From far, far away, it seemed to Jay, he heard the sound of screaming. And the hum of several air conditioners, thousands going at once it seemed in this cheap motel, trying to pour cool air into the hellish heat of these cinder block cells, until the sound was like a swarm of bees in his ears.

23

“So, I tracked down Price at a motel just up the street from here.” Jay rubbed his eyes with his fists. “I got the room next door to him. Cheap walls. I sat with my head against the wall an entire day listening to him over there in his room. Maybe, I dunno, I was listening for sounds of regret, weeping, anguish, anything. But he just watched TV and drank all day. Then he called for a hooker. Less than forty-eight hours after he shot Desiree in the face and cut off her fingers, the prick orders up a woman like takeout.”

Jay lit another cigarette, stared at the flame for a moment.

“After the hooker left, I went over to his room. We had some words and I pushed him around a little bit. I was hoping he’d grab a weapon, and whatta ya know? He did. A six-inch switchblade. Fucking pimp’s knife. Good thing he pulled it, though. Made what I did next look like self-defense. Sort of.”

Jay turned his worn face toward the window, looked out as the rain let up just a bit. When he spoke again, his voice was flat and souless:

“I cut a smile through his abdomen from hip to hip, held his chin tight and made him look me in the eyes as his large intestine spilled out onto the floor.”

He shrugged. “I think Desiree’s memory was owed that.”

It was probably seventy-five degrees outside, but the air in the diner felt colder than slate in a mortuary.

“So what are you going to do now, Jay?” Angie said.

He smiled the smile of a ghost. “I’m going back to Boston, and I’m going to open up Trevor Stone, too.”

“And then what, spend the rest of your life in jail?”

He looked at me. “I don’t care. If the fates so decide, fine. Patrick, you get one shot at love, that’s if you’re very lucky. Well, I was very lucky. Forty-one years old, I fall in love with a woman nearly half my age for two weeks. And she dies. And, okay, the world’s a tough place. You get something good, sooner or later you’ll get served up something really bad just to even up the scales.” He patted the tabletop in a quick drumbeat. “Fine. I accept that. Don’t like it, but I accept it. The scales have evened up for me. Now I’m going to even them up for Trevor.”

“Jay,” Angie said. “It’d be a suicide mission.”