Dead of Winter

by P J Parrish

  Think. Think. Think about the man. Think like he thinks.

  Even if Jesse had turned he couldn’t see Gibralter killing him. It was more logical that he do something to intimidate Jesse until he could win back his loyalty. But what? Gibralter had always used people’s weaknesses to control them -- Cole’s fear of abuse, Louis’s need for justice, Zoe’s fear of being alone. Gibralter controlled Jesse all his life. How would he do it now?

  The cruiser rumbled over one last set of rocks and hit pavement. The black road stretched out into the night.

  Louis closed his eyes. Gibralter would take Jesse to a place that instilled fear, a feeling that if he didn’t come around he would die. It would also be a place where Gibralter could return to, once again playing the role of savior.

  Louis stared out the fogged window as the lake came into view. He wiped away the condensation with his sleeve. There was a faint pink glow in the eastern sky, dawn. Out on the dark expanse of the lake he saw a soft glow. A lantern, someone firing up a fishing shanty.

  His eyes swung to the mesh screen that separated him from the two troopers.

  Louis put a hand on the screen.

  Lockhart glanced back. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Louis looked back at the lake. He knew. God, he knew.

  “Turn here. Turn left up here,” Louis said.

  “What?”

  “I said turn left. Here!” Louis shouted.

  Lockhart cruised on past the snowy side road. “Where?”

  Louis hit the screen with his palm. “Stop! Jesus Christ, turn around. Turn around now!”

  Lockhart backed up, swung the cruiser around and started down the narrow road.

  “There,” Louis said, “at the end, by the shore. That green house. Pull in there.”

  The cruiser edged closer, bogged down by the deep drifts.

  “We’re going to get stuck,” Lockhart warned.

  “Fuck it,” Louis said. He moved to open the door but realized he couldn’t. It only opened from the outside. “Let me out. Come on, let me out!”

  Lockhart stopped the car and jerked open the back door. Louis jumped from the cruiser and ran through the snow. He fell, scrambled up and rushed on.

  When he hit the porch of Lovejoy’s cabin he tore off the yellow crime-scene seal on the door and pushed. It was locked.

  “Goddamn it!” he shouted. He kicked at the door then kicked again. Using his full weight, he shoved at the door with his shoulder and it sprang open.

  He stumbled through the dark living room, grappling for lights. The walls were like ice, the air so cold it burned his lungs. He tripped on a small table and kicked it aside. He hurried through the darkness, shoving open the bedroom door at the end of the dark hall.

  His hand shot to the switch and he slapped at it, flooding the room in light. His heart stopped.

  Jesse was in the dog cage, both wrists handcuffed to the wire, his head resting against the cage, the dog blanket across his legs. His face was covered with a light frost, his lips were purple and there was a thin line of dried blood on his cheek.

  Louis dropped to his knees, stuck his hand through the wire and pressed two fingers against Jesse’s neck. A pulse. He could feel a pulse.

  “Jesus Christ,” Lockhart whispered from behind him.

  Louis threw out his hand. “Give me your cuff key.”

  CHAPTER 43

  A rush of warm air greeted Louis as he pushed through the double glass doors of the hospital. Seeing his police parka, the woman at the reception desk nodded at him, and he hurried to the elevator.

  Only nine hours had passed since he had pulled the trigger on the shotgun and only a little less than that since he had carried Jesse’s half-frozen body out of Lovejoy’s cabin. But it felt like a lifetime had passed, as if the world had been tilted onto a new off-balance axis.

  Early that morning, he had checked Jesse into the hospital then gone to the station to write his report for Steele. The report had stretched to seven pages. He had left it in a sealed envelope, not wanting the mob of reporters to get wind of it before it was necessary.

  At home, he had tried to sleep. But finally he had given up, showered and put on a fresh uniform. He thought of going to Zoe. Someone, another man in a uniform, had already been to see her that morning, to tell her about her husband. He wondered if they told her how he died. He wondered if they told her who had killed him. He knew he would have to face her soon. He just didn’t know how.

