Dead of Winter (48 page)

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“We need help. We need to call this in, admit we blew it and get some help.” He keyed the mike again. “Central, this is L-11, do you —- ”

A sharp bang, an explosion of sparks. Louis jumped back, holding his hand. Smoke poured out of the dashboard, clearing to reveal the shattered radio. Louis looked up to see Gibralter holding his gun.

“Let’s go,” Gibralter said. He stuck the gun in his holster, slammed the Bronco door and started away.

Louis pulled out his gun and flipped open the cylinder. It was empty. Gibralter had removed the bullets while he had been distracted struggling with Cole.

Louis began to tremble, the wind creeping up under the parka and seeping through his wet jeans. He glanced around, at the black pines and rolling drifts. About ten yards ahead, he could see the beam of Gibralter’s flashlight.

Jesus, what was he going to do? He didn’t know where in the hell he was. He couldn’t stay here and freeze to death. And he couldn’t let Gibralter go on after Cole alone. If Cole did lead him to Lacey, Gibralter would kill them both.

Louis pulled on his gloves and picked up his flashlight. It was nearly two-feet long and heavy in his hand. He weighed its potential as a possible weapon, knowing Gibralter would not let him get close enough to use it. He stuck his empty gun back in his belt.

“Kincaid!” Gibralter’s voice echoed back to him through the trees.

Louis closed the passenger door and reached back to shut the back door. His eye picked up a spot of color on the floorboard and he froze.

It was an orange rabbit’s foot, its chain broken.

Louis picked it up, his heart beating faster. He had seen it back at his cabin just hours ago. Jesse had dropped it and he had stuffed it back in his parka. What was it doing here?

Louis’s eyes went to the metal grate that separated the front from the backseat. A cold knot formed in his gut. Jesse had dropped the rabbit’s foot in the Bronco. But he would never get in the backseat behind the cage. Not unless he was forced to.

Gibralter had Jesse. But why? And where was he now? Was he alive?

“Kincaid!” Gibralter’s flashlight ahead cut a faint path in the blackness. Louis put the rabbit’s foot in his pocket and started toward the light.

Darkness and cold. They were closing in on him, tightening their grip on his mind, on his body. He trudged on through the drifts, his eyes never leaving the beam from his flashlight. It was all he had, that light. It was his only defense against the fear that was growing inside him. The light...and his brain. They were the only weapons left to him now.

“Stop.”

Louis did not turn at the sound of Gibralter’s voice behind him. He heard the faint
ping
of the tracking device.

“Left, ten o’clock,” Gibralter said.

They moved on slowly, as they had been doing for the last hour. Or was it longer? Louis was losing sense of time, just as he was losing sense of place and himself. He was shivering, unable to stop it, and his fingers gripping the flashlight were numb. His toes were numb. His mind was growing numb.

Is this how it ends, this numbness? Is this how I die?

He bit down hard on his lower lip, almost drawing blood. Anything to stay alert. He stuck his free hand in his parka pocket. It found the rabbit’s foot. He gripped it, his mind finding a focus again...Jesse.

He stopped suddenly and turned around. It was going to end soon. However it did, whatever was going to happen to him, he needed to know the truth.

“Where’s Jesse?” he asked.

All he could see was the light Gibralter was shining in his face. “What did you do with him?” Louis asked.

When Gibralter said nothing Louis held up the rabbit’s foot. He couldn’t see Gibralter’s face.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to worry about Jesse anymore,” Gibralter said.

“You killed him,” Louis said.

Gibralter said nothing.

“You killed him. Why?”

“He made the wrong choice.”

“Choice? What choice?”

Louis heard the click of a gun hammer.

“Move,” Gibralter said.

He trudged on, trying to think. What choice had Jesse made? Had he finally turned against Gibralter? Had Jesse been going to turn himself in when he left the cabin?

Louis stopped again and turned. “You killed Pryce, too, didn’t you?”

“You’re wasting time, Kincaid.”

“Jesse’s dead. They’re all dead! It doesn’t matter anymore, that’s what you said!”

It was quiet except for the ping of the tracking device in Gibralter’s hand.

“Did you? Did you kill Pryce?” Louis demanded.

“I made a permanent sacrifice,” Gibralter said.

There. He had his truth. Louis shut his eyes, turning his face upward. The snow was cold and wet on his face. It was a moment before he could bring himself to speak again.

“You coward,” he whispered. “You were afraid and you killed him. You fucking coward.”

“Pryce was the coward,” Gibralter said. “He didn’t have the guts to do what had to be done. He didn’t understand that our strength comes from our unity.”

“Gens una sumus,”
Louis said, shaking his head.

Gibralter’s chuckle drifted to him. “You’re learning, Kincaid.” He tipped the gun barrel, motioning him to move on.

Louis didn’t’ move. There were still too many questions. “How did you find out he was on to you?”

Gibralter didn’t answer.

“How?” Louis shouted.

“I was lucky. I got a call I never should have got.”

“From who? Who told you what Pryce was doing?”

“Steele’s secretary,” Gibralter said. “She called the station and Dale transferred the call to me. She said she was calling to say she had to change the time of Pryce’s appointment for December third.”

Louis stared, stunned.

“I told her I’d pass the message along.”

“You killed Pryce on the basis of that?”

Gibralter shook his head. “I suspected he was turning before then.”

Louis waited. Gibralter seemed to be trying to decide how much to explain.

“He was looking for a job. I got calls for references,” Gibralter said. “I didn’t think much of it at first. Pryce never seemed to really fit in here.”

