Night Passage (A Jesse Stone Novel)

sat in Hasty’s car in the parking lot of the Northshore Shopping Center. The nose of the car pointed north so that the afternoon sun streamed in over Hasty’s shoulder and made him a dark silhouette as Burke turned in the seat to look at him.
    “Something will have to be done about Stone,” Burke said, squinting, trying to look at Hasty. But the sun was too fierce. Burke gave up and looked away.
    Hasty was silent.
    “He knows,” Burke said. “He knows I was in Denver. He knows more than that. Sonova bitch doesn’t say much, but he knows.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t say much because he doesn’t know,” Hasty said.
    “He knows,” Burke said. “We made a bad mistake with him.”
    “Mistakes are part of life,” Hasty said. “The important thing is to overcome them.”
    To Burke, Hasty’s voice seemed disembodied, coming as it did out of an unseeable place in the hard middle of the sun glare.
    “Well, we better overcome this one pretty quick,” Burke said. “Or he’s going to overcome us.”
    “What do you recommend?”
    “We have to kill him.”
    “The death of a second police chief from this town in less than a year?”
    “Better than having him take us all down,” Burke said. “We can find a way to cover it, an accident or something.”
    “All of us?” Hasty said.
    “Well, you know what I mean, he gets me, sooner or later he’ll get you, and … everybody.”
    “You are required in these circumstances to give only your name, rank, and serial number.”
    “For crissake, Hasty, I’m not a fucking prisoner of war.”
    “Of course you are. If our movement is about anything, it is about war with the forces of international mongrelization.”
    “I know,” Burke said. “I understand that. But they’re going to arrest me for murder, Hasty.”
    “What they do has no effect on what we know to be true,” Hasty said.
    “Hasty, I can’t afford theory right now. My ass is on the stove, you know? We need to get Stone out of the way.”
    In black silhouette Hasty nodded slowly.
    “To save us all,” Hasty said.
    “Absolutely,” Burke said.
    “What have ‘us all’ to do with your trip to Denver, Lou?”
    “Christ, Hasty. You sent me.”
    “To do what?”
    “To blow Tom Carson up.”
    “Because?”
    “Because he knew too much and you didn’t trust him to be quiet about it.”
    “Un huh.”
    There was silence in the car. Across the parking lot, people in bright fall clothing surged in and out of the vast mall. Shop early for Christmas. Take advantage of pre-holiday sales. No payments until January. Many of the people in the late-afternoon surge were teenaged mall rats. For them the mall had replaced playground, Boys Club, street corner, home. The new marketplace.
    “I wouldn’t tell them, of course,” Burke said. “But once they start they’re bound to find out.”
    “How?”
    “Well, I mean they investigate.”
    “What?”
    “Well, you know, they backtrack my story …”
    “And?”
    “And who the hell knows what physical evidence they have. Who knows what the Wyoming militia might tell them. They get somebody in jail they can squeeze them, make a deal, go easy on you if you give us the others, you know … I would never do that, but we don’t really know the Wyoming people.”
    “Yes,” Hasty said. “Of course. Who’s to do the killing?”
    “I figured you could get Jo Jo to do it. He’s got a mad on about Stone anyway.”
    “Well,” Hasty said. “I don’t know, Lou. I can promise at least to give it serious theoretical consideration.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “I’ll think about it, Lou. Meanwhile you sit still, and keep your mouth shut. Until you hear from me.”
    “We need to move fast,” Burke said.
    “I’m aware of that, Lou. And we will, but we will move with deliberate speed. I agree with you that we’ve underestimated Stone, and we don’t want to underestimate him further.”
    “Yeah, sure, Hasty. Just as long as we get him before he gets us.”
    “He won’t get us, Lou,” Hasty said. “You’re on suspension. Go home, sit in your house, stay there, and say nothing.”
    “I’m counting on you, Hasty,” Burke said.
    “Of course,” Hasty said.

61
     
    Jesse began reading Tammy’s diaries from the most recent entry back. It took him a day to reach the parts that seemed interesting, and yet another day to cut and paste them together into a narrative that he could study.
    May 11—Talked to Hasty Hathaway at the post