  Finally, not knowing where else to go, he had come to the hospital. He wanted to be at Jesse’s side when he woke up.

  Louis punched the elevator button and waited.

  “Kincaid.”

  Louis didn’t turn at the sound of Delp’s voice coming from behind him.

  “I knew you’d show up here,” Delp said. “I’ve been waiting.”

  “What do you want, Delp?” He punched the button again.

  “A quote I can print.”

  “I can’t talk about anything yet. It’s still under investigation.”

  “But you shot Gibralter, right?”

  The door opened and Louis got in. Delp followed.

  “Did you shoot Lacey, too?”

  Louis wouldn’t’ look at him.

  “Come on, man,” Delp pressed. “You promised me the story.”

  The door opened and Louis stepped out. Down the hall, he saw a trooper standing outside Cole Lacey’s room, talking to a tall man in black. It was Steele. Steele looked up at the sound of the elevator, staring down the hall at Louis.

  Louis hesitated then walked slowly toward him. Steele saw Delp trailing behind and shot him a contemptuous look.

  “Leave us alone, please,” he said to Delp.

  “I’ve got a right to —- ”

  “Get lost,” Steele hissed.

  With a frown, Delp moved away. Steele waited until Delp retreated behind the window of a waiting room.

  “I read your report,” he said. “I also spoke to Cole Lacey. Your stories don’t jibe.”

  “What?”

  “Cole says you both took him from Read Oak, that you held him down while Gibralter threatened to sodomize him with a branch and that you held his father while Gibralter shot him.”

  Louis shook his head slowly.

  “He also says you talked him into throwing down his weapon then shot him.”

  “He’s lying.”

  “Ballistics showed your gun fired both the bullets we dug out of Cole and his father.”

  “I told you, Gibralter had my gun.”

  “Cole says that after you shot him, you fired on Gibralter for no reason at all.”

  “Jesus Christ, Steele, does that make any sense to you?”

  Steele just stared at him.

  Louis ran a hand over his eyes. “Look, I went along with Gibralter’s plan but when I knew it was getting out of hand I tried to stop it. When Gibralter told me he killed Pryce, I knew he was going to kill Cole, too. I went along to stop him. I tried –- ”

  He stopped, seeing the disdain on Steele’s face. He leaned back against the wall. “It’s all in the damn report.”

  Steele was silent, studying his face. “Kincaid, your fellow officers tell me you and Gibralter didn’t like each other. I saw your personnel file, the reports Gibralter wrote up on you. You yourself tried to tell me he was dirty. I think this was more personal than what is in that report.”

  Louis stared at him. Had he found out about Zoe? If that came out, no one would believe him. Everyone would think he killed Gibralter because of her.

  “Steele, listen,” Louis said. “I am a cop, a good cop, whether you want to believe it or not. Gibralter was crazy. I shot him to save a sixteen-year-old punk who didn’t deserve to die. I’m not sorry.”

  Louis pushed himself off the wall. “I’m going to see Harrison.”

  Steele caught his arm. “Out of professional courtesy, I will give you a few minutes with your partner then one of my men will arrest you.”


  “On what charges?”

  “Obstruction of justice, attempted sexual assault on a prisoner, conspiracy, excessive force and anything else I can think of. And unless that kid changes his story, I’ll add homicide.”

  Louis jerked away and started down the hall to Jesse’s room. He paused, watching Steele disappear into the elevator. Damn it, he wasn’t going to let this happen without a fight. He backtracked to Cole’s room.

  Cole’s eyes snapped up as the door opened. When he saw Louis he looked back at the television.

  “I want to talk to you,” Louis said.

  “No way, man.”

  Louis moved into Cole’s line of vision. “I saved your life. Why didn’t you tell Steele that?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because it’s the truth. And it’s about time someone started telling the truth.”

