Gibralter picked something up off the lectern and held it up to the room. It was a photograph of Thomas Pryce, spread-eagled on his staircase, his pajamas covered with his blood.
“Is this not a good enough reason, officer?”
Louis felt his face grow hot.
“What about this?” Gibralter asked, holding up another photograph. It was a close-up of Lovejoy’s face, his eyes open, his hair forming a halo of icicle spikes around his face.
“I made a mistake,” Louis said stiffly. “But I put out the APB, we can still find him -”
“He’s gone!” Gibralter yelled. “He’s fucking gone! Do you think he’s as stupid as you are?”
The room was silent. Gibralter came forward, pausing inches in front of Louis. He reached up suddenly and pulled off Louis’s tie, ripping the collar open. Louis stumbled back then steadied himself, glaring at Gibralter.
Fired. He was being fired. A flash of shame came over him, followed by a wave of relief. Gibralter reached for his shirt again and Louis tightened, expecting Gibralter to rip his badge off his pocket. Gibralter stuffed the two photographs down Louis’s shirt.
Louis went rigid, his jaw clenching in anger.
“Tell them,” Gibralter said softly. “Tell these men how sorry you are.”
Louis kept his eyes locked on Gibralter’s face.
“Tell them!” Gibralter shouted.
Louis pulled the photographs from his shirt and looked at the other men. He saw Cornwall and Evans, their faces charged with contempt. His eyes settled on Jesse, who was staring at his shoes.
“I am sorry,” Louis said.
A phone rang out in the office. Someone coughed. Louis could not stand it any longer and dropped his gaze to the floor.
“All right, listen to me,” Gibralter said, going back to the lectern. “Here is where we are going to begin.”
When Louis looked up he saw that Gibralter had gone to a map that had been put up on the bulletin board. Louis stared at the map. It was nothing but a patchwork of colors and he struggled to bring it into focus, struggled to bring himself back into focus.
He took slow, careful breaths, trying to quell his anger. He wasn’t going to let Gibralter win, not this way. He wasn’t going to let Gibralter humiliate him, blame him, and then drive him out. He would stay until Lacey was caught.
Gibralter was giving assignments for a search and Louis concentrated on the map on the wall. The county was a large square with a grand total of five towns big enough to merit dots. About a third of the county was given over to the Huron National Forest. The rest was sheer wilderness. Thousands of square miles to hide in.
Louis shook his head. Nine men…they would never find Lacey. They would need help from the state police. Why wasn’t Gibralter talking about that?
Finally, Gibralter dismissed the men. They filed past Louis, no one making eye contact. Louis waited. He knew this wasn’t over. Gibralter leaned on the lectern, his eyes locked on Louis. He drew a cigarette out of his pack of Camels and slipped it between his lips. Slowly, he lit the cigarette. It sizzled in the quiet room.
“What do you think I should do with you?” Gibralter said.
“Suspension would be in order,” Louis said.
“No.”
“Am I fired?”
“No.”
“Then what will by my exact assignment during the search?”
“You think I’m going to put you out there with the rest of the men?”
Louis decided not to answer.
“First of all, you don’t
Louis felt the knot of anger reforming in his gut.
Gibralter straightened off the lectern and went to the map, his back to Louis. “Right now, if we’re going to find this motherfucker Lacey, I need every man I have. If I didn’t need you, you’d be gone. You understand?”
I understand that we need outside help, damn it,
“But I don’t want you around here right now, Kincaid,” Gibralter said, turning to him. “I don’t want to see your face. You’re going to Dollar Bay.”
“Excuse me?”
“Lacey lives in Dollar Bay. I want you up there to find out anything you can. Take the Bronco unit number three. The keys are in the box. Pack what you have in your locker, get a few personal things from home and get the hell out of here.” Gibralter turned away. “Dismissed.”
Louis stared at Gibralter’s back. He was being exiled. Lacey wasn’t going back to the U.P. now. He was still here, hiding and waiting until he could kill the rest of the men who had been at the raid that night. Lacey was here. And Louis was not going to be allowed in on the real work of finding him.
Louis left the briefing room, closing the door. The outer office was deserted, except for Florence, who gave him a quick look of sympathy then averted her eyes.
He went quickly to his desk, threw some things into a large manila envelope and headed to the locker room. It was empty and as he approached his locker, he slowed. The locker was ajar. He never locked it; no one here did.
