P. Parrish - Heart of Ice

Rafsky let out a long breath. “Now I see why you didn’t say anything on the radio.”

Louis pulled off the latex gloves. “I need some air.”

They went out onto the porch. For a long time the only sound was the rush of wind through the pines and the soft babble from the police radio in Louis’s back pocket.

“Any word on Flowers?” Rafsky asked finally.

“None. Clark said he’d call if there was any change.”

Rafsky fell quiet again. His trench coat was wrinkled, and his face had a dark growth of stubble. The guy looked spent, and Louis suspected it wasn’t just from the fast drive back from Marquette. He wondered if Rafsky was remembering the last scene in Flowers’s office and how he had insulted both of them.

Pike appeared at the door. His mask was hanging around his neck, and he was wiping his eyes. “I need better equipment,” he muttered.

“What did you find?” Rafsky asked.

“Okay, this is only preliminary, but I didn’t find any human skulls or bones anywhere in the cabin,” Pike said.

“What about an attic?” Rafsky asked.

“No attic.”

“Crawl space?”

Pike nodded to the other tech, now out in the yard taking photographs. “Sam checked it out. Solid concrete foundation.”

Rafsky looked out over the woods. “Then he buried it out here in his yard somewhere.”

“It’s not his yard, Detective,” Pike said. “It’s all state land. You going to dig up the whole damn island?”

“I am in charge here now. We’ll dig wherever I say we’ll dig.”

Pike shook his head. “I hope you have a lot of troopers and a lot of fucking shovels.”

“Look, I suggest you get your ass back in that cabin and find something to connect this bastard to Julie Chapman,” Rafsky said.

Pike looked like he wanted to punch Rafsky, and Louis started to step between them but held off. Everyone was on edge. Finally, with a glance at Louis, Pike headed back to the porch. Louis waited until Pike was inside before he turned to Rafsky.

“You know, you’re a real prick,” Louis said.

Rafsky faced him. “And you have no reason to be here anymore.”

“At least I was here,” Louis said.

Rafsky’s eyes locked on him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Louis started to walk away, but Rafsky grabbed his arm. Louis spun out of his grip.

“What the hell are you saying?” Rafsky demanded.

“I’m saying that you want to be in charge but you never seem to be around for any of the real work.” Louis paused. “Where the fuck do you disappear to? Why aren’t you here when it counts?”

Rafsky glared at him, then his eyes moved over Louis’s shoulder. Louis realized the two officers at the tape perimeter had heard them. But he didn’t care.

“Are you saying this is somehow my fault?” Rafsky said.

“I don’t know. Is it?”

Rafsky started to say something, then stopped. His expression shifted, as if he had suddenly gone somewhere else. It lasted only a second or two and then he was back. But the ice in his eyes was gone.

“I have work to do,” Rafsky said quietly. He walked away, ducking under the yellow tape and ignoring the stares of the officers.

Quiet. There were always these strange hours of quiet after a shooting. Maybe it was a natural reaction to the first moments of terror and the following lost time of chaos. Or maybe it was just that the fire of adrenaline finally burned out for everyone.

Louis rubbed his face and looked up. It was nearly seven, and the tiny office of the Mackinac Island Police Department was almost empty. Clark was outside dealing with the press. His second in command was busy logging evidence. The other officers were helping the techs process at the cabin and lodge. Even the radio was silent for the moment. Barbara, the dispatcher, pulling her second shift of the day, was staring vacantly at the wall, her hands cradling a cold cup of tea.

No one was talking. The tension was too thick. Word had come from the hospital fifteen minutes ago that Flowers’s condition had stabilized, but he was still unconscious. If he made it through the next twelve hours, the doctor said, his chances were good.

Louis turned his attention back to the form in front of him. He had been here an hour now and still had not finished writing out his statement or drawn the diagram of what had happened at the cabin.

It wasn’t the process. He had written countless statements far worse than this. But there was something gut-wrenching about this one. It was like it should never have happened in a place like this.

He thought back to the scene at the cabin with Rafsky. As angry as he was at the man he shouldn’t have said what he did. It had come out of frustration and anger at himself for walking into Dancer’s trap.

He glanced at the phone. He had called Joe twenty minutes ago. She said she was fine and would be there soon so they could go get something to eat.

Eat. . he couldn’t remember the last thing he had eaten. And right now, a big hamburger, two cold beers, and a warm bed with Joe at his side were the only things he wanted.

Clark came back in. He looked beleaguered as he walked up to Louis.

“How’d it go out there?” Louis asked.

“One of them asked where Ross Chapman is.”

The Chapmans. Shit.

“You better call him and fill him in,” Louis said. “We’re not going to be able to keep Dancer’s skulls quiet long. I don’t want Chapman hearing about it from a damn reporter.”

“I’ll go out to their house myself tonight.”

“Make sure he understands that right now we have no solid connection between Dancer and his sister.”

Clark nodded.

“Where’s Rafsky?”

“I think he’s still upstairs with Dancer.”

“Did Dancer ask for a lawyer?”

Clark shook his head. “The only thing he asked for was a pencil and some paper.”

“Why?”

“He wouldn’t say. I thought maybe he wanted to write out a statement or something, so I gave him a notebook.”

“You didn’t give him a pencil, did you?”

“No. Barbara had some of her daughter’s crayons in her desk. I gave him those.”

Louis nodded. “Good.”

Clark looked down at the statement form. “Are you going to be leaving the island soon?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Louis said. “I want to make sure the chief is going to be okay first.” He leaned back in the chair. “Have you heard from his ex-wife yet?”

“She called me from the airport in Kansas City. She has a flight to Detroit tonight, but there are no connections until morning. She’ll be here tomorrow. I assigned a man to go pick her up and accompany her here.”

A sound drew Louis’s eyes to the foyer. Rafsky had come down the stairs from the courthouse. He gave Louis a quick look, then started back toward Flowers’s office. Suddenly he stopped and came back to the desk where Louis sat.

“I can’t get anything out of the bastard,” he said. “He said he wanted to talk to the black guy and the lady. What lady?”

The sound of the front door opening and a rush of cold air drew Louis’s eyes to the open Dutch door. He was sitting at an angle that gave him a clear view of the front entrance.

Joe.

She came into the office and every head turned in her direction. Just hours ago back at the hospital she had been shaking and smeared in blood. Now, in black jeans, black leather jacket and boots, her hair back in a neat ponytail, she was all business again.

Rafsky’s back was to the door, and he couldn’t see her. There was no way to stop it, no way to make this easy. Louis rose, his eyes on Joe.

Rafsky turned to follow Louis’s gaze.

A look of surprise moved across Joe’s face-not at seeing Rafsky, Louis knew, but at how he had changed.