by P J Parrish
“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.
“You’re sure?”
Jesse looked up at him. “He was out front...he...I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Louis stared at Jesse, trying to read his reddened eyes. They were filled with confusion -— or was it fear? Jesse looked away. Louis pressed closer to the sofa. He had to find out how far they had gone to cover up the mess.
“You knew Pryce suspected you, right?” he said.
Jesse wouldn’t look up at him.
“Pryce suspected something was dirty and you all knew it,” Louis said.
“Pryce was —- ” Jesse stopped himself.
“Pryce was what?”
Jesse stared into the fire, his face streaked with sweat and tears.
“Pryce was going to expose you,” Louis said. “He knew about Johnny and Angela and he was going to turn you all in.”
Jesse frowned, his eyes locked on the fire.
“Pryce was going to take everything to Steele and Gibralter knew it and told you,” Louis said. “So you killed him.”
Jesse’s eyes shot to Louis.
“You found Lacey —- ”
“Lacey?” Jesse interrupted.
“You planned it all out so he’d take the rap.”
Jesse was shaking his head, his mouth agape.
“You killed Pryce, you and Gibralter,” Louis said, leaning down on the arm of the sofa. “How’d you do it? How’d you find Lacey?”
A glimmer of comprehension registered in Jesse’s eyes. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding up a shaking hand.
Louis knew he should just shut up and let Jesse talk but his anger was pushing him forward now.
“How’d it feel?” Louis said, leaning down into Jesse’s face. “How’d it feel when you pulled the trigger and saw Pryce fall? How’d it feel when you heard Stephanie scream?”
“No, no...”
“You were this close,” Louis whispered, holding two fingers in front of Jesse’s face. “This close to being behind bars, your worst fear.”
“No, I didn’t —- ”
Louis’s hand balled into a fist and Jesse tried to squirm away. “How’d it feel?” Louis hissed.
Jesse swatted Louis’s hand and jumped to his feet. “No!” he yelled. “I didn’t kill Pryce! Lacey killed Pryce!”
Louis grabbed his arm. “You used Lacey! You killed Pryce and used Lacey to cover it up!”
Jesse jerked away, stumbling back. “You’re nuts! Lacey killed –- ”
“Yeah, stick to your story! You were stupid enough to let Gibralter suck you into one murder, why not more? Why not Ollie and Lovejoy? Tell me this, you bastard, who shot me in the back? You or him?”
Jesse stared at him, his face twisted.
Louis drew in a deep breath. Now that he had said it, put his thoughts into words, it didn’t seem so outrageous. For a second he felt a pang of sympathy for Jesse but it dissipated fast, replaced by rage. He couldn’t see Jesse as any kind of victim in this.
“Give it up,” Louis said.
Jesse was shaking his head, raking a hand through his hair.
“Maybe you can strike a deal for Gibralter,” Louis said.
“No,” Jesse said quickly. “No, no.”
Louis r
eached out to grab Jesse’s arm but Jesse spun away, stumbling against the counter and knocking over a stool. He pulled himself upright and started to the door.
“Where are you going?” Louis said.
Jesse didn’t answer.
“Stop,” Louis said, moving toward the door.
Jesse glared at him. “Either you arrest me or let me get the fuck out of here.”
Louis started to the counter to get his cuffs from his belt but Jesse moved more quickly, pulling out his gun and pointing it at Louis.
Louis stared at the gun, not moving. “Jess, this isn’t the answer.”
“Let me go, Louis. I’ve got something to take care of.”
Jesse moved slowly toward the door.
“Don’t do this, don’t make it worse,” Louis said.
Jesse flung open the door and ran out, the door banging against the wall and slamming closed behind him.
“Jess!”
Louis grabbed his gun, ran to the door and jerked it open. He ran outside and stood for a moment, scanning the darkness. He went quickly around the side of the cabin. Jesse’s cruiser was parked where he had left it. Louis circled the cruiser, peering inside. An empty Jack Daniel’s bottle lay on the seat.
