P. Parrish - Heart of Ice

“That reminds me, Chief,” Pike said. “Could you post an extra officer to watch the interior paths?”

“Why?”

“Some guy’s been lurking back there in the trees. I think he’s local, because he just walks in from the woods.”

“Has he tried to get under the tape?” Flowers asked.

“No. Just stands there and watches us.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Stocky fellow, unshaven, and walks with a shuffle,” Pike said. “He wears overalls and one of those old red-and-black-checkered hunting hats.”

“That’s just Danny,” Flowers said.

“Danny who?” Louis asked.

“Danny Dancer,” Flowers said. “He’s a hermit who lives up around the bend in one of the old cabins left on state land.”

“Why would he be so interested in what the techs are doing here?”

Flowers shrugged. “Hell, Kincaid, everyone on this island is interested in this case.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Danny? Shit, no.”

“How old is he?” Louis asked.

Flowers had to think. “I don’t know, forty, maybe?”

“Then he was here the winter of 1969. He might know something. He might be the-”

Flowers quickly raised a hand. “Look, I know Danny. He’s harmless. He was raised by his aunt Bitty, a sweet old lady from what I hear. He comes into town once a week for groceries and eats a tomato-and-lettuce sandwich on the fifteenth of every month-the day his aunt passed-at her favorite restaurant.”

“I don’t care what he does now,” Louis said. “In 1969 he would’ve been around the same age as Julie, and he lives near this lodge.”

“I’m telling you Danny Dancer is no killer,” Flowers said. “Look, you said at one point you thought the killer might have abducted Julie from downstate. Danny doesn’t even own a car. I don’t think he’s been off the island in his entire life.”

“The pregnancy changes our theory, Chief,” Louis said. “Maybe she wasn’t abducted. Maybe she came back willingly to meet the father of her baby. And maybe that boy didn’t want to be a father. And maybe Dancer was that boy.”

Flowers laughed. “If you only knew how crazy that was.”

“Why?”

“Danny’s a likable guy, but he’s homely, real shy, and a little dim,” Flowers said. “A guy like him would’ve been invisible to a girl like Julie Chapman.”

“Sometimes girls play cruel games with dumb boys.”

Flowers shook his head. “From what we know about Julie Chapman that doesn’t make sense.”

“We need to talk to him,” Louis said.

“Good grief, Kincaid.”

“Humor me, Chief.”

“Okay,” Flowers said. “But you’ll see what I mean when you meet him. Come on, we can walk to his place from here.”

Joe was sitting on the railing on the veranda. Louis went up to her. “I have to go with the chief to talk to someone,” he said.

“I heard.” Joe glanced over his shoulder at Flowers. “I can’t believe he doesn’t see this Dancer guy as a suspect,” she said softly.

“Now you see what I’ve gotten myself into?”

“You never could resist a cold case or a lost cause.”

“The chief’s not a lost cause, just a little lost.”

“Well, go help him,” Joe said with a smile. “Give me the golf cart keys. I want to go take some pictures of that old cemetery we passed coming in.”

He was fishing the keys from his pocket when Flowers came up to them.

“I just had a thought,” he said. “It might be a real help if Joe came along with us.”

“What for?” Louis asked.

“Danny tends to clam up around men,” Flowers said. “He’s been that way since his aunt died.” He looked at Joe. “I think he’d be intimidated by two cops. Having a lady there would make him feel better.”

Joe looked questioningly at Louis.

“You mind?” he asked her.

“Not at all. I’m happy to help out, Chief,” Joe said.

* * *

It was a small log cabin sitting in a copse of peeling white birch trees. A rock chimney rose up on the right, a small porch jutted out from a rough-hewn wood door. The two front windows were shuttered, and the shed set back in the tall grass had a padlock on the door. A wrought iron table sat in the yard, its two chairs tipped over into the carpet of leaves.

“The place looks deserted,” Joe said.

“He’s in there,” Flowers said, starting toward the cabin.

Still scanning the yard, Louis and Joe fell into step behind him.

Suddenly, the front door of the cabin swung open.

A man stood in the doorway.

“Danny!” Flowers called out as he walked toward the door.

The man took one step forward. Something in his hands glinted in the sun.

Louis froze and threw out a hand to stop Joe.

“Gun! Get down!” he yelled.

The crack of the rifle split the silence.

Louis dropped to his belly, searching for cover, but he was caught between trees, each six feet away.

More rifle fire. Three, four, five shots.

“Joe, you hit?”

Her voice came from behind him. “I’m okay.”

“Chief?”

No answer.

Louis raised his head. The cabin door was still open, but Dancer had retreated into the dark interior.

Oh God.

Flowers lay in the leaves about ten feet to Louis’s right.

Suddenly more gunshots, zinging through leaves and snapping bark off trees. Louis waited a few seconds, then crawled forward. When he reached Flowers, he tugged on his uniform jacket and it fell open.

Blood. . his white shirt was soaked at the collar. He had been hit in the neck.

Flowers moaned and coughed up blood.

Louis put a hand to Flowers’s chest, trying to keep him from moving.

“Joe! Flowers is hit!”

A crack of a bullet smothered her answer.

Louis grabbed the radio from Flowers’s belt and keyed it.

“Dispatch, Dispatch, this is Louis Kincaid. We’re at the cabin of Danny Dancer, and Chief Flowers is down with a GSW. Need medical assistance now! Right now!”

Another volley of bullets zipped overhead.

“Dispatch, approach with extreme caution. We’re still under fire!”

The dispatcher spat out a shocked expletive but then acknowledged. Louis stuck the radio in his jacket and pulled the gun from Flowers’s holster.

He looked down into Flowers’s face. His eyes were wide and liquid.

“Chief, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” Louis said. “You’re going to be okay.”

He looked back at Joe. She had found cover behind a woodpile and was sitting up, her breathing fast and her face flushed.

Louis took a quick look at the door. “Dancer! Stop shooting! We’re not here to arrest you!”

Two more rifle shots ripped into a nearby tree. It sounded like Dancer was shooting a.22 rifle, what hunters called a varmint gun. Dancer could keep them pinned down and just reload. Which meant he could outlast them-and Flowers.

He had to do something. And to do it, he had to leave Flowers. He crawled on his belly back to Joe.

“How bad is the chief hurt?” Joe asked.

“Bad. Hit in the neck.”

“What do you want to do?” Joe asked.

“I need to get up there.”

“And do what?”

“The windows are shuttered, so he can’t see me if I go for the porch. If I can get close enough, I can grab the rifle and take him down.”

He held out Flowers’s.45. “You need to distract him.”

“You’re going to go up there unarmed? Are you nuts?” Joe said.

Maybe he was, but they had no choice. Joe’s Glock was locked in a safe back at the hotel, so they had only the chief’s gun. If Dancer managed to turn the rifle on Louis it would be up to Joe to drop the bastard.

Louis pressed the.45 into her hand. “Shoot at the door to keep him inside until I make the porch. If we’re lucky he’ll think you’re reloading and stick his head out.”