Dead of Winter lk-2

by P J Parrish

  “Stay there,” he said. “You’re not touching this kid.”

  Gibralter stared at him. Louis braced the shotgun against his side, his finger on the trigger. With his left hand, he pulled the flashlight out of his belt and shined it up on the porch.

  The beam fell across logs. Louis swung it back to Gibralter. He hadn’t moved.

  Slowly, Louis sidestepped up to the hut, his eyes darting between Gibralter and the porch. He reached the step.

  “Cole, I’m coming up.”

  A whimper from behind the logs.

  Gibralter took a step forward. Louis swung the flashlight to shine in his face.

  “You lift that gun, you’re dead,” Louis said.

  “There is no dishonor in death, Kincaid,” Gibralter said softly. “Seppuku…”

  Louis shined the light back to the porch and it picked up a spot of blue, Cole’s denim shirt. He was crouched behind the woodpile.

  “Cole?”

  Easy, easy…

  Louis heard a sound and swung his light back to Gibralter. His gun was moving.

  Louis spun to the porch and his flashlight caught Cole’s face only for an instant, just long enough to give Gibralter a target. Louis swung the beam away.

  He saw the flash of Gibralter’s gun go off. His own hand jerked back on the trigger of the shotgun and it bucked violently against his ribs.

  An explosion of noise, followed by echoes that seemed to pound in his head. Then it was quiet.

  Gibralter was lying on the ground, his body dark against the snow. His palm was up, the revolver inches away in the snow.

  Louis stared at him, his chest heaving.

  Cole moaned.

  Louis swung the flashlight beam around, picking up Cole lying on the porch.

  No, check Gibralter first. Eliminate the threat.

  He fell to his knees next to Gibralter and pressed a finger to his throat. Nothing. He tried the wrist. Nothing. There was a large black hole in the blue nylon of the parka.

  Gibralter was dead.

  CHAPTER 41

  Louis gathered both revolvers and the radio from Gibralter’s body and hurried up to the porch. He knelt next to Cole, propping the kid’s head on his knee.

  “Where are you hit?”

  “In the belly…God, it hurts. Fuck…”

  Louis caught Cole under the arms and dragged him inside the hut. He spotted a cot in the corner and carefully lifted him up on it as Cole screamed in pain. In the spare light of the room’s single kerosene lantern, Louis looked down into Cole’s pale, sweaty face.

  He pulled up Cole’s shirt. Blood was pouring out of the small black hole below Cole’s rib cage.

  “What are you doing?” Cole asked, his eyes frantic.

  “Put this on it. Keep pressure on it,” Louis said, grabbing the army blanket from the foot of the cot and handing it to Cole.

  “I’m going to die,” Cole said.

  “No, you’re not.’

  “I’m going to die. I’m going to die.” Cole was crying.

  “Cole, stop. Listen to me. We’ve got to get some help. Tell me where we are.”

  “I’m bleeding! I’m going to die!”

  “Cole! You’re not going to die! Now help me. Tell me where we are, damn it!”

  Cole wiped his face and pointed across the room. Louis saw a scarred footlocker.

  “Maps,” Cole said.

  Louis went to the locker and jerked it open. He rummaged through the dirty clothes and debris, finally pulling out two maps. The first was nothing but a series of undulating circles, a topography map that he couldn’t read. He tossed it aside. The second one he unfolded was a county map that detailed every highway, road and landmark, even the old logging roads. He brought it back to Cole.

  “Where are we?” he demanded, holding it up to Cole’s face.

  Cole’s eyes were closed. Louis shook his shoulder. “Cole! Show me where we are!”

  Cole’s eyes fluttered open and he struggled to focus. With a shaky finger he pointed to the map, leaving a bloody smudge. He fell back with a grimace.

  Louis grabbed the radio and called Loon Lake. A voice came back to him, Edna’s voice, the sweet sound of Edna’s nasally voice.

  “L-11? Where are you?”

  “Edna, listen carefully. I need a flight-for-life chopper. And contact Chief Steele — ”

  “Chief Steele? But he isn’t — ”

  “Find him! Tell him..” Louis hesitated. Christ, he hated to say all this over the radio. “Tell him I have one injured suspect and a 10–99, officer down. Tell Steele I need him now. Repeat, I need him — ”

  “Louis, Chief Steele isn’t going to — ”

  “Tell him I have Lacey. Tell him he’s dead.”

  Louis read off the longitude and latitude of the hut’s location along with the nearest roads. He signed off, knowing it would still be hard for anyone to find them. There was nothing to do now but wait.

  Louis touched Cole’s face. It was cold and his breathing was shallow. Louis glanced around the hut for another blanket, finally spotting the blue police parka crumbled in a corner. He got it and spread it over Cole’s chest.

  “Cole,” he said. He had to keep him conscious somehow.

  Cole didn’t open his eyes but Louis could see the slight rise and fall of his chest beneath the parka.

  “I’m sorry you had to see your father die like that.”

  Cole opened his eyes. “He knew you’d get him,” he whispered. “He knew he was going to die and he didn’t care. He just wanted to finish it.”

  Louis shook his head. “I don’t think your father killed anyone. I think that’s just what you want to believe.”

  “He did!” Cole said with a grimace. “He killed those cops. I know he did.”

  Louis pressed Cole’s shoulder gently back into the cot. “Cole…”

  “He showed me, he showed me the cards.”

