Jesse said, as they got out of the cruiser. "But pretentious."
"True," Sunny said. "But it's much worse inside."
Kennedy laughed.
"Summers," he said, "I used to work construction while I was going to college. And I worked on this place. They built a whole bunch of them out here when mortgage money was easy."
He was a sturdy young guy with a crew cut and some modest lettering that said Sherm tattooed on his left wrist.
"Some foreclosures around here?"
"Like a damned going-out-of-business sale. People got balloon notes all of a sudden coming due. People who had no business buying one of these fucking monsters . . . 'Scuse me, Ms. Randall."
"My father was a cop," Sunny said. "I was a cop. I been hanging out with a bad element all my life."
Kennedy grinned.
"So you don't give a fuck," he said.
"I do not," Sunny said.
"Anyway," Kennedy said. "Lotta people bought places they couldn't afford with mortgages they shouldn't have gotten, or got places they couldn't afford but thought they could flip when the price went up, and the prices didn't go up and they couldn't carry the payments. . . . You know."
"I do," Sunny said.
They went to the front door. Kennedy put his badge folder in his breast pocket so that the badge showed. Elsa Markham answered the door.
"Hi," Kennedy said. "Detective Kennedy. I called earlier." Elsa nodded. She looked at Sunny.
"Ms. Randall," she said.
"Mrs. Markham," Sunny said. "This is Jesse Stone. He's the chief of police in Paradise."
"Could you tell me what this is about?" Elsa said.
"May we come in?" Kennedy said.
"I am not required to let you in," she said, "unless you have some sort of document, I believe."
"True," Kennedy said. "But it would probably go easier if we came in."
"I'll decide that," Elsa said, "when I know what this is about."
"Your daughter is missing," Jesse said.
"I know that," Elsa said.
"She's missing from the Bond of the Renewal group home," Jesse said. "Where she lived, in Paradise."
Elsa was silent for a moment. Her face had a hard, sort of sick look, Jesse thought. As if she didn't feel well. Then she spoke.
"You could have informed me of that by a phone call," she said.
"We could," Jesse said.
"But you chose to come here," Elsa said.
"We did," Jesse said.
"Phone call's kind of cold," Kennedy said.
"They could have sent just you," she said to Kennedy. Then, turning back to Jesse: "Why did you and this woman come all the way out here?"
"Thought you might be helpful," Jesse said.
"I'm no longer responsible for her. She wants to shack up with some Jesus freak, I have no control over that."
"You think she's shacking up?" Jesse said.
"That would be her style," Elsa said.
"Any idea which Jesus freak?" Sunny said.
"None."
"Has she done this before?" Jesse said.
"What the hell do you think she's been doing in your stupid town for the last several months?" Elsa said.
"Any other instances," Jesse said, "besides her adventures in Paradise?"
"Drive through town," Elsa said. "Any long-haired, tattooed drug addict you see."
"Many of those in town?" Jesse asked Kennedy.
Kennedy grinned and covered up his Sherm tattoo with his right hand.
"Not that many," Kennedy said.
"Enough," Elsa said.
Kennedy shrugged.
"Is Mr. Markham here?" Jesse said.
"John's at work," she said. "As he is every other weekday."
"Industrious," Jesse said.
"It costs a lot of money to be Elsa and John Markham," she said.
"But worth it," Jesse said.
"Every penny," Elsa said.
"What does Mr. Markham do?" Sunny said.
"He's senior vice president of marketing at Pace Advertising," Elsa said.
"And Cheryl Markham?" Jesse said.
"She has chosen not to live under our roof," Elsa said. "She wants to be on her own. Very well. She is on her own."
"You've not heard from her," Jesse said.
"I have not."
"And you have no idea where she might be?" Jesse said.
"I do not."
"Or with whom?" Jesse said.
"None."
Jesse nodded. He looked at Sunny. She shrugged. He turned back to Elsa
"True," Sunny said. "But it's much worse inside."
Kennedy laughed.
"Summers," he said, "I used to work construction while I was going to college. And I worked on this place. They built a whole bunch of them out here when mortgage money was easy."
He was a sturdy young guy with a crew cut and some modest lettering that said Sherm tattooed on his left wrist.
"Some foreclosures around here?"
"Like a damned going-out-of-business sale. People got balloon notes all of a sudden coming due. People who had no business buying one of these fucking monsters . . . 'Scuse me, Ms. Randall."
"My father was a cop," Sunny said. "I was a cop. I been hanging out with a bad element all my life."
Kennedy grinned.
"So you don't give a fuck," he said.
"I do not," Sunny said.
"Anyway," Kennedy said. "Lotta people bought places they couldn't afford with mortgages they shouldn't have gotten, or got places they couldn't afford but thought they could flip when the price went up, and the prices didn't go up and they couldn't carry the payments. . . . You know."
"I do," Sunny said.
They went to the front door. Kennedy put his badge folder in his breast pocket so that the badge showed. Elsa Markham answered the door.
"Hi," Kennedy said. "Detective Kennedy. I called earlier." Elsa nodded. She looked at Sunny.
"Ms. Randall," she said.
"Mrs. Markham," Sunny said. "This is Jesse Stone. He's the chief of police in Paradise."
"Could you tell me what this is about?" Elsa said.
"May we come in?" Kennedy said.
"I am not required to let you in," she said, "unless you have some sort of document, I believe."
"True," Kennedy said. "But it would probably go easier if we came in."
"I'll decide that," Elsa said, "when I know what this is about."
"Your daughter is missing," Jesse said.
"I know that," Elsa said.
"She's missing from the Bond of the Renewal group home," Jesse said. "Where she lived, in Paradise."
Elsa was silent for a moment. Her face had a hard, sort of sick look, Jesse thought. As if she didn't feel well. Then she spoke.
"You could have informed me of that by a phone call," she said.
"We could," Jesse said.
"But you chose to come here," Elsa said.
"We did," Jesse said.
"Phone call's kind of cold," Kennedy said.
"They could have sent just you," she said to Kennedy. Then, turning back to Jesse: "Why did you and this woman come all the way out here?"
"Thought you might be helpful," Jesse said.
"I'm no longer responsible for her. She wants to shack up with some Jesus freak, I have no control over that."
"You think she's shacking up?" Jesse said.
"That would be her style," Elsa said.
"Any idea which Jesus freak?" Sunny said.
"None."
"Has she done this before?" Jesse said.
"What the hell do you think she's been doing in your stupid town for the last several months?" Elsa said.
"Any other instances," Jesse said, "besides her adventures in Paradise?"
"Drive through town," Elsa said. "Any long-haired, tattooed drug addict you see."
"Many of those in town?" Jesse asked Kennedy.
Kennedy grinned and covered up his Sherm tattoo with his right hand.
"Not that many," Kennedy said.
"Enough," Elsa said.
Kennedy shrugged.
"Is Mr. Markham here?" Jesse said.
"John's at work," she said. "As he is every other weekday."
"Industrious," Jesse said.
"It costs a lot of money to be Elsa and John Markham," she said.
"But worth it," Jesse said.
"Every penny," Elsa said.
"What does Mr. Markham do?" Sunny said.
"He's senior vice president of marketing at Pace Advertising," Elsa said.
"And Cheryl Markham?" Jesse said.
"She has chosen not to live under our roof," Elsa said. "She wants to be on her own. Very well. She is on her own."
"You've not heard from her," Jesse said.
"I have not."
"And you have no idea where she might be?" Jesse said.
"I do not."
"Or with whom?" Jesse said.
"None."
Jesse nodded. He looked at Sunny. She shrugged. He turned back to Elsa
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