Trouble in Paradise

"Molly, the bridge is gone. Everybody there?"

"Everybody but Eddie Cox," Molly said.

"His wife says he's out shopping. I left a message."

"Send a couple of guys down here to secure the place from the tourists. You hear from Pope and Sears?"

"Will do, Jesse. No response from Pope and Sears."

"Okay," Jesse said.

"Send me two guys to secure this end of the bridge. Everyone else stand by at the station."

"Will do, Jesse. What do I tell Betty Pope and Kim Sears if they call?"

"Tell them what we know, Molly. Don't speculate. Tell them I see no sign of them, and you can't raise them on the radio, and people report a police car was on the bridge when it blew."

"That's going to be pretty hard to hear, Jesse."

"I know. Refer them to me if you'd rather."

"No, you got enough, Jesse. If they call, I'll talk with them. What happened?"

"Don't know. The only odd thing is there's maybe a dozen people down here already milling around looking at the wreckage."

"That's not odd," Molly said.

"Yeah. But there's no one at the other side. Not even the guy from the guard shack. Anything yet from the Stiles Island Patrol?"

"No. Want me to call the Statics yet?"

"You better, at least give them a heads up."

"Okay, Jesse. John and Arthur are on the way in a cruiser."

"Thanks, Molly. I'll get back to you."

Jesse sat back and thought about Wilson Cromartie, who preferred to be called Crow. And James Macklin of Dorchester, who had flirted with him not very long ago. He stared at the debris washed by the rough water against the near shore. And he knew, as if he'd seen them, that Macklin and Cromartie were on Stiles Island. It was what exactly he was supposed to do about it that still needed work.

FIFTY-FOUR.

The bank employees were herded into one corner of the vault, and half the safe deposit boxes had been opened when Macklin heard the bridge explode. He looked at Crow. Crow continued to take everything out of the open security box and dump it into his duffel bag. He dropped the key into the open box, took another key from his pocket and with the bank manager supplying the second key, opened the next box. Macklin's cell phone rang. = "Yeah."

"JD, Fran had to blow the bridge."

"I know, I heard it. It'll happen just like I said. They'll mill around for a while. Then they'll get a boat and come to the yacht club landing. When they get about halfway there, Fran will blow it."

"What do you want me to do?"

"What did I tell you to do, JD?"

"After Fran blows the boat landing, I call you and wait for instructions."

"Good, JD, you and Fran come to the bank. Help us load."

"Should we leave the bridge unguarded?"

"The bridge is gone isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then you don't need to guard it. And after Fran blows the boat landing, you won't need to guard it. Only way they can get to us is with a chopper, and it'll take some time for them to round one up.

Am I going too fast for you, JD?"

"No, I'm just being careful."

"You were careful you'd be down home drinking bourbon and Coca-Cola. Just do what I tell you."

"What do I do with the broad?" JD said.

"Leave her there, we got no need for her."

"Maybe we'll need a hostage," JD said.

Macklin smiled.

"JD wonders if we need a hostage," Macklin said to Crow.

"Tell him not to think anymore," Crow said, without looking up from the lock boxes.

"Crow says don't think anymore," Macklin said.

"I was just..."

"JD, the whole fucking island is a hostage. We don't need to lug one around with us."

"Didn't you tell me she's the chief's girlfriend? It might help if we hung on to her."

"It might," Macklin said.

"Go ahead and bring her." He broke the co

In the real estate office, JD stared at the silent cell phone.

"Prick," he said.

Marcy sat quietly behind her desk. Her hands folded on top of it. She could see that JD was tense. His movements were stiff and too quick. He stared out the window. Fran was walking back toward them from the wreckage of the bridge.

"Okay," JD said.

"You're going with us."

"Where?" Marcy's voice rasped, and she cleared her throat.

She'd heard JD's end of the conversation.

"Just get in the fucking car, lady. I got no time to explain things."

"I'm not really the chief's girlfriend," Marcy said. Her voice was still raspy. She couldn't seem to get it clear.

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

Marcy didn't answer. JD gestured at her with his handgun.

"Come on," JD said.

"Get in the car."

FIFTY-FIVE.

It was an overcast day, and the water in the harbor was darker than the sky. Jesse was onboard the town boat with Suitcase Simpson, Anthony De Angelo and Peter Perkins. Simpson, De Angelo and Perkins wore vests and carried shotguns. lesse had neither. Phil Winslow, the harbor master, held the boat at an angle across the chop, steering for the yacht club landing dock that jutted out into the harbor.

"Only place I can put you ashore, Jesse," Winslow said.

"The rest of the damn island is all rock and surf. I can't get within a hundred yards."