“Jesse!” he shouted.
He ran up the driveway toward the main road. He stopped, looking off into the night. Fresh boot prints led off down the road in the direction of town.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
He had blown it. He had tipped his hand and let Jesse get away. And now he was probably on his way to alert Gibralter.
Louis looked down the road and scanned the dark trees. He shivered. He had been walking in Pryce’s shadow for weeks and now, like Pryce, he was a threat.
He went quickly back into the cabin. He locked the door and pulled all the curtains closed. He paused to survey the room then dragged around a chair from the corner to face the door. He turned off the lights.
The walls of the cabin pulsated with the light of the dying fire. Picking up his gun and portable radio, he sat down in the chair. He pulled the afghan up around his chest and over the gun resting in his lap.
CHAPTER 37
The cabin was dark and cold. He had let the fire burn out, not wanting to have any light detectable from outside.
The phone rang but he ignored it. It was the fourth time it had rung in the two hours since Jesse had left, and each time he had let it ring. This time, though, it wouldn’t stop, and finally he jumped out of the chair and grabbed it.
“Yeah?”
“Louis?” It was a woman.
“Who is this?”
“Julie Harrison, Jesse’s wife. Is Jesse there?”
“No, Julie. He was, but he left hours ago.”
“Oh, God...”
He could hear the fear in her voice and wished he had lied.
“Do you know where he went?”
“No, I don’t. Julie...Julie?”
She was crying.
“Listen, Julie –- ”
She had hung up. Louis set the phone back in the cradle and returned to his chair. He pulled the afghan over his shoulders and laid the gun in his lap. He massaged his right hand; it was stiff from gripping the gun.
He glanced at his watch. Just past eleven. His whole body was stiff with tension but sleep was out of the question. He had decided on his plan -— just get through the night until the morning when Steele was due back from Detroit.
A crackle of static drew his attention to the portable radio on the table at his side. “All units in the area, stand by for a BOLO.”
Louis picked up the radio, turning up the volume on Edna’s voice. “L-1 advises to be on the lookout for L-13. Subject has not been in contact with his residence and is reported missing.”
Louis listened as Edna gave a brief description of Jesse. Damn him. His wife was going crazy worrying about him and the asshole was probably passed out in a snowdrift somewhere.
He tensed. A light appeared against the curtain, the wash of headlights on the trees. He heard a car and then silence as the motor died. He shrugged off the afghan and gripped the gun.
Footsteps on the porch, heavy, a man. A knock.
“Kincaid! You in there?”
Gibralter.
Louis rose slowly, holding the gun at his side as he slid along the wall toward the kitchen.
“Kincaid! It’s the chief. I need to talk to you.”
He looked out the kitchen window and saw the Bronco. His chest tightened and he flexed his fingers around the grip of the gun. What was Gibralter doing here? He didn’t come to kill him, not in the Bronco, right here at the cabin. He was too smart for that.
Louis went to the door. “What do you want?” he called out.
“I’m looking for Jesse,” Gibralter called back.
There was something strange in Gibralter’s voice, a quiver of concern.
“Kincaid? His cruiser’s here. Is he there with you?”
“He left.”
“When?”
“Two hours ago.”
There was silence on the other side of the door and then Louis heard the retreat of footsteps from the porch. He went quickly to the kitchen window. Through the falling snow, he could see Gibralter shining a flashlight into Jesse’s cruiser. He headed back to the porch and pounded again on the door.
“Kincaid! Let me in. I need your help.”
Louis hesitated, debating what to do. He slipped the gun in his belt at the small of his back and unlocked the door.
Gibralter’s silhouette filled the door frame. “Why do you have the lights out?” he asked.
“I was asleep,” Louis said.
