Louis grabbed a tree to pull himself up from the snow. Gibralter walked a few feet away, turning his back. He was looking off into the darkness.
Louis looked around. Cole was gone. Then, incredibly, he heard laughter. Gibralter was laughing.
Louis trudged through the snow and grabbed Gibralter’s sleeve. “He’s gone! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Gibralter pulled his arm away. He reached into his parka pocket and pulled out matches and a cigarette. Cupping his hands around the match, he lit it. Louis watched his face in the match’s glow.
“You’re crazy,” Louis said. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“There is no genius without some touch of madness,” Gibralter said softly, tossing the match to the snow.
Gibralter headed back to the Bronco. Louis followed, furious. But before he could say anything, Gibralter produced a black box about the size of the cigarette pack. It was flashing a red light and giving out a faint
“You wanted him to run,” Louis said.
“Of course. Stupid little prick.”
“But what if he hadn’t? What if I hadn’t stopped you?”
“I knew you would.”
For a moment, Louis was paralyzed with anger and a feeling of impotency. “You son of a bitch,” he said.
“No time for insults, Kincaid,” Gibralter said, placing two speed-loaders in the holder on his belt. “We’ve got a job to do.”
“Forget it. This is nuts. I’m not going along.”
“Why not? It was your idea, remember?”
Gibralter laughed and tossed a flashlight at Louis. Louis caught it against his chest, “Get ready,” Gibralter said, his smile fading.
Louis moved to the open passenger door and for a moment just stood there, watching as Gibralter pulled on his gloves. The man was crazy, stone-cold crazy. His eyes drifted to Cole’s prints. They were fading fast in the falling snow, but with the bug he was easily tracked and there was no need to hunt him by themselves.
Louis reached in the Bronco and keyed the radio. The static pierced the quiet and Gibralter’s face appeared over the roof.
“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
“Left, ten o’clock,” Gibralter said.
