Louis pulled in a deep breath. There was no way to prove any of it. It was still just a theory, and he could be wrong, his imagination running wild. Ollie and Lovejoy couldn’t talk; they were dead. Gibralter would never admit to anything. And Jesse…
Louis felt his stomach turn. Ollie and Lovejoy were conspirators, each guilty in his own way. But Jesse was the catalyst, the reason it happened. He had let his rage take over and then had let Gibralter cover it up.
Clutching the folders, Louis stepped off the deck. He looked up at the window. The girl was gone.
As he stared at the cabin, a wave of sadness came over him, surprising him as it flowed in to mix with the other emotions. He was angry at them; he felt betrayed by them. They were cops and they were monsters.
But now what? What could he do about it? Go to Steele and tell what he knew? No, what he suspected? All he really had were pieces and gut instinct. He couldn’t go to Steele with that.
He went quickly back to the Mustang, got in and started the car. He needed some hard evidence. He needed to get the throw-down.
Louis scanned the shelves beyond the grating. Somewhere in the evidence room was the throw-down but there was no way he was going to get it without Dale’s key.
He turned to face the chaos of the station. Ringing phones, anxious radio voices, the muted bark of dogs outside. Cords snaking over the floors, maps hanging on the walls. Suits, lots of suits. The smell of sweat, cigarettes and burnt coffee.
It was worse outside, the lot filled with state sedans and television vans, two from Detroit and one from Chicago. That morning, Louis had to fight his way through the knot of shivering reporters and cameramen. No one bothered to stick a mike in his face; they knew every Loon Lake cop was under a gag order. And they were waiting for Steele anyway.
Louis surveyed the room. No sign of him.
“Louis,” Edna called out.
He looked over to see her holding out the phone. “It’s the
As Louis pointed to one of Steele’s aids, he saw Dale hurry in the front door. He was wearing his police parka, his face red from the cold. He spotted Louis as he pushed through the crowd to the locker room and quickly looked away. But not before Louis saw the distress in his eyes. The kid never even frowned; something was up. Louis followed him.
Dale was sitting on a bench, still in his coat, head in his hands.
“Dale?”
His head jerked up. He looked like he was going to be sick.
“What’s wrong?” Louis asked.
Dale ran a shaky hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to stop him.”
“Who?”
When Dale didn’t answer, Louis sat down next to him. “Who?” he pressed.
“Jess,” Dale said. “Jess…he…I didn’t know how to stop him.”
Louis felt his stomach knot. “What happened? Where’s Jesse?”
“I don’t know where he is,” Dale said. “We went to Red Oak. The chief sent us, told us to do whatever we had to do to make Cole talk.” Dale drew in a breath. “I knew Jess would get rough, but I didn’t think – ”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t know. It happened so fast!”
“Dale, calm down, tell me.”
“Jesse slammed him around a little, you know, knocked him out of the chair. Cole just got madder and madder and started yelling at Jess, telling him he was next, that he was going to die special.”
“What else? What else happened?”
“Jesse kept shouting at him to tell us where his old man was, and Cole starting calling him stupid and…and…”
Louis heard a door open. Voices bounced off the tile. He leaned closer.
“Jess lost it, Louis,” Dale whispered. “He took his baton and swung it at Cole’s head like it was a baseball. Caught him in the mouth, I think.” Dale wiped his sweating face with his sleeve. “I saw blood, Cole spit out blood, and he fell over. Jess hit him in the ribs and his balls.” Dale took a breath. “I couldn’t watch after that.”
“What happened then?” Louis asked.
Dale looked at him. “He stopped. He just stopped and looked at me, like, with this look on his face, like, why the hell didn’t I stop him? Jesus, what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t stop him!”
Louis pulled back. “Where is he?” he asked tightly.
Dale shook his head. “I don’t know. We got out of there quick. Cole was laying there, holding his balls. We got out of there quick.”
Dale’s voice caught and he looked as though he was going to cry. Louis went to the sink, wet some paper towels and brought them back.
Dale covered his face with the towels then looked up at Louis. “I should’ve done something,” he said.
“Jesse’s sick, Dale.”
“It’s my fault, I – ”
Louis cut him off. “It’s not your fault, damn it. It’s Gibralter’s fault.”
“The chief didn’t say to – ”
“He sent you and Jesse out there knowing exactly what would happen,” Louis said. “He knew what Jesse would do and he knew you couldn’t stop him.”
Dale was staring at him. Louis began to pace, shaking his head. “Chess,” he said. “It’s a fucking chess game to him and he used you and Jesse.”
