Dead of Winter

by P J Parrish

  “It’s more than that.”

  “What? That thing in Mississippi? I don’t —- ”

  “It’s more than that too.”

  Gibralter held the newly made bullet between his thumb and forefinger, moving it so it caught the light.

  “See this?” he said softly. “This can take a life or it can save a life. We decide.”

  Jesse waited. He knew there was no point of doing otherwise when the chief was in this kind of mood.

  Gibralter finally looked over at him. “We enforce the law, right? But what is the law?”

  Jesse wondered if Gibralter expected an answer this time. He was relieved when Gibralter put aside the finished bullet and picked up another empty casing.

  “What is the law?” Gibralter repeated. “A bunch of statutes in a courthouse somewhere? A set of old leather books in a lawyer’s office? Nine old men in black robes?” Gibralter shook his head. “People want to see the law as this beautiful clean-running stream. But it’s not like that. It can’t be because there is always someone kicking up the bottom or throwing in shit.”

  Jesse stared at him, uncomprehending.

  “That’s what Kincaid does,” Gibralter said.

  Jesse moved to a chair and sat down.

  “I don’t think he can be trusted.” Gibralter said. “You can trust me. You know that, don’t you, Jess?”

  “Sure,” Jesse bowed his head, running a hand through his hair. When he looked up Gibralter was watching him.

  “You remember that New Year’s Eve you showed up at my house at three a.m. shit-faced?” Gibralter said.

  Jesse nodded slowly.

  Gibralter took a swig of beer. “You were seventeen. You ran away from the halfway house and you showed up on my doorstep, half frozen and drunk from that Boone’s Farm shit you stole from the party store.”

  Jesse nodded again, his gaze going to the floor.

  “You sat on Jeannie’s new white sofa, dripping on her new carpet. You were trying so damn hard to look tough. You said your girlfriend dumped you. What was her name?”

  “Dee Dee,” Jesse whispered.

  “You said you had called your father.” Gibralter paused. “You remember what he told you? He told you that your running away was the best thing that ever happened to your family. He told you not to call back. You remember that, Jess?”

  Jesse said nothing.

  Gibralter came over to stand at his side. “You asked me for a glass of water. I went into the kitchen and you picked up my service revolver off the bar.”

  “You saw that?”

  Gibralter nodded. “I knew what you were thinking of doing.”

  “You would have let me do it?”

  Gibralter put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, cupping the knotty muscle. “Jess, the gun was empty.”

  “Jesus,” Jesse breathed, looking away. He rose, going to the window.

  “But I knew you wouldn’t do it,” Gibralter said. “You didn’t let me down then and you never have since. And I know you never will.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Jesse said after a moment.

  “Get what?”

  He turned to look at Gibralter. “Why’d you split us up?”

  Gibralter’s eyes softened. “Sit down, Jess. I’ll tell you,” he said.

  CHAPTER 26

  The blackness stretched before them, a tunnel of trees, asphalt and night sky. The snow, caught in a glare of the cruiser’s headlights, rushed toward them out of the dark void.

  “Looks kind of like the Enterprise at warp speed,” Ollie said.

  Louis didn’t reply. He sat back in the passenger seat, adjusting his body to get the gun butt out of his ribs. He was tired, beyond tired and moving fast toward exhaustion. All his life he had been a light sleeper and had learned to function on five hours of fitful sleep. But the churning wake of the week’s events had left him storm tossed, with the burning eyes, heavy limbs and dulled brain of a drowning man. And now he was riding night shift.

  Louis closed his eyes and leaned his temple against the cold window. He wasn’t going to make it through the shift awake. New Year’s Eve. The drunks would be out in force soon.

  “You haven’t said a word for two hours, Kincaid,” Ollie said.

  Reluctantly, Louis opened his eyes and looked over. Ollie Wickshaw was tall and thin, all angles, elbows and eggshell skin. He had a weird mechanical way of moving, as though he were built from Erector set parts. Louis had watched him earlier that night as he got into the cruiser, folding his body down into the seat like one of those old-fashioned wooden carpenter rulers.