Gibralter took a step inside. Louis switched on a lamp, blinking in the light. Gibralter glanced around the cabin, his eyes coming back quickly to Louis. “Jesse’s missing,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Julie’s called the station twice. He didn’t make it home.”
“Maybe he stopped for a drink,” Louis said. He was careful to stand a good ten feet away.
“On foot? There are no bars between here and his place.”
Louis watched Gibralter carefully, trying to reconcile what he knew about the man with what he was seeing in his eyes, a strange look of dread.
“What was he doing here?” Gibralter asked.
“He wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“About you firing him today.”
“Was he drunk?”
“Wasted.”
“Why’d you let him leave on foot?”
“We argued. He ran out.”
Gibralter paused, his eyes steady on Louis. “I fired Jess to protect him.”
“He doesn’t see it that way.”
Gibralter let out a sigh. “I know. I didn’t handle it well.”
Louis stared at him. Bullshit.
“Kincaid, I need your help. I’ve got a bad feeling about this and we’ve got to find him.”
“What about Steele?”
“I tried. He’s gone until tomorrow.” Gibralter’s face hardened. “The moron he left in charge told me to go fuck myself.”
“What about your own men?”
“They’re already searching. Edna called here twice trying to get you. Didn’t you hear the phone?”
“I told you, I was asleep.”
“That’s why I came out here, thought maybe something happened to you.”
“Why’d you think that?”
“Lacey shot at you once,” Gibralter said. “He’ll do it again.”
Louis just stared at him.
“Come on, get your coat,” Gibralter said.
“I’m not going with you,” Louis said.
“Why the hell not?”
For a second, Louis thought of confronting Gibralter with what he knew about Angela and Johnny and with what he suspected about Pryce and the others. But if it was true that Jesse was missing then Gibralter was still in the dark. And it was foolish, even dangerous, t
o alert him to what he knew. It would all come out tomorrow anyway when Steele got back.
Gibralter was waiting for an answer. When he realized Louis was not going to go, he nodded grimly and started down off the porch. He stopped and turned back to face Louis.
“I’ve got blood on my hands,” he said softly.
Louis stared at him.
“Three of my men are dead, two of them because I was too proud to get help,” Gibralter said. “Jesse and I are the only ones left. I have to find him.”
Louis tried to read the emotion in Gibralter’s eyes but all he could see was fatigue and stress. The man looked pulled too tight, as if he knew everything was coming to an end.
Gibralter squinted at him through the falling snow. “I don’t like you, Kincaid. You know that, it’s no secret. But I don’t want to lose any more men, Jesse or you. Now will you come with me or not?”
When Louis didn’t answer, Gibralter shook his head and walked away. As Louis watched him his heart quickened. Jesus, what if he was wrong? What if Lacey had killed all three cops? What
if Jesse was lying out in the snow, easy prey for Lacey’s scope? No matter what Jesse had done, he deserved a trial, not a sniper’s bullet in his back. And no matter what he thought of Gibralter, he couldn’t sit here like a coward while the others were out searching.
“Wait!”
Gibralter turned.
“Give me a minute to get ready.”
“Dress warm,” Gibralter said. “We might end up on foot.”
The wipers kept up their monotonous rhythm as they drove slowly toward the main road. From the radio came Edna’s steady murmur, directing the other men on their search. Gibralter reached down and keyed the mike.
“Central, this is L-1. I’m 10-8 with L-11, joining the search.” He clicked off. “You sure he went in this direction?” Gibralter asked Louis.
“It’s the only road up away from the lake,” Louis said.
“Maybe he went down to the lake.”
“No, I saw his prints.” Louis was training the outside spotlight on the snowy shoulder. “He was too drunk to drive. Maybe he tried to walk home.”
“That’s three miles from here.”
It was quiet except for the groan of the wipers and an occasional spurt of radio voices. Louis moved his elbow so he could feel his gun against his ribs under his parka. He hadn’t bothered with the bulky uniform belt, just stuck the gun and his cuffs in the belt of his jeans.