P. Parrish - Heart of Ice

“Turn that up,” Louis said.

The sound came up just as Flowers stepped to the microphone. His face was serious, his mondo-grass hair gelled back.

The reporters’ questions came in a salvo, and for a second Flowers looked flustered. Then he launched into a smooth recap of the investigation and a credible explanation of why Julie’s existence was kept secret.

“It was a carefully calculated decision designed to protect not only the suspect Julie Chapman but also Senator Ross Chapman from a media onslaught until we were able to get a clean and complete statement,” Flowers said. “There was never an attempt to cover anything up. We were in control the entire time.”

“He learns fast,” Rafsky said.

“Who’s that bald guy behind him?” Louis asked.

“My boss, Captain Leathers,” Rafsky said.

As if on cue Leathers stepped to the microphone and, after heaping more praise on Flowers, he gave a short speech about how diligently the police had worked to solve a very difficult case. Rafsky was mentioned in passing. Louis was not.

Louis looked back at Rafsky. “How come you’re not there?”

“I told them I had to visit a sick friend.”

“Norm, this was your case,” Louis said.

Rafsky muted the sound on the TV. “Flowers needed to lead the parade, not me,” he said.

“You get anything at all out of this?” Louis asked.

Rafsky took a moment to answer. “I got a bump in rank to captain. And they offered me a high-level administrative position at the training center in Lansing.”

“That’s great.”

“I’m not going to take it.”

“Why not?” Louis asked. “I thought you were getting tired of the field. That’s why you were putting in your papers, right?”

“I asked to stay in the Marquette post,” Rafsky said.

Louis understood. “Chloe and Ryan will like that,” he said.

Rafsky didn’t comment. The press conference ended, and the station switched to the weather.

“Has the DA made a decision yet on whether to charge Julie?” Louis asked.

Rafsky turned off the TV and leaned forward on his knees. “He’s looking at manslaughter.”

“Seems a little harsh.”

“You don’t think she deserves some sort of punishment?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look at it this way,” Rafsky said. “After she hit Rhonda Grasso with that stone she had two choices. Sit there and let her bleed out or try to get help.”

Rafsky was right. Julie could have gone to town to get help for Rhonda, but the truth was, she never considered it. She had covered up her crime and gone upstairs to wait for Cooper. And then there was Chester Grasso. Didn’t he-and his daughter-deserve some kind of justice?

“You think she’ll be found guilty?” Louis asked.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Rafsky said. “Our job ends when they close the cell door. After that it’s all up to the lawyers.”

Rafsky finished his Vernors and tossed the can across the room, making a nice swish into the trash can.

He stood up. “I have to get going.”

Rafsky started to hold out his hand, then drew it back when he remembered Louis’s sore fingers. Instead, he picked up his coat and laid it over his arm.

“You take care of yourself,” Rafsky said.

“You, too.”

Rafsky turned to leave. Louis watched him, thinking about staying here all night, watching the one TV station, and eating the bland food. Joe wasn’t going to get here until tomorrow, and damn it, he wanted some company. He didn’t mind at all if it was Rafsky.

“You know,” Louis said, “you could hang around and bring me a burger later from the Mustang.”

“Can’t,” Rafsky said. “I have a fresh body waiting for me in Newberry.”

“A new case already?”

Rafsky paused at the door to give Louis a small smile. “The dead keep us alive, right?”

And then he was gone.

Louis rubbed his fingers and picked up the pen again. Eight days, and although the blisters had gone down, he still had a burning sensation. The doctor assured him he would get feeling back, but some mornings it was so bad he had to have Joe button his shirt. Still, some things he had to do for himself.

He stared at the picture on the front of the postcard-Mackinac Island’s Arch Rock-turned it over, and began to write.

Dear Lily ,

My job here is finished. You’ll be happy to know that the girl’s bones went home today. Chief Flowers was on TV like a big star. He said to say hi. I’ll be going home soon and

He felt Joe’s hand on his shoulder and looked up at her. She read what he had written and smiled.

“You want a beer?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Something warm.”

She ran a light hand over his hair and moved away. He watched her as she pulled the coffee can from the cupboard, then he went back to writing the postcard. When he was done he opened the desk drawer, looking for a stamp. His eye caught the spot of black fur at his feet.

“What do you want?” he asked.

The little black dog was sitting there looking up at him.

“Joe!”

“What?”

“It’s staring at me again.”

“Just ignore her.”

Louis gave the dog a gentle push of his socked foot.

Except for its tail swishing on the floor, the dog didn’t move. The thing hadn’t been here when Louis visited over the holidays. Joe told him one of her men found the dog when he went to check up on an elderly woman who didn’t show up for her job as a crossing guard. He found the lady dead in her bed of natural causes, the dog lying across her feet. Joe had agreed to take it in until someone found it a home.

Louis had laughed the first time he saw it and called it a purse dog. Joe had to remind him that her last dog was a big yellow stray named Chips who had survived a knife attack. And besides, she told him, I get lonely sometimes out here by myself.

The dog-no name yet-was still looking up at him.

“Go away,” he whispered.

It didn’t move. With a sigh Louis went back to looking for a stamp. Finally he gave up and rose, going to the window.

The snow was heaped high in the front yard of Joe’s cabin. This morning she had gone out and shoveled a path to her police SUV and the mailbox out by the road, but it was still coming down. It was probably worse over on the island.

Louis reached into his pocket and pulled out the get-well card that had come in the morning’s mail. It was from Chief Flowers, though Louis was sure Carol had had something to do with it. He suspected the chief didn’t even know she had included a short letter. In it she thanked him for saving her husband’s life and told him that they were working on trying to get back together.

Louis pushed his glasses up his nose and read the rest.

Jack’s changed. We both have. I guess that’s what getting older does to you, makes you look at things different. Jack says you and your lady manage a long-distance relationship. Maybe we can do it, too. We want to try at least.

Louis took off his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket along with the card. The second time Flowers had visited him in the hospital he hadn’t mentioned anything about reconciling with Carol. But he had said that he wanted to stay on as the island’s police chief. It was where he belonged, he said. Besides, he had made a promise to Danny Dancer.

Dancer was now in a hospital in Escanaba, thanks to a plea agreement initiated by Flowers. With some time and medication there was a good chance Dancer might return to his cabin, and Flowers had promised him that it-and all his animal skulls-would be there when he got back.

The cottage was filling up with the smell of coffee. And bacon frying. Omelets for lunch again. It was the only thing Joe could make with any reliability.