Louis lunged, grabbing Cole’s shirt. He jerked him from the chair, shoved him backward and slammed him against the wall. Cole threw up his hands, a mixture of fear and anger glazing his eyes. “You fucking pig!” he squealed. “Get your hands off me!”
Louis’s hand tightened around Cole’s throat. “Talk to me!”
Cole glared, his nostrils flaring. “Fuck you!”
Louis drew back a fist. His eyes flicked back to Jesse, who had moved forward, his face tight with shock. Louis looked back at Cole then at his hand, inches from Cole’s face.
A tear had squeezed out of Cole’s eye. “Go ahead,” he whimpered. “I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.”
Louis’s hand began to tremble. For a moment, no one moved. Then with a violent shove Louis sent Cole reeling back into the chair. It folded with a loud clang, sending Cole sprawling to the floor. Cole’s legs pedaled against the linoleum until he had pushed himself back against the wall. He had bitten his lip and a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He ignored it, wiping angrily at the tear on his cheek.
Louis stared at the boy. Then slowly his eyes dropped to his hand, still curled into a fist. His heart was pounding and he suddenly felt very hot. He walked woodenly to the wall. He leaned heavily against it, wiping a hand over his brow.
Louis glanced at Jesse as if suddenly aware he was in the room. Jesse was rooted by the door, his face clouded with confusion and something else, something that Louis recognized, with a sick feeling, as approval.
Louis moved to the door and banged on it. Haynes appeared, his eyes moving from Louis to Cole and back. “He give you trouble, officer?” he asked, his hand moving to his baton.
Cole stood up slowly, his eyes flashing new confidence in the presence of Haynes. “Always my fucking fault, isn’t it, Haynes?” he said.
“Watch your mouth, Lacey.”
Haynes reached out and grabbed Cole by the neck of his shirt. “Let’s go,” he said, shoving him toward the door.
At the door, Cole twisted to look back at Louis.
“You are dead, man,” Cole said softly. His hard eyes took in Jesse. “You’re both dead motherfuckers.”
They stepped out into the cold sleet, pausing to zip their jackets.
“Give me the keys,” Jesse said.
“No,” Louis said.
“Give me the fucking keys.”
Louis dug them out and almost threw them at Jesse. He walked briskly to the cruiser, jerked open the passenger door and got in. Jesse got in but made no move to start the car. Louis stared out at the windshield. Finally he looked over at Jesse.
“You going to start this thing?”
“Not until you tell me what that was all about.”
“Just start the damn car.”
Jesse rubbed the orange rabbit’s foot. “Look, Louis, I need to know. What the hell happened back there?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me ‘nothing.’ The man I saw in there is not the same man I know.”
“What do you mean?”
Jesse shrugged. “It’s just not you. I mean, it’s not bad but it’s just not you.”
“Start the car, Jess.”
Jesse sighed. “Gonna be a long ride home.”
They pulled out of the lot and headed back to the interstate. Louis dropped his head back against the seat. He was glad Jesse had let it go. If he hadn’t he would have probably been forced to admit that he didn’t know what had happened in that room with Cole Lacey.
He closed his eyes. Jesse was right. That wasn’t him back there. Or was it? He had felt something back there, something foreign and dark, something that had crawled up from deep inside him. Standing there over that stupid kid, giving him shit, making him shake, it had felt…
“What we going to tell the chief about this?” Jesse asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“Tell him whatever you want,” Louis said.
He closed his eyes again, letting the hum of the tires take him back down into his thoughts. He could, he knew, rationalize his behavior. Cole knew where Lacey was and they had every right to get that information out of him. He could have made it really hard on the kid. But coerced testimony was illegal and wouldn’t hold up in court. And it was wrong.
Jesse suggested they stop at the White Castle to pick up lunch but Louis said he wanted to go right back to the station. He wanted to get the report done on Cole. Jesse dropped him off and Louis went right to his desk, pulling a blank report from his drawer.
He paused, pen over paper. What the hell did he write? Subject uncooperative and belligerent? Interrogation failed due to officer’s lack of control?
“You get anything out of Cole?” Dale asked.
“No. The kid’s cold as the damn lake,” Louis answered without looking up.
After thirty minutes, he sat back and read what he had written. His usually straight handwriting had an unmistakable angry slant to it. He was always careful not to let his emotions color a report but this thing with Cole had pushed him into a different state of mind.
Louis crumpled the report and tossed it in the trash. No way would Gibralter accept this. He liked his reports ice cold, just like his own damn blood.
