Louis poured a second cup of coffee and took it over to Ollie. Ollie looked up, blinking his pale gray eyes.
“Thank you,” he said, taking it.
“No problem.”
Ollie wriggled out of his jacket and as he did, a small prescription bottle tumbled to the floor. It rolled to a stop at Louis’s feet and he picked it up. He held it out to Ollie but couldn’t miss the label on the front: VALIUM.
Ollie mumbled a thanks, averted his eyes and slipped it back into his pocket. Then he reached down and pulled a bright new Hot Wheels bike from behind a desk. When he saw Louis looking at him, he smiled wanly.
“Grand kids.”
Louis nodded. “How many?”
Ollie pulled a bow from the drugstore bag and stuck it on the bike. “Three.”
“How old?” Louis asked.
“Five, three and two. This is for the two-year-old, Joshua.”
“Nice.”
“You got kids?”
Louis shook his head. “Need a wife first.”
Ollie looked at him blankly. “I guess that would help.”
Ollie picked up the paper bag and rose, going to the mailboxes on the wall. Louis watched as he reached in the bag and deposited little gifts, wrapped like candy kisses, in each officer’s mailbox. He came back and held one out to Louis.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
Louis hesitated then took the little package. “Hey, thanks, man,” he said, surprised.
Ollie nodded and moved back to his desk.
Louis unwrapped the gold foil paper. It was a rock. A pretty polished black rock with little white flecks, but still a rock. He looked up at Ollie, who was watching him.
“It’s a snowflake obsidian,” he said. When Louis didn’t reply, Ollie gave him a small smile. “You don’t believe in the power of crystals, do you?”
Louis shook his head. “Sorry.”
“The snowflake is the stone of purity. It balances the mind, body and spirit,” Ollie said. “It brings the wearer strength and protection.” He pulled a chain out of his shirt. “I’ve been wearing one for ten years.”
Louis rubbed the rock between his fingers. He watched, in mild amusement, as Ollie went about his routine of putting his desk items away for the night. He was about to stick a geode of lavender quartz in his drawer when Louis realized he had seen the same quartz in Stephanie Pryce’s home.
“Pryce had one of those,” he said.
Ollie looked up, holding the quartz. “Yes, I gave it to him. About a year or so ago.”
Odd, Louis thought, considering Pryce didn’t have friends in the department. “Christmas present?” he asked.
Ollie shook his head. “No. I thought it might help him.”
“With what?”
“With whatever was troubling him. Amethyst brings serenity, peace of mind, forgiveness.”
“You think Pryce was troubled?”
Ollie gave him a wry smile. “We all have demons, don’t we?”
Louis resisted the urge to say what he was thinking, that if the damn serenity crystal worked so well why was Ollie chucking down Valium?
Ollie gently placed the geode in the drawer, closed and locked it. He looked at Louis. “It’s all yours,” he said.
Louis nodded.
“Oops, forgot,” Ollie said. He opened the middle drawer, retrieved Louis’s reading glasses and placed them carefully on the pencil holder where Louis had left them hours ago. “I’m sorry I moved them,” Ollie said. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
Louis walked over and picked up his glasses. “I thought Florence was the one who cleaned up my desk every night.”
“I’m something of a neat freak,” Ollie said, almost apologetically. “Hope you don’t mind me straightening your stuff. Pryce didn’t like it much.”
“Hey, knock yourself out, man.”
Louis went back to the desk where he had been working on the files. Jesse was hunched over, snoring lightly. Louis sat down and picked up another file. Moments later, he felt someone behind him and looked up to see Ollie.
“Lots of bad karma here,” Ollie said, nodding at the case files.
“But no murderers,” Louis said. “This town doesn’t seem to breed weirdos. Must be something in the water supply.”
Ollie smiled weakly.
“How long you been on the force, Ollie?” Louis asked.
“Twelve years,” Ollie replied. “Only eight years and forty-five days ‘til retirement. But who’s counting?”
“When’s the last time you had a homicide? Before Pryce and Lovejoy, I mean.”
Ollie’s wan face creased up in thought. “Ah, the Swope brothers…1973, no ’74. Got drunk and one stabbed the other.”
Louis shook his head, stacking a pile of folders. “But nobody pissed off at the local cops. Hard to believe.”
“Well, Jesse has had his run-ins. But I can’t think of anybody who would, I mean, to cause this kind of…retribution. It, this isn’t normal, it isn’t…” Ollie’s voice trailed off. He caught Louis’s eye and looked away. He went back to his desk.
Louis glanced at Jesse, envying his deep sleep. Man, he was tired. He was tired of thinking. His brain actually ached.
“Shit, this is nuts,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “We’re never going to find him this way.”
Ollie looked over. “Why not?”
“Whatever it was that pissed the guy off could have happened ten, twenty years ago.”
“But then why did he wait?” Ollie asked.
“What?”
“If it’s an old crime why would he wait so long to kill?”
Ollie had a point. Hatred usually didn’t wait to go unvented. Murder was almost always a violent and immediate reaction to something. What could have forced the killer to wait so long?
Louis sat forward, planting his feet on the floor. “Prison,” he said softly.
Ollie looked over at him blankly.
Louis stood up. “He’s been in prison. I’d bet on it. That has to be it.” He turned to Ollie. “Think about it. Some jerkweed’s sitting in jail, stewing about something the cops did to him. Every day, every week, every year, he gets madder and madder and he thinks of a plan. I mean, what else does he have to do? He plans and waits.” Louis took a few quick steps toward Ollie. “Then when he gets out…bang.”
Ollie took a step back, blinking rapidly. His slack face looked gray in the harsh fluorescent light. Louis suddenly wished he could take back his vivid image. For several seconds, they just stared at each other.
Then Ollie turned away, busying himself with packing up the Hot Wheels and putting on his coat. Clutching the bike, he hurried to the door. But he paused, turning.
“Louis,” Ollie called.
“Yeah?”
“Merry Christmas.”
Ollie left and the office was quiet again. Louis rubbed his eyes, focusing his thoughts. He needed to get a list of prison releases. He quickly scribbled a note to Dale, asking him to run a list of every state prisoner released after November 30, 1984. He taped it to Dale’s phone.
“Edna?” he called out.
No response.
“Edna!”
Her round face appeared over the book. “Edna, when Dale comes in would you tell him to leave these files out? He’ll refile them if you don’t. I’m heading home.”
Edna popped the last bit of cookie in her mouth. “Ten-four, Louis.” She nodded to the snoring Jesse. “What about Jess?”
“Let him sleep, I guess.”
Louis yawned and rose, stretching. His thoughts drifted to his cold cabin with its cold bed. He wondered what Zoe was doing tonight. He hadn’t seen her in three days; she had told him she was going home for Christmas. His mind shaped a sudden image of her sitting in a fancy high-rise on Lakeshore Drive, unwrapping a gift of lingerie from some faceless boyfriend. Christ, where had that come from?
He slipped on his jacket. The phone rang and he grabbed it before it woke Jesse up.
“Loon Lake Police, Officer Kincaid.”
“Is Jesse there?” a feminine voice asked.
“Julie?”
“Yes.” She sounded very young.
“Hold on, I’ll wake him.”
“He’s sleeping?” Julie asked. “Where?”