  Louis focused on Ollie’s hands gripping the wheel. His fingers had the pale brown tint of a chain smoker. Ollie reached up on the dash for his pack of Kools and with a few snaps of movement had the cigarette lit and in his mouth.

  “They say I’m the man of few words around here,” Ollie said.

  Louis cracked the window. “It’s not personal.”

  “I know.”

  They rode another mile and Louis looked at his watch. It was almost 1 a.m. and he hadn’t eaten. They hadn’t had a call in an hour.

  “Is there someplace open to get something to eat?” Louis asked.

  “On New Year’s? Jo-Jo’s about it.” Ollie pushed a brown bag toward Louis on the seat. “You can share my dinner. Got some carrots and celery sticks in there and a soy burger. You ever tried soy?”

  Louis sank deeper into the seat. “No.”

  “Tastes just like hamburger but you have to know how to work it, you know, seasonings. Cumin is good. And there’s this Cajun spice stuff I get over at Grayling. I buy it by the case. I’m a vegetarian. Gave up meat eight years ago. The other guys think I’m a little strange but meat’s bad for the arteries. You ever seen a picture of an artery coated with plaque?”

  “Nope,” Louis said. “You ever seen a picture of a smoker’s lungs?”

  Ollie glanced at him, blinked twice, and looked back out at the road.

  Louis sighed, resting his head back against the seat. Wickshaw didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t his fault Gibralter was such a prick. He had just decided to apologize when Ollie spoke.

  “You have to know him.”

  “Who?” Louis asked.

  “The chief. He’s not what you think.”

  “Right.”

  “He’s an Aries.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the chief’s sun sign. Aries.”

  Louis rolled his eyes. Not that shit.

  “Aries have an inbred desire to be in charge. To be number one. All the great leaders were Aries.” Ollie reached down to snuff his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What are you?”

  Don’t even answer this, Kincaid.

  “I bet you’re a Scorpio.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I do charts. You ever had your chart done?”

  “No. It’s bullshit.”

  Ollie was quiet for several miles. They passed the road to the lake and Ollie made a left turn. The headlights illuminated a sign that said: U.S. 33 4 MILES.

  “Where and what time were you born?” Ollie asked.

  Louis stared out the window. “Five-thirty a.m. Mississippi.”

  “Ah.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you have Libra rising. Of course, I would have to calculate the exact hour to be sure but it’s a fair guess. Libra is the sign —- ”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Of beauty and fairness. Its symbol is the balanced scales. You must get very confused sometimes.”

  Louis didn’t reply. He watched Ollie use his free hand to open his Ziploc bag and pull out a carrot.

  “Scorpios are very moody and often immerse themselves in the morbid and sometimes violent aspects of life,” Ollie said, between bites of the carrot. “You probably have a Mars or Mercury in Aries, which would account for your love of police work. Aries is the god of war and rules police and the military.”

  “So why a
m I confused?” Louis asked. He couldn’t believe he was asking this nut anything.

  “Because Libra is your secondary ruler and Libras are very peaceful by nature. Totally nonviolent. So, you see, you have this urge to subject yourself to violence yet your gentler nature abhors it. Thus, the confusion.”

  Louis stared at him.

  “Want a carrot?” Ollie asked.

  Louis nodded and took one.

  “Should I go on?” Ollie asked.

  Louis nodded slowly, munching on the carrot.

  “I bet you like very passionate women.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Louis laughed. The laugh trailed off quickly. He didn’t need to be thinking of Zoe right now.

  “No, not really. But you like women who drive you crazy, physically and mentally. The woman you will marry is elusive by nature, mysterious and probably loves the water.”

  “The water?”

  “As do you.”

  “I never thought about it one way or the other.”

  “You should,” Ollie said, looking at him. The dashboard lights caught Ollie’s benign eyes. “The water is where you need to settle.”

  “Well, I get the feeling the chief is not going to let me do that. I don’t think he wants me here.”