  “Yeah, like you guys know something about telling the truth. They’re dead, they’re all dead because of you.” He paused. “Even my fucking old man.”

  “There was nothing I could do about your father, Cole.”

  “What about the rest of it? You didn’t have to take me out of Red Oak! You didn’t have to stand there while he hit me with that tree! You didn’t have to...fuck. Just forget it.”

  Louis grabbed the remote from Cole’s hand and clicked it off. “I didn’t have to kill a cop to save you either.”

  Louis tossed the remote onto the bed. Cole’s eyes went to it, staying there.

  Louis moved closer to the bed. “Look, my life is in your hands, Cole. I’m asking you for help. I’m asking you to tell Steel what happened out there last night.”

  “Fuck you,” Cole murmured.

  “All I’m asking you to do is tell the truth!”

  “Someone has to pay!” Cole shot back.

  “For what? For Johnny, for Angela? Christ, Cole, I wasn’t even there! Why are you trying to bury me?”

  “Because you’re a cop. Someone has to pay.”

  Louis shook his head in disgust. “Justice, huh? Is that what you want? Is that what this is all about? Let me tell you about justice. If you don’t tell what happened, the man who shot Angela will be buried with honors. The man who beat your brother to death will go on being a cop. And me, the man who saved your ass, will go to prison. And you...you will go back to Red Oak for five more years.”

  Cole was staring at him.

  “Your anger will eat you up, you’ll end up in jail,” Louis went on, “and ten years from now someone will kill you with a shiv in the shower at Marquette and you’ll be buried in a prison cemetery.”

  Louis shook his head. “That isn’t justice, Cole, that’s stupidity.”

  Cole’s eyes glistened with tears but before they could fall he looked away.

  “Cole, tell the truth,” Louis said. “Forget about me. You owe it to your brother and sister. If you don’t tell the truth, no one will ever know what really happened. Tell the truth about five years ago and about last night.”

  “Who am I supposed to tell?” Cole spat out. “That asshole in the suit? He’s a cop. I ain’t talking to no more cops.”

  “Okay. How about a reporter?”

  Cole frowned. “What? Like on TV?”

  “Newspapers,” Louis said.

  “He’ll write down what I tell him?”

  “If it’s the truth.”

  “Will Harrison go to jail?”

  “I don’t know. That will be up to a judge.”

  Cole wiped at his eyes, looking up at Louis. “But people will know, right? They’ll know about Johnny, they’ll know he wasn’t really bad? They’ll know Angela didn’t do anything wrong? They’ll know, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they’ll know I was too scared to do anything that night?”

  Louis imagined the frightened eleven-year-old, huddled in the closet of the Eden cabin. “Yes, they’ll know,” he said.

  Cole’s eyes fell. He picked at the edge of the blanket. “All right. I’ll tell him.”

  Louis stepped out into the hall. The trooper had found a chair nearby and was deep into his magazine. Louis saw Delp sitting in the waiting room. He waved, catching his attention and motioning him down. Delp hurried down the hall.

  “Get out your notebook,” Louis said. “You’re going to get the biggest story of your life.”

  “You’re awake.”

  Jesse looked up to see Louis standing at the door.

  “Yeah, on and off.”

  With a grimace, Jesse tried to sit up straighter in the bed. Louis came forward and slipped an arm behind his back, helping him.

  “Thanks.” Jesse held up his bandaged hands. “Doc says I might lose a finger, maybe a toe.”

  “I’m sorry,” Louis said.

  Jesse shrugged, his gaze dropping to the bed. Louis let out a breath, not knowing where to start.

  “I know what happened,” Jesse said. “Dale was here earlier and told me what he knew.”

  “He told you I shot Gibralter?”

  Jesse nodded.

  Louis hesitated. “I’m sorry for what I said when you came to my cabin to talk. I was wrong.”

  Jesse shook his head slowly. “You weren’t wrong about Johnny Lacey.”

  “But the other stuff, you —- ”

  “Forget it,” Jesse said quickly. “If you hadn’t accused me of those other things I would have never figured things out, that the chief...” His voice trailed off.