  Louis tensed. “What cards?”

  Cole brought a hand out from under the parka and pointed again to the footlocker.

  Louis went to the locker and dug down through the debris again. A pack of Bee cards was on the bottom. He slid the pack open. There were only three cards, bound with a rubber band. Louis pulled it off and fanned the cards. All had the drawing of the skull and crossbones on the back. Louis turned the cards over.

  There was an ace of hearts, a king of diamonds and a two of clubs.

  The ace symbolized one, Gibralter’s call number. The king was number thirteen, for Jesse. But the last card…a two? Pryce’s call number had been Loon-2. But Pryce had been thrown an ace of spades. This card had never been delivered.

  He stared at the cards in his hand and suddenly he understood. Two killers…There had been two.

  All along, he had wanted to tie all three murders to one killer and he had gone back and forth between Lacey and Gibralter. But now he saw clearly that there had been two.

  First there was Lacey. Driven by his demons and need for revenge, he had killed Lovejoy. Gibralter had discovered Lovejoy’s body in the shanty and realized it was Lacey’s work. Gibralter had then killed Pryce to silence him, duplicating Lacey’s methods and motive as his cover.

  That was why Lacey had retreated to Dollar Bay, telling Millie that “everything was fucked up.” That’s also why he waited so long to continue his rampage before finally killing Ollie.

  Louis let out a tired breath. Gibralter had cold-bloodedly thought out every detail. From finding out Lacey’s boot size to putting his friend’s body in the ice hole so Pryce would be mistaken as Lacey’s first victim, not a copycat killing.

  Gibralter had thought of everything, even down to duplicating Lacey’s signature of the death card. But Gibralter had missed one small thing. He didn’t realize Lacey was using the cops’ call numbers. He had thrown the ace of spades down on Pryce, assuming it would look like a racial insult.

  “Hey…”

  Louis turned. Cole’s face was white and tear-streaked in the lantern
’s glow. Louis went to him, lifted the parka and saw that the blanket under Cole’s hand was soaked with blood.

  “Don’t let me die,” Cole whispered.

  “I won’t.”

  Cole closed his eyes.

  A heaviness came over Louis. He had no right to make any more promises to Cole Lacey.

  CHAPTER 42

  Louis could hear the whirring of the chopper as it sat waiting in the clearing beyond the trees. He watched as Cole was brought out on a stretcher. A minute later, the chopper rose above the trees and moved off into the darkness. It was only then Louis turned back to face Steele and the question he had asked.

  “Answer me,” Steele demanded. “You expect me to believe this shit?”

  “Cole will back it up,” Louis said.

  “That stupid kid?” Steele said. “Hardly a credible witness.”

  Louis’s eyes swept over the chaos of men surrounding the hut. Fatigue had numbed him to the cold but the ache inside lingered. He hurt, every part of him hurt.

  “I told you the truth,” Louis said.

  “Your chief is dead,” Steele said. “The goddamn suspect is dead and the kid will probably die. You expect me to believe Chief Gibralter orchestrated this insane operation and then shot down the suspects in cold blood?”

  Louis stared at him. “It’s the truth. All of it.”

  “You better hope Cole Lacey lives long enough to back up your story, Kincaid. If he doesn’t you can add murder to the long list of criminal charges I’m going to hit you with.”

  Steele turned, took several steps then came back. “I’ve seen a lot of stupidity in my time but this takes it all,” he said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Jesse. I was thinking about Jesse.”

  “Who?”

  “Jesse Harrison,” Louis snapped. “My partner.”

  “Who is also dead.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  Steele stared at him, shaking his head. “You know something, Kincaid, Gibralter is not the only lunatic in this fucked-up department. Lacey abducted your partner and left him dead somewhere. Not Gibralter, not your chief.”

  Louis held up the rabbit’s foot. “This belongs to Jesse. He had it with him earlier tonight at my cabin. I found it in Gibralter’s Bronco.”

  Steele stared at him. “So where is he then?”

  “I don’t know but I’m going to look for him.”

  Steele shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. You’re on suspension.”

  “You don’t have the authority,” Louis said. “I’m going to look for Jesse.”

  “I could arrest you and detain you for hours.”

  Louis closed his fist around the rabbit’s foot. “Look, I know Gibralter. I know how he thinks. Now let me go so I can join the search.”

  Steele’s eyes hardened as the wind blew snow across his face. Louis shook his head in disgust and turned to walk away.

  Steele’s voice sounded behind him. “Lockhart!” he called, waving to a trooper just exiting his car.

  Louis turned. Steele met his eye briefly then looked at the trooper. “Take Kincaid back to town.”

  Lockhart nodded and opened the back door to his cruiser. Louis slid in the back. He pulled his parka up around him. The stiff nylon was raw against his face.

  “Turn up the heat, will you, guys?”

  Lockhart’s partner nodded and after a few minutes the back began to warm up. Louis stared at the backs of their heads through the mesh screen as the cruiser bounced down the snowy hill. After a while, it hit a logging road and Lockhart sped up as he threaded through the trees toward the highway.

  Where would Gibralter have taken Jesse? To his own home? To Zoe’s cabin? Neither of those choices made sense. He wasn’t sure Jesse was even alive. If Jesse had decided to turn against Gibralter he might be dead out in the woods somewhere.

  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.”