassing? Or maybe a little bit too personal?”

“I don’t think so,” Patrice said. “Not that I can, you know, remember.”

Jessica could see that she was losing her. She pulled out a pair of business cards and handed one each to the two girls. “Look,” she began. “I know this is tough. If you think of anything that can help us find the guy who did this, give us a call. Or if you just want to talk. Whatever. Okay? Day or night.”

Ashia took the card, remained silent, the tears building again. Patrice took the card, nodded. In unison, like synchronized mourners, the two girls lifted the balled tissues in their hands and dabbed at their eyes.

“I went to Nazarene,” Jessica added.

The two girls looked at each other, as if she had just told them she had once attended the Hogwart School.

“Seriously?” Ashia asked.

“Sure,” Jessica said. “Do you guys still carve stuff under the stage in the old auditorium?”

“Oh yeah,” Patrice said.

“Well, if you look right under the newel post on the stairs leading under the stage, on the right-hand side, there is a carving that reads jg and bb 4ever.”

“That was you?” Patrice looked quizzically at the business card.

“I was Jessica Giovanni then. I carved that in tenth grade.”

“Who was BB?” Patrice asked.

“Bobby Bonfante. He went to Father Judge.”

The girls nodded. Father Judge boys were, for the most part, pretty irresistible.

Jessica added: “He looked like Al Pacino.”

The two girls glanced at each other, as if to say: Al Pacino? Isn’t he, like, grandpa old? “Is that the old guy who was in The Recruit with Colin Farrell?” Patrice asked.

“A young Al Pacino,” Jessica added.

The girls smiled. Sadly, but they smiled.

“So did it last forever with Bobby?” Ashia asked.

Jessica wanted to tell these young girls that it never does. “No,” she said. “Bobby lives in Newark now. Five kids.”

The girls nodded again in deep understanding of love and loss. Jessica had them back. Time to cut it off. She’d take another run at them later.

“By the way, when do you guys get off for Easter break?” Jessica asked.

“Tomorrow,” Ashia said, her sobs all but dried.

Jessica flipped up her hood. The rain had already ruined whatever style her hair had held, but now it was starting to come down hard.

“Can I ask you something?” Patrice asked.

“Sure.”

“Why...why did you become a cop?”

Even before Patrice’s question, Jessica had a feeling that the girl was going to ask her that. It still didn’t make the answer any easier. She wasn’t entirely sure herself. There was legacy; there was Michael’s death. There were reasons even she didn’t know yet. In the end she said, modestly: “I like to help people.”

Patrice dabbed her eyes again. “Does it ever, you know, creep you out?” she asked. “You know, to be around...”

Dead people, Jessica finished, in her mind. “Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes.”

Patrice nodded, finding common ground with Jessica. She pointed at Kevin Byrne, sitting in the Taurus across the street. “Is he your boss?”

Jessica looked over, looked back, smiled. “No,” she said. “He’s my partner.”