Louis looked at Gibralter standing at his office door. Gibralter’s eyes focused briefly on Steele then back on Louis. He waved him to the office. Louis hesitated as Zoe flashed into his head, followed by a disturbing image of her with Gibralter. Was that always going to be there now, every time he looked at the man?
Louis went in, closing the door behind him. Gibralter was sitting at his desk. His uniform shirt was crisp but there were circles under his eyes and a shadow of whiskers on his jaw. The office had a slightly fetid smell, an odor of cigarettes and body musk. Louis spotted a Styrofoam takeout container in the trash and a bottle of Aramis on the credenza.
“You have something from the doc?” Gibralter said.
Louis held Gibralter’s eyes for a moment looking for a clue in them about Zoe. Gibralter had trusted Jesse with his secret and had no reason to suspect that Louis now knew. There was nothing new in Gibralter’s eyes, Louis finally decided.
Louis pulled the papers from his shirt pocket and handed them to Gibralter.
“It says you need to continue to see him,” Gibralter said. “You have other problems I need to know about, Kincaid?”
“The future visits are routine. I can come back to work.”
Gibralter nodded stiffly. He fished in a drawer and pulled out a paper. “Now I have something for you,” he said, holding it out.
Louis came forward and took it. The Loon Lake city seal jumped out at him. It was a letter of reprimand.
“I don’t deserve this,” Louis said.
Gibralter swung the chair around to the credenza and switched on a tape recorder. The tape crackled with static and then Louis’s voice filled the office.
“Turn it off,” Louis said sharply.
Gibralter turned it off and the room went silent. He held out a pen. “Sign it.”
Louis didn’t move.
“Sign it or I’ll add insubordination.”
Louis stared at the letter in his hand.
Gibralter started to reach for the paper.
Ollie’s face came back to Louis in that moment. Ollie’s face splattered with blood and his pleading eyes. He grabbed the pen from Gibralter, scribbled his name and thrust the paper back at Gibralter, throwing the pen on the desk.
“Can I go now?” he asked.
“No. I think you need a few days in the office.”
“I have a release for full duty.”
“I don’t care what you have. I decide when a man is fit for duty.” Gibralter reached down below his desk for an empty box. He tossed it across the desk and Louis caught it against his thighs.
“Take down the Christmas decorations.”
Louis could see the network of tiny red veins around the cold blue irises. The man was cracking, just like the rest of them.
Suddenly, something snapped inside Louis. The room shifted, everything shifted. The impotent rage burning inside him was mutating into a cold anger. He realized in that instant he had made a decision. He wouldn’t quit and leave Jesse, Dale, or any other cop, at Lacey’s hands.
But what could he do? Gibralter wasn’t going to let him work the case. And now Steele was in control of the search, the arrest, of everything.
Then he knew. He would help Steele. He would do whatever he could to help Steele catch Lacey. He didn’t want to be caught in a damn ego war but Lacey had to be stopped. If it meant taking sides against Gibralter, he would do it. He would do what he could and then get the hell out.
“Am I dismissed?” Louis asked tightly.
“Get out of here.”
Louis left the office and went to his desk, tossing the box in a corner and sinking into the chair. Taking a stand against Gibralter was a dangerous move. He had to play it carefully. Very carefully.
He glanced at the phone. He grabbed the phone book and dialed the
“Delp here.”
“Delp, this is Kincaid. Can I buy you lunch?”
“Sure. Dot’s?”
“No.” Louis paused. “Jo-Jo’s”
“That shithole out on 29?”
“Yeah. Ten minutes, okay?”
He spotted Delp in the gloom of Jo-Jo’s, sitting at the end of the bar. There was no one else in the place except for a drunk slumped over the table in a corner booth. The bartender eyed Louis’s uniform as Louis slid onto a stool next to Delp.
“Nice place,” Delp said, stirring his coffee.
Louis ignored him, motioning to the bartender to bring another cup.
“Where you been?” Delp asked. “I called the station.”
“Therapy.”
“Oh, yeah. How’s it going?”
