Robert Parker - Split Image

"You go straight to a cell, you don't calm down," Jesse said.

The man stood slowly and looked down at Jesse.

"You will put me in a cell?"

Jesse took the gun from the drawer and pointed it at him.

"Yes," Jesse said. "We will shoot you if we have to."

The big man glanced back at Molly, who was also pointing her gun at him. Then he looked back at Jesse. He nodded once and sat back down. When he spoke, his voice had softened, but it continued to radiate power like a diesel generator.

"You are not welcoming," he said.

"Not yet," Jesse said.

The big man nodded again, as if in agreement with himself. Jesse put the gun back in the drawer, but he left the drawer open.

"You are a hard man," the big man said.

"Of course I am," Jesse said. "I'm the chief of police."

"I am a hard man, too," the big man said. "It is not a bad thing."

"Sometimes it is a good thing," Jesse said.

"My name is Nicolas Ognowski," the big man said. "I want to know who murdered my son."

"We don't know yet, Mr. Ognowski," Jesse said. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"When will you know?"

"As soon as we can," Jesse said. "Who is this?"

"Petrov's wife."

"And your name?" Jesse said.

"Natalya."

Her voice was small. Or maybe everyone's voice sounded small in the context of Ognowski's.

"My condolences, Mrs. Ognowski."

She bowed her head silently.

"We have very little evidence yet regarding the death of Petrov Ognowski," Jesse said. "Do either of you have anything to tell me?"

"She does," Ognowski said.

Natalya continued to look down at her lap, which was barely covered by her skirt.

"Do you know something useful, Mrs. Ognowski?" Jesse said.

She nodded. Jesse nodded toward the door where Molly still stood, her gun still out and hidden by the doorjamb.

"Would you prefer to talk to Molly?" Jesse said.

"She'll talk to you," Ognowski said. "Tell him now, Natalya."

She blushed.

"Another woman," Natalya said.

"Do you know who?" Jesse said.

Natalya shook her head.

"Are you sure?" Jesse said.

Natalya nodded.

"Did you ever see her?" Jesse said.

Natalya shook her head.

"Did he tell you about her?"

She shook her head again.

"But you are sure he was seeing another woman," Jesse said.

She nodded her head vigorously.

"How did you know?" Jesse said.

She didn't answer.

"Tell him how you know, Natalya," Ognowski said.

Natalya raised her eyes and looked straight at Jesse. Her face was red.

"I am with him at night," she said. "We are doing love. And I am knowing I am not first person he do this with today."

"How do you know?" Jesse said.

"I know. I know like a voice saying in my head, he do this already today. I know."

She looked hard at Jesse.

"You understand?" she said.

It seemed to matter to her that he did. He thought of how he had known that with Jenn. He did understand. He nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

She smiled faintly.

"Did it happen more than once?" Jesse said.

"Many," Natalya said.

"But you don't know who?"

"No."

"Could it have been more than one?" Jesse said.

Natalya looked at Nicolas Ognowski.

"Petrov liked women," Ognowski said.

"Doesn't mean it got him killed," Jesse said.

"It is a clue," Ognowski said. "More than you had before we came."

"True," Jesse said.

"You will find him," Ognowski said. "Or I will. If I do, it will save you much trouble."

"And if I warned you to stay out of it?" Jesse said.

Ognowski stared silently at Jesse.

Then he said, "Petrov was my only son."

Jesse nodded.

"Anything else you can tell me?" he said.

"That is all we know," Ognowski said.

"Where can I get in touch with you?" Jesse said.

"I will get in touch with you," Ognowski said.

He stood. Natalya stood as soon as he did.

"You would not let me walk over you," Ognowski said.

"No," Jesse said.

"Many people do."

"You have a lot of presence," Jesse said.

Ognowski nodded.

"It is a good sign that you would not," he said.

When he left, Jesse walked to the front of the station with him and stood in the front door of the station and watched them get into a waiting cab. As it pulled away, Jesse took down the hack number of the cab. Then he looked at Molly.

"Jesus Christ," Molly said, and holstered her gun.

IT'S FUNNY," Sunny said to Dr. Silverman, as they sat in Dr. Silverman's office. "I have such conflicting emotions when I come to see you."

Dr. Silverman nodded almost imperceptibly. It was one of her nondirective "let's talk about that" signs.

"I mean, I'm hoping to get well," Sunny said. "And I'm eager to find out more about myself. But I also hate to have to face some of what I find out. And I hate to have to admit it to you."

Dr. Silverman nodded and waited.

"But besides all of those kinds of conflicting emotions," Sunny said, "I am always eager to see what you're wearing."

Dr. Silverman tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. It was her "tell me about that" sign.

"You are beautiful, of course," Sunny said. "But you are also the most perfectly pulled-together woman I've ever seen."

" 'Pulled together,' " Dr. Silverman said.

Well, Sunny thought, she remains calm in the face of praise.

"I mean, everything fits, and everything matches, and everything is appropriate," Sunny said. "It's not just pulled together. It's… You're very complete."

Dr. Silverman nodded and waited again.

"Or is all of that just transference?" Sunny said.

Dr. Silverman smiled.

"I hope not," she said.

Sunny laughed.

"It's not like I run around gushing to women friends about how complete they seem."

" 'Complete,' " Dr. Silverman said.

"You know, everything works. Competent. Contained. In control. The way you look is like a… like a symbol of how you are."

Dr. Silverman nodded. Sunny was quiet.

After a time, Dr. Silverman said, "Of course, you have no way of knowing how I am."

Sunny stared at her.

"Well," Sunny said, after a while. "I see you twice a week, and have for some time now."

"And what do we always talk about?" Dr. Silverman said.

Sunny was silent for a moment. Then she smiled slightly.

"Me," Sunny said.

Dr. Silverman nodded.

"So why have I constructed this whole portrait of you based basically on how you look."

"It might be interesting to know," Dr. Silverman said.

They sat quietly.

"Well, you are attractive," Sunny said. "And you're accomplished-you know, Harvard Ph.D. psychotherapist. Successful relationship?"

Dr. Silverman didn't answer.

"Of course," Sunny said. "It's about me, not you."

Dr. Silverman made a faint assenting movement with her head. Sunny sat back a little in her chair and looked at the ceiling while she thought.

"So why do I need you to be the woman I described?"

More silence. Then Dr. Silverman broke it.

"Do you know any women like the one you've described?" Dr. Silverman said.

"No," Sunny said. "Not really."

"Do you know anyone like that?" Dr. Silverman said. "Male or female?"

"My father," Sunny said. "And… I guess my ex-husband."

There was more quiet.

"My father," Sunny said. "And my ex-husband. There must be something pretty shrinky there."

Dr. Silverman nodded without exactly agreeing. Sunny never quite knew how she stayed so noncommittal.

"Are you that woman?" Dr. Silverman said.

"Me?"

Dr. Silverman nodded.

"God, no," Sunny said.

"Would you like to be that woman?" Dr. Silverman said.

Sunny looked at the ceiling some more. Then she lowered her eyes and looked at Dr. Silverman.