P. Parrish - Dead of Winter

Lacey had left the others dead, out in the open to be found. Where was Jesse’s body? Louis trained the flashlight down again at the blood spots. There was so little, too little for a gun wound. Had Lacey subdued Jesse and taken him somewhere else?

Something drifted back to him in that instant, words, a threat. Who had said it? Dale, it was Dale, telling him what Cole had said to Jesse after Jesse attacked. You’re going to die special.

Louis hurried back to the Bronco and got in. “Chief, I think there’s a chance Jesse might still be alive,” he said.

Gibralter was staring vacantly out the windshield.

“Chief, listen to me. If Lacey wanted Jesse dead he’d have shot him and left him like the others,” Louis said. “Something is different this time.”

Gibralter looked over at him. “What are you talking about?”

Louis hesitated then told him what Cole had said. “I think he’s taken Jesse somewhere.”

“Why?”

Louis hesitated. “He wants you and he knows you’ll come after Jesse. But I also think he wants to torture him for what he did to Johnny.”

Gibralter stared at him.

“I know what Jesse did at the cabin,” Louis said. “And I know what you did to cover it up.”

Gibralter’s eyes went back to the windshield. Louis could see his jaw moving as his mind chewed on this revelation. He wasn’t about to tell him what he knew about Angela.

“You can’t protect him anymore,” Louis said slowly. “Not if you want to save him.”

Gibralter shut his eyes. It was quiet for a moment.

Gibralter’s voice was strained when he finally spoke. “We did what we had to, Kincaid.”

“That’s for the courts to decide,” Louis said.

“There are many versions of the truth. Everyone sees the one they need to see.”

“That’s not important right now.”

Gibralter gave a tired nod. “I suppose not.”

The Bronco fell quiet except for the low murmur of the radio.

“We’re going to get ahold of Steele,” Louis said.

“I told you what his man said to me,” Gibralter said, his voice rising in anger.

“But with his men, we can search — ”

“Search where?” Gibralter interrupted him. “We can’t find Lacey. No one can. It’s useless.”

Gibralter was right. With all of Steele’s resources no one had come close to finding Lacey’s hideout. No one even knew where to start looking.

“Cole,” Louis said. “Cole knows.”

“He won’t talk,” Gibralter said.

“We have to try.”

“How? We can’t get near Red Oak now.”

“Then we bring him here.”

“They won’t release him to me.”

“They would on a court order,” Louis said.

Gibralter looked over at him. Louis could not read what was in his eyes.

“Why are you here?” Gibralter asked quietly.

“I want to find Jesse,” Louis answered.

“But you don’t trust me,” Gibralter said.

“No. But if there’s a chance Jesse is alive I want to find him.”

“Even if he’s guilty? Even if I am guilty?”

“I told you, that’s for the courts to decide.”

Gibralter held his eyes for a moment then put the Bronco in gear. “Let’s go,” he said.

“Where?”

“Judge Frazier’s place. He’ll do the order. He owes me.”

“What about Steele?”

Gibralter glanced at him. “He’d block it. You know that.”

He was right. There was no way Steele would sanction Cole’s release for questioning even if it meant helping Jesse. If they were going to do this they would be on their own.

Gibralter was waiting, watching him, his face drawn in the orange glow of the dashboard lights. Louis looked out the windshield to where the beams faded into the darkness.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.

The guard looked down at the paper in his hand, then back up at Gibralter. “Maybe I better call Warren Little,” he said.

“That paper tells you everything you need to know,” Gibralter said.

Louis hung back, watching. The guard glanced nervously at the phone on his desk.

“Look,” Gibralter said, leaning forward. “Go get Cole Lacey or in the morning you’re going to find your fat ass covered in brass-plated shit from here to Lansing.”

The guard handed the paper back and disappeared down the hall. A metal door clanged, echoing in the hallway. Louis glanced at his watch. It was past midnight. He felt a bead of sweat make its way slowly down his back but he didn’t know if it was from dread over Jesse’s fate or his own. He knew when he agreed to this scheme that they would not be taking Cole back to Loon Lake. He knew there would be no by-the-book questioning under the watchful eye of Steele’s men. He knew Gibralter would do whatever was necessary to make Cole talk. What he didn’t know was if he had the stomach to go along with it.

The door clanged again. The guard was shoving Cole ahead of him. Cole wore only a denim shirt, pants and work boots. There was a large gauze patch on his forehead. When he saw the blue parkas, he froze.

Gibralter went to him and held out a police parka. “Put this on,” he said.

“Fuck you, man.”

“Then freeze your balls off, I don’t care,” Gibralter said. He grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the door.

“Hey! Where they taking me?” Cole yelled back over his shoulder. The guard turned away, going back to his desk.

Outside, Louis followed closely behind as Gibralter led Cole to the Bronco. Cole was squirming and spitting out obscenities, his lank hair whipping around his face. Louis opened the back door and Gibralter pushed Cole in then slammed the door.

Louis got in on the passenger side and flipped on the heater. Gibralter immediately turned it off, nodding toward Cole. Louis glanced back at him through the metal grating. The kid was huddled into the seat, shivering, his eyes wide with fear. Louis zipped up his jacket and stared straight ahead. The doubts began to crawl back.

Weeks ago, he never would have thought he could do something like this, break the rules, even his own. But all bets were off now. He was in new territory and he had no idea what else he was capable of doing.

“Where you taking me?” Cole asked.

Gibralter eyed him in the mirror. “To hell, you little prick.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re tired of dicking around, Cole. We want your old man. Tell us where he is and we’ll take you back.”

“Fuck you.”

Gibralter slammed on the brakes, sending Cole bouncing forward to the metal grate. Gibralter spun around, gun drawn.

Cole dove behind the seat. Gibralter pulled the trigger, the blast echoing in the truck. Louis jumped, afraid to look back. He turned to see a hole in the backseat.

“Get up,” Gibralter said.

Cole’s pale face appeared above the seat.

“Put on the fucking jacket. Now.”

Cole drew the parka over his thin arms, fighting tears. Louis detected the faint smell of urine.

Gibralter steered the Bronco off the highway and drove deep into the trees, plunging them into a cavern of darkness. They drove on, through the trees for several miles. Then, suddenly, Gibralter braked and killed the engine. For several seconds it was silent. Louis watched as the windshield quickly sheeted over with a blanket of snow. The sound of Cole’s ragged breathing drifted from the back.

“Get him out,” Gibralter said to Louis.

Louis opened his door and stepped down into ankle-high snow. Opening the back door he motioned Cole to get out. When Cole shrank back against the seat, Louis reached in and grabbed the police parka, dragging Cole out.

He dumped him into the snow. Cole leapt to his feet, his eyes darting to the trees, but Louis caught his parka, jerking him back. Cole’s fist shot out and Louis threw up and arm, blocking the kid’s weak punch. He wrapped one arm around Cole’s neck and reached back for his cuffs. Cole twisted, going for the gun in Louis’s belt.