Brian Freeman - The Cold Nowhere

‘So do you?’ she asked.

‘Do I what?’

‘Remember Marty Gamble.’

Ken turned around and scratched his beard. ‘Wasn’t he the skinhead who stabbed his wife and then blew his head off?’

‘That’s him.’

‘That was a long time ago. He was a brutal son of a bitch. We all knew him. Why, what’s going on?’

She explained about Cat and Stride. ‘I think he’s taking on more than he should. I don’t trust this girl.’

‘Gamble’s dead. What does this have to do with his daughter?’

‘The girl’s obsessed with knives,’ she said. ‘Just like Daddy.’

‘You think she’s violent?’

‘I don’t know, but the whole thing feels wrong to me.’

Ken wandered back to the bed. He sat down and played with her nipple, and she started to get horny. It made her think about peeling off his tighty-whities and trying again.

‘If your instincts say something’s wrong, then something’s probably wrong,’ he said. ‘Trust your gut.’

‘Thanks.’

Before she could pounce on him and straddle his groin, he bounced off the bed. ‘So what should we do this afternoon? You want to go down and hit the casino? I like the idea of a rich girlfriend staking me at blackjack. I can go for this whole boy-toy thing.’

‘Listen, about this afternoon,’ she said.

Ken groaned with displeasure. ‘Oh, shit, tell me you’re not busy, Maggie. It’s Saturday. It’s play day.’

‘You surprised me. I’m behind on my paperwork. I’ve got to go into the office for a few hours.’

‘How many hours?’ he asked.

‘Three, max, I promise. Four at the outside. Okay? We can hook up tonight.’

‘Fine, I’ll go to the casino and spend my own money. Nickel slots and free Mountain Dew. Are you happy?’

‘You want some cash?’

Ken laughed. ‘Please, I am an old-fashioned chauvinist male. I refuse to sponge off a woman unless she is physically with me.’

‘Suit yourself,’ she said.

She came up and pressed her body against him. She worked her hands inside his underwear and squeezed his cheeks like she was testing melons at the farmers’ market. ‘You going to give me any hints about this position you want to try? Because chances are I’ve tried it.’

‘Well then, you can be the teacher, and I can be the naughty student.’

She slapped his ass and pulled out her hands. ‘What do you want for dinner? How about T-bones right here? Au gratins, cabernet, candlelight.’

‘Now you’re talking.’

She sat down on the bed and pulled on her black socks. He watched her with hungry eyes, and she liked the fact that he didn’t hide his desire for her.

‘There’s nothing sexier than a woman wearing nothing but socks,’ he said.

‘Funny.’

‘No, it’s true. Besides, socks keep my shoulders warm.’

She giggled. She didn’t giggle very often, but she found herself doing it a lot with Ken. Maybe it was true that dating a younger man was the secret to the fountain of youth. Her lips turned upward, and her white teeth beamed.

‘That’s what I like to see,’ he said. ‘That smile.’

‘Sorry. I’ve been distracted this morning.’

‘I could tell.’

‘It’s this thing with Stride,’ she said.

Ken frowned, and Maggie knew she’d put her foot in her mouth by mentioning Stride’s name. They were new lovers, but they were old friends. It was hard to keep secrets from someone who knew you well. She’d been the one to hire him away from his job as a UMD campus cop; she’d trained him, supervised him, gone on calls with him, and complained to him. When he’d transferred to the Minneapolis Police four years earlier, she’d been disappointed, because she liked spilling her guts to Ken. There had always been a hint of sexual tension between them, but it had never amounted to anything until now. They both knew why.

‘It’s always about Stride, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘Nothing ever changes with you.’

‘That’s not what this is.’

‘Yeah?’ He wasn’t convinced.

‘Really, it’s not. Not anymore.’

‘Sure.’

She couldn’t pretend that she’d never had feelings for Stride. It was an open secret in the department, and she’d shared a lot — probably too much — with Ken when he’d worked with her in Duluth. However, she hadn’t told him about her short-lived affair with Stride over the winter. No one knew about that.

No one except Serena.

‘Does Stride know about us?’ Ken asked.

‘I told him this morning.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He asked who you were. He didn’t remember you.’

Ken looked crestfallen, but then his eyes narrowed as he studied Maggie’s face and realized she was joking. ‘You lying bitch.’

She laughed. ‘Sorry. He gave us his blessing. He said we were two crazy kids, and he said to make sure we were using protection.’

‘Right.’

Maggie continued getting dressed. She squeezed herself into tight jeans and let him admire her, topless, before reaching for a T-shirt. Not that there was much to admire upstairs. Her breasts weren’t exactly mountains. She slipped her shirt over her head and tucked it in. Her hair was mussed, and she blew her bangs out of her eyes. Ken came over and fondled her bowl haircut.

‘Red, huh? I can’t picture it.’

‘Where did you hear about that?’ she asked.

‘I talked to Guppo. He said it was a sight to behold.’

‘I bet he did. He told me I looked like a felt-tip marker. Guess I’ll stick with black.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Red’s sexy. You must have been hot.’

‘Thank you.’ She kissed him, but then her eyes widened in horror. ‘Holy crap! You didn’t tell Guppo about us, did you?’

‘Hey, I was tempted, but no. I think he probably guessed, though. I can’t keep it off my face when I’m having sex.’

‘You can’t keep it off my face,’ Maggie replied, winking. She studied him in his underwear and added, ‘I don’t know exactly what we’re doing here, but I kinda like it.’

‘Me, too. I had a crush on you in the old days, you know.’

‘So why did you never make a move on me?’

‘Are you kidding? Back then, you scared the shit out of me. You and your Terminator sunglasses and your snarky mouth. I figured you must be some kind of dominatrix in bed.’

‘And now?’

‘Now I’m into that,’ he said.

She strapped herself into her boots, which really did look like something a dominatrix would wear. She grabbed sunglasses from her nightstand and slid them over her face with both hands.

‘Ah’ll be back,’ she rumbled.

‘Just like Arnold,’ he said.

She headed for the door, but before she could leave, he called after her. ‘Hey, Maggie?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You want to tell me where you’re really going?’

She took off her sunglasses and acted surprised, but he’d caught her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Maggie Bei never got behind on paperwork in her life,’ Ken replied coolly. ‘What are you up to?’

He was a cop, and you can’t fool a cop.

‘Okay, okay, I want to dig around into this girl a little bit more. She hangs out at the shelter downtown. I’m meeting Brooke Hahne to see what she can tell me.’

‘Sounds like I better not count on steaks and sex tonight.’

‘It depends on what I find. It’s probably nothing.’

‘You could have told me the truth. Why is this so important to you?’

Maggie frowned. It bothered her to say what she was really thinking. ‘Forty-one times. That’s what I keep thinking about. That’s what scares me.’

Ken’s face scrunched up in confusion. ‘What?’

‘Forty-one times. The medical examiner counted the stab wounds during the autopsy of Michaela Mateo. I remember the number. Marty Gamble stabbed his ex-wife forty-one times while he was killing her.’