P. Parrish - Dead of Winter

But Ollie’s death…he couldn’t see it as clearly as the others. Ollie had died from a sniper’s bullet. But who had fired it? How much time had elapsed between the shooting and Gibralter’s first radio transmission? Enough for Gibralter to make it from the field back to his cruiser hidden nearby? Or had Jesse been the shadow he had seen running across the field?

Louis shook his head. He couldn’t remember; the details of that night were too blurred. Except for one: the bullet in his own back, stopped by the vest. Who had fired it and why? Did they intend to kill him along with Ollie or had they fired at him just to make it look convincing?

He closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure. Damn it, he just wasn’t sure about any of it. And he couldn’t accuse Gibralter of murder until he was.

Gibralter…

No matter what route his thoughts took they always came back to Gibralter and what kind of man he was. Louis thought about the two events in Chicago. An investigation that had tested Gibralter’s definition of loyalty and a gang attack so humiliating it had driven him from the job.

What kind of man what he? A cop who put loyalty above anything else? A paranoid who would do anything to avoid crucifixion by Mark Steele? A genius capable of planning the perfect murder?

And where was Louis’s own place in the plan? Why had Gibralter given him the Pryce case in the first place? There was only one answer. Gibralter needed someone to lead the investigation away from himself and Jesse and right to Lacey.

He needed a pawn and I was perfect.

A sudden pounding at the door made Louis turn, his heart jumping against his sternum. He lunged for his belt lying on the counter and pulled out his gun.

“Louis!”

Shit, it was Jesse.

Louis put the gun back in its holster and moved to the door. Jesse hollered for him again and Louis swung open the door.

“What do you want?” Louis hissed.

Jesse’s face was red from the cold, his hair flecked with snow. “I wanna talk….Can I come in?”

Louis’s hand balled into a fist at his side as the stink of whiskey floated up to him. Louis started to close the door in his face but Jesse stuck his arm in the door.

“Hey! Louis! I wanna talk, man!” Jesse said.

Louis stared at him. Okay, he wanted to talk and he was drunk. Maybe drunk enough to talk about things he didn’t want to talk about. Louis stepped back and Jesse stumbled in, dropping his keys as he fumbled with the zipper of his parka.

“I guess I’m a little tipsy,” he said, looking at Louis.

Louis reached down, picked up the rabbit’s foot and stuffed it roughly in Jesse’s jacket.

Jesse fell backward. “Hey, man, what’s with you?”

Louis turned away, going into the living room. He stood, his back to Jesse for several moments, trying to quell his anger. But he couldn’t hold it in.

“You son of a bitch,” he said, turning.

“Huh?”

“I know what you did.”

Jesse frowned. “What you talking about?”

“Angela and Johnny Lacey. I know how they really died.”

For a moment, nothing registered on Jesse’s face. Then, slowly, comprehension penetrated the alcohol fog. He closed his eyes and bent forward slightly as if he were going to vomit.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

Jesse staggered to the sofa and sank down into it. “How did you find out?” he said.

“That’s not important.”

Jesse covered his face with his hands. “It was an accident,” he said.

“It was murder.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

Louis waited, fearing Jesse was going to clam up but then Jesse let out a slow shudder. “We were outside the cabin,” he said. “It was really cold and I was antsy, you know?”

Jesse looked away. “I mean, I had just busted these kids and here they were out again, messing up somebody’s property and life. I was mad going in.”

When Jesse didn’t go on, Louis resisted the urge to prod him.

“We were standing out there in the snow, listening to them yelling at us to go fuck ourselves,” Jesse said. “I guess I made up my mind before that back door ever opened that someone was going to get hurt.” He fell silent again, staring at the fireplace.

“What happened?” Louis said.

“The back door opened and he took off running so I went after him,” Jesse said. “I jumped him and we fell in the snow. He was a big kid but I got on him and started swinging…”

“With your gun?” Louis pressed.

Jesse looked up at him with unfocused eyes. “Gun…my gun.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Bits and pieces, that’s what I remember,” Jesse said, the words slurred. “I had my gun out, we all did, because they had guns, too. But I don’t remember using it.”

“You beat him to death with it,” Louis said tightly.

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut. “I see his face….I see it and it’s changing, getting redder and redder….”

The room was silent again, except for the crackle of the fire. “What happened next?” Louis demanded.

“Someone pulled me off him,” Jesse said softly. “I had…blood…I had blood all over me.”

“He was dead?”

“I don’t know. The chief said he was.”

“Then you shot his face off?”

Jesse shook his head. “I remember the chief ordering Ollie to do it and Ollie yelling back that he wouldn’t. It happened so quick. I didn’t see who did, just heard the shot.”

“Where was Angela?” Louis asked.

Jesse voice dropped to a whisper. “I looked up and I saw her standing on the deck. Then they were cuffing her and she was screaming.”

“Who shot her?”

Jesse turned his head. “The chief.”

Louis walked slowly to the dark kitchen, unable to look at Jesse another second. He heard Jesse sniffling.

“Why did you let him do it?” he asked without turning.

There was no response. Louis turned. “Why, goddamn it?” he demanded.

Jesse was crying. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

Louis came back to stand in front of him. “You know!” he yelled in his face.

“I was scared!” Jesse said. “I was scared, all right? He said I’d go to prison. He said my life would be over!” He shook his head slowly. “And he was the chief! All my life, all my fucking life, no one treated me like he did. He fixed it and I let him.”

Louis glared at him. Jesse shielded his eyes with a trembling hand.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse said hoarsely. “Christ, I’m so sorry that girl had to die.”

“Her name was Angela.”

“Okay! Angela!” Jesse shouted. “I know she had a name, I always knew her name. It was Angela Lynn. I know who she was!”

Louis backed off and Jesse slumped into the cushions.

“Gibralter wrote your report, didn’t he?” Louis said.

Jesse nodded.

“And the others, too?”

Jesse nodded again.

“Who investigated this?” Louis asked.

“We did and then the city council had a hearing. It was a joke. We told them what happened and they believed us. They always did.”

“What about the kids’ mother?”

“Mother?”

“She didn’t try to do anything about it?”

Jesse shook his head. “I saw her at the hearing but she never said anything the whole time, just sat there listening with this weird look on her face. She left town a while later, after Cole went to Red Oak.”

“What about Cole? Did he see what happened?”

Jesse shook his head again. “I don’t know. Ollie and Fred found him hiding upstairs.”

“What about Pryce? Did he see anything?”

Jesse looked up. “Pryce?”

“Did he see what you did?”

Jesse shook his head.