P. Parrish - Heart of Ice

They stopped under a streetlamp, and she could see his face clearly now. She could see now that what Danny Dancer had captured wasn’t emptiness. It was something as hard and ungiving as stone. Norm Rafsky, she realized in that moment, wanted to be forgiven, yet he didn’t know how to do it himself.

That was the source of the contempt in his eyes when he had first seen her today. Fifteen years and he still hadn’t been able to forgive her for what happened in Echo Bay.

It had taken her a long time to get over what she had done during her rookie year, conspiring with her fellow officers to leave a killer in the woods to die instead of taking him in to stand trial. Rafsky had been there, and she could still hear his words. You’ll be murderers, all of you.

He hadn’t turned them in, and when she asked him why his voice had gone cold.

I made a choice about what I could more easily live with-letting you get away with what you did or sending three decent young cops to jail.

But she knew now that he had never forgiven her. Not just for what she had done but also for what keeping silent about it had done to him.

“Forgiveness is easy to ask for,” she said. “But it’s hard to give.”

He just stared at her.

“Good night, Rafsky,” she said. She turned and started back to the hotel.

It was still drizzling by the time Louis got to the station the next morning, and a heavy fog had turned Main Street into a smudged charcoal drawing. Head turtled into his collar, he didn’t even see the crowd until he was almost upon it. It was the press scrum. Like a lab experiment gone bad, it had doubled in size since yesterday.

He did a quick count: six reporters, three photographers, and two TV camera guys were huddled under umbrellas at the side of the station’s steps in the area Clark had cordoned off that was normally used for the police bikes. No one looked at him as he went up the steps.

There was no room to move in the small foyer; two huge state troopers in black rain slickers had taken up the space. Louis nudged past and went to the Dutch door. Two more state guys were inside, crowding a harried-looking Barbara at her radio console. Louis caught her eye, and she pressed the buzzer to let him in. Heat was blowing down from a ceiling vent. The small office was hot and stuffy with the smell of wet wool. Rafsky was back in Flowers’s office on the phone.

Clark saw Louis and came over.

“What’s with the heat?” Louis asked.

“The janitor turned on the furnace last night and no one seems to know how to turn it off,” Clark said. “I’m working on it.”

“Any word on the chief?” Louis asked.

“He was transferred to St. Ignace Hospital this morning.”

“So he’s better?”

Clark nodded. “Still not conscious, but they said he was stable enough to be moved. He should be in surgery by now. I just sent one of my guys down to Pellston to pick up his ex-wife. Her plane gets in in a half hour, and we’re taking her right over there.”

“Good,” Louis said. He pulled a manila envelope from his jacket. “I wanted to make sure you got Sheriff Frye’s statement,” he said.

Clark took it reluctantly. “So this means you’re out of here?”

“It’s Rafsky’s show now.”

An officer came up to Clark. “Sergeant, somebody better get out there and feed the animals.”

Clark’s eyes went to Rafsky. “Like you said, it’s his show now, right?”

Clark went to Flowers’s office and said something to Rafsky. Louis heard Rafsky spit out a string of obscenities. A moment later he came out. He gave Louis a glance as he passed, stuffing his arms into his sports jacket. Louis decided he had to see this and followed him outside.

The moment Rafsky took his place on the station steps the TV camera lights went on. They created an eerie glow in the mist. The reporters tried to shout out questions, but Rafsky quieted them with a raised hand.

“I have a statement about the events of yesterday,” he said. “We have a suspect in custody in the shooting of Chief Jack Flowers. His name is Daniel Albert Dancer, and he is a resident here on the island.”

“Why were you at Dancer’s cabin?” someone yelled out.

“We just wanted to ask him some questions,” Rafsky said.

“Was it because you found skulls at Dancer’s cabin?”

There was a rumble in the crowd. Louis’s eyes shot to the scrum, but he couldn’t figure out who had asked the question. It was a female voice, and there were two women in the crowd. He focused on a blonde in a red raincoat.

“Detective, did you find skulls at Dancer’s house?”

Rafsky was staring at the blonde as if his eyes could turn her to a pillar of salt.

“No comment,” he said.

“Is Dancer a suspect in the Julie Chapman case?” the blonde called out.

“I said no comment. That is all for now. There will be no questions.”

Rafsky turned and went back inside. He stopped in the middle of the crowded office. Everyone was staring at him. For a second Louis thought Rafsky was going to start screaming about someone leaking the information about the skulls to the press. Then Rafsky caught Louis’s eye.

“Kincaid, I need to see you,” he said.

Louis followed him back to Flowers’s office and closed the door. Rafsky ripped off his sports coat and threw it on a chair. He turned his back to the outer office.

“Who the fuck is talking to the press?” he said.

“It’s a small island, Detective, it could be anyone,” Louis said. “Guys talk to their wives. Things get loose at the bar. And Dancer mailed skulls to customers. The people at the post office could have known.”

Rafsky drew in two deep breaths and went back around the desk to sit down. He sat there for a long time just staring out at the people beyond the glass.

“You’ve got good people out there, Detective,” Louis said. “No one here is trying to undermine you. Especially where it concerns the chief.”

Rafsky wiped the sweat from his brow and began to roll up his shirtsleeves. “Clark told me you and Sheriff Frye are leaving today,” he said.

“Yeah, Joe’s back at the hotel packing up. I’ll be staying with her in Echo Bay, and I left my contact info with Clark if you need me for anything.”

Rafsky started to say something, but the phone rang. He picked it up, listened for a moment, then said, “Tell him I need dogs. If I don’t find that skull in the cabin I’m going to dig up the whole damn island.”

Rafsky gave some more instructions, hung up, and looked at Louis. “Look, Kincaid,” he said. “I need to say something to you.”

“Make it quick,” Louis said.

“I don’t have much use for PIs,” Rafsky said.

The phone rang again. Rafsky pounced on it. “What?”

Immediately, his face softened.

“Yes, I know,” he said quietly. “Look, Ryan, I have a wounded officer here and-”

Rafsky fell silent, listening for a long time. “I know I promised her,” he said. “Okay. . yes, I will call her tonight. You have my word.”

Rafsky hung up. He leaned forward and laced his hands together. “Look, Kincaid,” he said. “I owe you an apology.”

Louis waited.

“That day we talked to Ross Chapman, I was out of line with what I said. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you’ll get a chance to apologize to the chief, too,” Louis said.

Rafsky rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Louis waited, but when Rafsky said nothing, he turned to leave.

“Wait,” Rafsky said.

Louis turned back.

“I looked deeper into what happened to you here in Michigan,” Rafsky said. “I didn’t have all the information, but now I do.” He paused. “You did the right thing.”