  “It doesn’t have to be here. There’s lots of water in the world.” Ollie held out the Ziploc. “Another carrot?”

  Louis shook his head. They drove on without speaking for several miles while Louis stared out at the swirling snow. The radio belched a burst of static. Ollie reached over to turn down the volume.

  “Hey, Ollie,” Louis said finally.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For that crack I made about smoking.”

  Ollie’s veiny temples twitched. “Forget it. I should quit anyway. Would make my wife happy. But it’s my only vice left.” He suddenly slowed the car and did a U-turn.

  “What are you doing?” Louis asked.

  “The Castle might be open. I mean, if you’re desperate.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  They were heading back toward town now. After several miles, Louis spotted the neon halo of the White Castle hamburger joint arching above the dark trees. Ollie swung the cruiser up to the curb and shoved it into park. Louis moved to open the door.

  “Jess is a Virgo,” Ollie said. “Virgo rules your twelfth house.”

  “What’s that?” Louis asked. “The house of partners?”

  “Your house of secrets,” Ollie said.

  Louis stared at him for a moment then closed the door. He went inside and ordered six burgers, fries and a coffee. He watched his burgers sizzle then glanced back at Ollie through the sweaty glass. House of secrets. What crap.

  He paid for the burgers, grabbed the white bag and walked out, checking his watch. Only three hours to go. He started across the damp parking lot, thinking of Jesse. And then Zoe’s face flitted across his mind, hovering there for a moment like a phantom. He paused, popped off the coffee lid and took a sip. His eyes were burning from fatigue and he looked across the parking lot, trying to focus on the black stand of pines. A ground fog had left the lower trunks shrouded, making the huge trees look as though they were floating in the night. House of secrets. His house, but whose secrets?

  Louis climbed back in the warm car and opened the bag.

  “Don’t suppose you want one?” Louis said, offering the bag of fries.

  Ollie shook his head with a smile and pulled the cruiser out of the lot. They rode on in silence as Louis downed the burgers. He found himself watching a small medallion that hung from the rearview mirror. It took a moment before he realized it was an arrowhead.

  “What’s with that?” he asked, pointing.

  Ollie gave him a half-smile. “You sure you want to know?”

  Louis finished the last fry and stuffed the trash in a bag. “Yeah, I’ll bite.”

  “It’s a jasper quartz arrowhead,” Ollie said. “The Indians believed it had special powers to keep them safe against their enemies.”

  “Didn’t work too well against the white man, did it?”

  Ollie let the remark go. Keeping a tight grip on the wheel, he headed the car through the center of town. Louis stifled a yawn and leaned back in the seat, watching the arrowhead sway back and forth. The dispatcher’s voice ignited the silent radio to life. Ollie turned up the volume.

  “Loon-8 and Loon-11, we have a report of a trash fire at mile marker 7, County Road 329, two miles off Highway 33. Do you copy?”

  “Great,” Louis said under his breath. He keyed the mike. “Ten-four, Central. We’re en route.”

  County Road 329 was a dark two-lane road that stretched east toward Lake Huron. It was bordered by acres of open, snow-covered meadows that loomed out to the ridges of the Huron National Forest. It was a stark, almost alien-looking landscape, white open patches of emptiness set down in the dark canyon walls of the ancient pine trees.

  The brush fire was clearly visible as the cruiser rounded a final curve. Ollie pulled over to the shoulder, leaving the rear of the cruiser on the asphalt.

  Louis got out first, standing near the door of the unit. There wasn’t a house or an electric light of any kind. Just the rotating red and blue lights of the cruiser and, far off in the meadow near the trees, the eerie orange glow of the fire.

  He reached for his flashlight and shined it into the open field. The fire was burning high in an old oil drum. He trained the light on the distant pines, casting feeble arcs into the shadows there. Nothing.

  Kids, probably just kids. He drew in a deep breath of cold air. But why were the hairs on his neck standing up?