  When Jesse spoke again, it was in a whisper. “I was on my way to see him,” he said. “He picked me up on the road and I told him it was over, that we couldn’t keep the raid quiet anymore.”

  Jesse paused, not looking at Louis. “That’s when he told me everything. He told me we had to see it through together. But I couldn’t anymore, not after he told me he killed Pryce.”

  “You told him you were turning yourself in?” Louis asked.

  Jesse nodded. “That’s when...”

  “He put you in the back of the Bronco,” Louis finished.

  Jesse picked at the gauze on his left hand. It was quiet except for the hum of a monitor above the bed.

  “I was laying in that cage,” Jesse said softly. “I was laying there and after a while it was like the cold affected my brain or something and I could see things real clear. I saw what he did, what he was. And I saw what I did, really saw it.”

  He looked at Louis. “I knew I was going to die but I saw it was, like okay, suddenly.” He shook his head slowly. “Seppuku.”

  Louis looked up. “What?” he asked softly.

  Jesse looked at him vacantly.

  “That last word you said.”

  “Seppuku?”

  Louis nodded. “Gibralter said that, in the woods.”

  Jesse leaned back in the pillows with a tired sigh. “It’s Japanese.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It’s how a samarai commits suicide, you know, when they ram their sword up into their guts? They do it as punishment, when they’ve dishonored themselves.”

  The room was silent again. Louis rose and went to the window, staring out at the gray day.

  “Jess, I have to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  Louis turned to face him. “Cole’s going public. He’s telling what he saw during the raid.”

  Jesse kept his eyes locked on Louis for several seconds then lowered them.

  “You’re going to lose your job, maybe worse,” Louis said.

  Jesse was staring at his bandaged hands. Louis turned to the window again.

  “Louis?”

  He turned.

  “Would you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Call Julie for me. Ask her to come over here.”

  Louis nodded and moved toward the door.

  “Louis?”

  He turned again.

  Jesse’s eyes were bright with tears. “You did the right thing.”

  CHAPTER 44

  He had to leave the M
ustang at the bottom of the hill and walk the rest of the way up. When he reached the cabin, he paused.

  What was he afraid of? That she would look different now? What was a woman supposed to look like after her husband was shot to death? Was he afraid of what she would say? What did a woman say to the man who had killed her husband?

  He knocked. For a long time, there was no answer but then the door opened and she stood before him. Her eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight as she looked at him.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  Zoe nodded and moved away. He came in and she closed the door. The drapes were closed, the lights low. As his eyes adjusted, he made out the cardboard boxes stacked near the door. The paisley sofa was gone, and most of the other furniture. He looked to the fireplace. The Manet print had been taken down.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, turning to her.

  “I’m closing the cabin,” she said.

  “Why?”

  She rubbed the sleeves of her baggy red sweater, looking around, at anything but him. “I don’t know. I don’t feel right here anymore.”

  “Zoe...”

  “Don’t call me that, please,” she said softly.

  She moved away, going to a table to pick up some books. He watched her as she stacked them in a box. She moved slowly, as if something hurt deep in her bones. He heard a sound, a soft mewing and turned. Two animal carriers sat by the door. He could see the white cat behind the grating.

  “You’re going away?” he asked. “Where?”

  “Chicago.”

  “When?”

  Her eyes met his. “Tomorrow, after the funeral.”

  “Zoe, we have to talk.”

  Her eyes brimmed. “About what, Louis? What can we say to each other now?”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She spun away, covering her face with her hands.

  He was rooted to the floor by the sound of her crying. He wanted to hold her but he was afraid she would push him away.

  “I don’t blame you,” she said.

  He closed his eyes.

  “Brian died a long time ago,” she said. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

  Louis took a quick step toward her, touched her arm but she pulled back. She wiped her face with her sleeve and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. She looked around the room, her eyes dark with fatigue and confusion.