The walls of the cabin pulsated with the light of the dying fire. Picking up his gun and portable radio, he sat down in the chair. He pulled the afghan up around his chest and over the gun resting in his lap.
The cabin was dark and cold. He had let the fire burn out, not wanting to have any light detectable from outside.
The phone rang but he ignored it. It was the fourth time it had rung in the two hours since Jesse had left, and each time he had let it ring. This time, though, it wouldn’t stop, and finally he jumped out of the chair and grabbed it.
“Yeah?”
“Louis?” It was a woman.
“Who is this?”
“Julie Harrison, Jesse’s wife. Is Jesse there?”
“No, Julie. He was, but he left hours ago.”
“Oh, God…”
He could hear the fear in her voice and wished he had lied.
“Do you know where he went?”
“No, I don’t. Julie…Julie?”
She was crying.
“Listen, Julie – ”
She had hung up. Louis set the phone back in the cradle and returned to his chair. He pulled the afghan over his shoulders and laid the gun in his lap. He massaged his right hand; it was stiff from gripping the gun.
He glanced at his watch. Just past eleven. His whole body was stiff with tension but sleep was out of the question. He had decided on his plan – just get through the night until the morning when Steele was due back from Detroit.
A crackle of static drew his attention to the portable radio on the table at his side. “All units in the area, stand by for a BOLO.”
Louis picked up the radio, turning up the volume on Edna’s voice. “L-1 advises to be on the lookout for L-13. Subject has not been in contact with his residence and is reported missing.”
Louis listened as Edna gave a brief description of Jesse. Damn him. His wife was going crazy worrying about him and the asshole was probably passed out in a snowdrift somewhere.
He tensed. A light appeared against the curtain, the wash of headlights on the trees. He heard a car and then silence as the motor died. He shrugged off the afghan and gripped the gun.
Footsteps on the porch, heavy, a man. A knock.
“Kincaid! You in there?”
Gibralter.
Louis rose slowly, holding the gun at his side as he slid along the wall toward the kitchen.
“Kincaid! It’s the chief. I need to talk to you.”
He looked out the kitchen window and saw the Bronco. His chest tightened and he flexed his fingers around the grip of the gun. What was Gibralter doing here? He didn’t come to kill him, not in the Bronco, right here at the cabin. He was too smart for that.
Louis went to the door. “What do you want?” he called out.
“I’m looking for Jesse,” Gibralter called back.
There was something strange in Gibralter’s voice, a quiver of concern.
“Kincaid? His cruiser’s here. Is he there with you?”
“He left.”
“When?”
“Two hours ago.”
There was silence on the other side of the door and then Louis heard the retreat of footsteps from the porch. He went quickly to the kitchen window. Through the falling snow, he could see Gibralter shining a flashlight into Jesse’s cruiser. He headed back to the porch and pounded again on the door.
“Kincaid! Let me in. I need your help.”
Louis hesitated, debating what to do. He slipped the gun in his belt at the small of his back and unlocked the door.
Gibralter’s silhouette filled the door frame. “Why do you have the lights out?” he asked.
“I was asleep,” Louis said.
Gibralter took a step inside. Louis switched on a lamp, blinking in the light. Gibralter glanced around the cabin, his eyes coming back quickly to Louis. “Jesse’s missing,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Julie’s called the station twice. He didn’t make it home.”
“Maybe he stopped for a drink,” Louis said. He was careful to stand a good ten feet away.
“On foot? There are no bars between here and his place.”
Louis watched Gibralter carefully, trying to reconcile what he knew about the man with what he was seeing in his eyes, a strange look of dread.
“What was he doing here?” Gibralter asked.
“He wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“About you firing him today.”
“Was he drunk?”
“Wasted.”
“Why’d you let him leave on foot?”
“We argued. He ran out.”
Gibralter paused, his eyes steady on Louis. “I fired Jess to protect him.”
“He doesn’t see it that way.”
Gibralter let out a sigh. “I know. I didn’t handle it well.”
Louis stared at him.
“Kincaid, I need your help. I’ve got a bad feeling about this and we’ve got to find him.”
“What about Steele?”
“I tried. He’s gone until tomorrow.” Gibralter’s face hardened. “The moron he left in charge told me to go fuck myself.”
“What about your own men?”
“They’re already searching. Edna called here twice trying to get you. Didn’t you hear the phone?”
“I told you, I was asleep.”
“That’s why I came out here, thought maybe something happened to you.”
“Why’d you think that?”
“Lacey shot at you once,” Gibralter said. “He’ll do it again.”
Louis just stared at him.
“Come on, get your coat,” Gibralter said.
“I’m not going with you,” Louis said.
“Why the hell not?”