  Everything he knew about Lacey told him that the man wouldn’t strike in a place like this. He had shot both his victims when they were in places where they felt safe, places and situations where a cop was least likely to be acting like a cop. This was too...set. It wasn’t Lacey’s style.

  The trunk of the cruiser popped open and Louis jumped.

  “What are you doing?” Louis hissed.

  “Getting your vest,” Ollie said.

  Louis set the flashlight on the hood of the car and stripped off his jacket. Ollie held the heavy vest out to Louis. The wind whipped against his back as Louis slid on the vest. Shivering, he hustled back into his jacket.

  “Where’s yours?” Louis asked.

  “I’m wearing it.”

  Louis picked up the flashlight and swept it again over the meadow, looking for some sign of a vehicle. There was nothing, not even a track in the pristine snow.

  “Could be kids,” Ollie said.

  Louis shook his head. “Only reason to set a fire way out here is to burn something you don’t want anyone to find.” He didn’t add what he was thinking, that maybe they had stumbled upon evidence Lacey was trying to hide, that maybe there was another dead cop out there somewhere.

  “Well, whatever it is we’ve got to check it out,” Ollie said.

  “I’ll go,” Louis said, looking at the fire.

  “I think I should.”

  “Why? Did your horoscope tell you that?”

  “Actually, it said I should avoid confrontations on the job today.”

  Louis put on his gloves. “Well, that settles it. I’m going.”

  Ollie nodded and reached in the car to get the radio. “Central, I’m staying with the unit. L-11 is on foot.”

  Louis climbed the snowbank and started out into the field. Away from the cruiser, the darkness engulfed him and he felt his heart begin to beat faster. He stepped carefully, the powdery snow growing deeper with each move. The fire was an orange blur against the black wall of trees.

  He squinted, knowing his lack of sleep had affected his eyesight and probably his thinking. He felt as if every nerve in his body was trembling with adrenaline.

  Suddenly, he sank to his knees in the snow and he fell forward, catching himself on his hands. He got up, yanked off his gloves and shook out the s
now. He wiped down the flashlight and turned to look back at the cruiser. It looked small and far away. Ollie, standing by the driver door, looked even smaller.

  As he neared the drum, he could smell gasoline and hear the faint crackle of the fire. He aimed the flashlight at the drum. The snow at its base was packed down, but he still could see no prints leading anywhere.

  The voice pierced the quiet and he jumped. Edna...Christ, it was just Edna, her voice coming from the portable radio on his belt. She was asking Ollie for a code-4 to make sure they were all right. He heard Ollie respond.

  Louis stopped a few feet short of the drum and scanned the snow. Now he could see prints, sloppy and distorted in the snow, as if someone had moved around the drum at length. The prints led off toward the pines.

  He picked up a stick and stepped forward, poking the stick into the drum. It hit something solid, sending a blizzard of orange embers up into the sky and the fire blazing to new life. He lifted a burning rag out of the fire and tossed it into the snow. Damn it. He couldn't tell what was in there. It could be a body for all he knew. He had to put it out.

  “L-8,” he said, calling Ollie from his portable, “I’m going to throw some snow on it to see if I can determine what’s burning.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Louis threw the stick aside and stuck the radio back on his belt. He bent down to scoop up some snow.

  Something snapped in the distance. What was it? A branch? An animal?

  Louis looked back toward the cruiser. A chill prickled his spine and his hand jerked to his radio.

  A loud crack fractured the silence and at the same time, something hit him hard from behind, slamming him to the ground. He couldn’t breathe. Frantically, he tried to raise his face from the snow and immediately felt a sharp pain somewhere near his spine. He coughed, fighting for breath, trying to wipe the snow away.

  God, God...he was hit.

  Another crack pierced the quiet. Struggling up on his elbows, he wrenched his radio from his belt and keyed it with trembling fingers.

  “Central! Central! Shots fired! Shots fired! I’m hit!”

  Edna immediately hailed Ollie. There was no response from him. Louis lay still, trying to think. Head back to the cruiser? Wait for backup? The radio trembled in his hand.