“It had to be more than that. What else tipped you off?”

“Dale.”

Louis shook his head.

“It’s not what you think,” Gibralter said. “Dale didn’t know what Pryce was up to. He was just pissed that Pryce was messing up his files. Dale came to me, it was around Halloween, asking if he could put locks on the file cabinets to keep everybody out. He was mad at Pryce, said he never put things back. He showed me a file Pryce had left a mess.”

“The raid file,” Louis said. “Pryce made a copy.”

Gibralter nodded. “I started watching him after that. I followed him one day when he went back to the Eden place. I checked evidence and knew he’d been in there. I saw that the seal on the Hammersmith bag was broken.”

“You knew he found the throw-down,” Louis said.

“Yes, but he didn’t take the gun. He wasn’t as smart as you.”

Louis was shivering hard and clenched his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

“Walk,” Gibralter demanded.

“What about Ollie and Lovejoy?” he said.

“What about them?”

“Did you kill them, too?”

Gibralter stared at him, his breath visible in the beam of the flashlight. “Do you believe in fate, Kincaid?”

Louis didn’t answer.

“’There is no armor against fate. Death lays its icy hand on kings.’”

Louis recognized it as part of the quote Gibralter had delivered at Ollie’s funeral. It hadn’t meant anything to him then. But now, here, the words sounded cowardly, like an excuse.

“Fate?” Louis said. “It was their fate to die?”

“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” Gibralter said. “Things were set in motion that day at the Eden cabin, things that no one could stop. Is that fate? I don’t know. All I know is things must come to their inevitable conclusions.”

Louis turned and walked on, the cold inside him growing as his thoughts turned to his own fate. Gibralter planned to kill him tonight. He knew too much, just like the others. He felt the cold steel of his empty gun against his skin.

Thing, think! Find a way to beat him. Find a weapon.

He stopped again.

“Kincaid, you’re getting on my nerves,” Gibralter said.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you,” Louis said.

“Get moving.”

“What are you waiting for?” Louis yelled. “Why don’t you just shoot me right now!”

“What, and make you a fucking martyr in her eyes?”

Louis swung his flashlight to Gibralter’s face. Gibralter moved but not before Louis saw the tightness in his expression.

“Who? Zoe? Is that —- ” Louis demanded.

“Her name is Jeannie!” Gibralter interrupted, pointing the gun at Louis’s chest.

Louis held his breath. Gibralter slowly lowered the gun.

“You’re going to take a bullet in the back tonight, Kincaid, but it won’t be mine,” Gibralter said. “Now move!”

Louis walked on through the drifts, his mind churning as he realized what was going to happen. Gibralter knew he would have to face an investigation when this was over. Any bullet found in Louis’s back would come from Lacey’s gun. Gibralter would make sure of that. He had thought of everything. Every maneuver was designed, every move thought out three steps ahead. How could he get the advantage?

Zoe.

He had seen something in Gibralter’s eyes when he had said her name. It was small, almost undetectable, but it was there. A weakness, a fissure, a way in.

“Zoe,” he said.

From behind came only the crunch of boots on snow.

“Zoe,” he repeated, more loudly.

Silence.

Louis gave a small laugh as he walked on. “She likes to be called Zoe. You didn’t know that, did you?”

“Shut up.”

Louis’s heart was hammering but he knew he had to get Gibralter off balance. “Zoe,” he said loudly. “That’s what she wants me to call her when we make love.”

Silence. Louis drew in a harsh breath of cold air.

“You know what Zoe told me? Zoe told me you haven’t been able to satisfy her in years.”

“Stop!”

Louis stopped.

“Turn around.”

He faced the light, squinting.

“You want to play games?” Gibralter asked.

Louis could not see if the gun was pointed at him.
Ping-ping-ping.
The faint sound of the tracker matched the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

“You know what an end game is, Kincaid?”

Louis remained silent, his hand going up to shield his eyes against the light.

“The end game is the final strategy in chess,” Gibralter said. “It’s when most of the pieces are lost and the king is forced into action. Amateurs thing the king can be taken at this point. But in the hands of a master, the end game can have any number of outcomes.”

Gibralter moved his flashlight away from Louis’s face. Louis could see him smiling, shaking his head.

“Zoe, Jeannie, it doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “Weak move, Kincaid. A weak move from a weak man.”

He motioned with the gun toward the trees. Louis turned and trudged on. He was shivering violently now, the cold overtaking him. There had been no response about Zoe. A normal man would have retaliated. But there had been nothing.

Think! Think!

Gibralter was a man and every man had a weakness. Where was Gibralter’s? But this wasn’t a normal man. This wasn’t even a man. This was nothing but a gun, a badge and a fucking uniform.

A cop. Not a man, just a cop.

A cop...Attack the cop, not the man.

Louis forced himself to let out another laugh. It echoed in the darkness. “A weak man! I’m a weak man!” he yelled. “That’s the ultimate insult to you, right,
Chief?”

He charged the final word with sarcasm, knowing Gibralter would pick up on it. He forced out a chuckle. “Nothing worse than a weak cop, right, Chief?”

Gibralter said nothing.

“What makes a weak cop? Why don’t you define it for me, Chief?” Louis said. “Why don’t you tell me so I can get my badge to shine as pretty as yours?”

Louis kept his eyes on the dim path created by the flashlight in his shaking hand.

“A weak cop doesn’t break the rules, right, Chief?” Louis yelled back over his shoulder.

The crunch of boots on snow.