Dead of Winter

CHAPTER 25

One drink before he went in. The bottle was cold in his hand but the Jack Daniel’s was hot on his tongue. Jesse twisted the cap back on, set the bottle on the seat of the Bronco and stared at the front door to the chief’s house.

A light went on in the living room. Jesse drew in a deep breath and popped open the car door, knowing that his courage was fading faster than the dying daylight. He had to do it. He had to talk to the man, find out what was going on. Why had the chief split him and Louis up?

His shoes scrunched on the hardened snow as he moved up the walk. He rang the bell and heard the chimes echo through the house. The door opened, silhouetting the chief’s wife, Jean, in a golden light. She frowned slightly then seemed to recognize him and switched on the porch light.

“Jess. What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to the chief. He here?”

“Of course. Come in.”

She stood aside, holding the storm door. Jesse stepped inside, stomping his boots on the throw rug near the door. He glanced at the white carpet and stomped again.

“You haven’t been over in a long time, Jess,” Jean said, taking his coat and hanging it on the hall coat tree.

“I know. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Of course not,” she said with a smile.

She walked away and Jesse let out a small breath of relief. The woman had always made him nervous but he didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because he had never gotten the chance to get to know her. But how could he? As close as he was to the chief, they never socialized and the chief never talked about his personal life.

Jesse waited in the foyer while Jean Gibralter went to the den to get her husband. He tried to remember the last time he had seen her at any police function. She never went to anything. But then, neither did Julie anymore; she said she hated standing around while the men talked shop.

A door opened and Gibralter emerged. He came over to Jesse.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. I…” Jesse looked at Jean, who had curled into a chair near the fireplace with a book on her lap. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“It’s kind of personal,” Jesse said quietly.

Gibralter motioned for Jesse to follow him into the den. Gibralter closed the door then went to the bar to turn down the scanner.

“Beer?” he asked, opening a small refrigerator.

Jesse didn’t want one but he accepted the can of Budweiser Gibralter pressed into his hand. Gibralter moved to a stool at the bar where he had spread out his reloading gear.

“What’s the problem?” Gibralter asked, hoisting a hip onto a bar stool.

“I want to know why you split Louis and me up,” Jesse said.

“I don’t need to explain my actions to you, Jess.” Gibralter picked up a shell casing and carefully poured powder into it.

“I know. But Louis is my partner.”

“We don’t have partners in this department, you know that.”

Jesse came forward and set the beer on the bar. “I know that, too. But you doubled us up — ”

“That was temporary.”

“Well, maybe it shouldn’t be.”

Gibralter leveled his eyes at Jesse.

“I mean, I like riding with someone,” Jesse said. “I’ve learned shit from Louis. He’s — ”

“Your friend?” Gibralter said.

Jesse hesitated. “Well, yeah, I guess he is.”

Gibralter turned back to his shell loading.

Jesse stared at Gibralter’s broad back then moved around near the bar so he could see Gibralter’s profile. “Is something wrong with that?”

Gibralter didn’t look up. “In this job, there must be a blind faith and unbreakable trust, or we can’t function.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Kincaid is a lone wolf. He is a cop without loyalty, without purpose.”

Jesse shook his head slowly. “I think you’re wrong, Chief. Louis has purpose. His purpose is…well, it’s the law.”

Gibralter picked up another gold shell casing. “Trust me, Jess.”

Jesse fell silent, frustrated. Finally, after a moment, he added, “Chief, I need to say something here.”

“Don’t.”

“Damn it, I’m going to.” He hesitated then spoke quickly. “It isn’t all Louis’s fault that Lacey was cut loose. If I had told him about the raid then maybe he would’ve made a better call.”

“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.