Dead of Winter

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.