“Shut the door.”
Louis closed the door and turned to face Gibralter.
“Now what was so damn important?” Gibralter demanded.
“We picked up a suspect yesterday,” Louis began.
“Duane Lacey,” Gibralter said.
Louis nodded. “He looked good but his sheet said he was in prison until December 10. So I cut him loose.”
“And?” Gibralter said.
“The release date was wrong. It was a typo,” Louis said. “I called the DOC this morning. Lacey was released November 10.”
Gibralter didn’t move, not a muscle, not an eyebrow, nothing. From outside came the sounds of the other day-shift men waiting for briefing. Louis realized he was holding his breath and let it out. The red carpet beneath his feet seemed to be moving, undulating.
Gibralter turned away, going to the window.
“Why didn’t you tell me about his dead kids?” Louis asked.
“Lacey wasn’t a suspect. He was in prison.”
“You should have checked,” Louis said.
Gibralter turned to face him. “We did, Kincaid. I assigned it to Jesse.”
Louis’s gaze dropped to the carpet again. Jesse had relied on the written record instead of calling, just like he had.
“Jesse fucked up,” Gibralter said. “But that doesn’t make what you did any less stupid. You had a description of the truck and you had Lacey in custody. You should have held him.”
“On what?” Louis shot back.
“Anything,” Gibralter said, raising his voice. “You had him, Kincaid, and you shouldn’t have let him go.”
Louis bit back the angry words forming in his head. Lacey was on the loose to kill again. He himself was willing to take some of the blame but he wasn’t going to let Gibralter crucify him alone.
“Am I dismissed, sir?” he asked, the last word taking on an edge.
“Yes. But before you show your face at briefing I want an APB put out.”
Louis nodded, turned and left. The outer office was deserted, the other men waiting in the briefing room. Louis went quickly to the dispatch desk.
“Flo, put this out, ASAP, please,” Louis said.
She took the paper and read it, her eyes widening. Louis could hear her soft voice going out over the airwaves as he headed to the briefing room.
He paused outside the door to take a calming breath then went in. Gibralter was standing in his usual place behind the lectern. Five officers sat in folding chairs, including Dale. There were no other chairs, so Louis stood at the back of the room. Gibralter was staring at him. Suddenly, he knew what was going to happen. He was going to get lectured, right in front of everyone.
“Stay where you are, and introduce yourself, officer.”
Louis forced himself to look at Gibralter. He focused on a small white mark on his jaw, the white smudge of a styptic pencil.
“Let me help you,” Gibralter said, moving around in front of the lectern. “My name is Kincaid and I am a bleeding heart pussy who feels sorry for cop killers and I have no concept of what it means to wear a badge like the rest of these fine men.”
Louis felt his body go tight. The room was dead silent and the five faces became a blur.
“Explain to your fellow officers why you let a cop killer go.”
Louis kept his eyes on Gibralter. “The computer report said Lacey was still in prison. We didn’t — ”
Gibralter cut in sharply. “Take responsibility for your own actions, officer. There is no we in this scenario.”
Louis glanced at Jesse but he wouldn’t look at him. “I had no reason to hold him,” Louis said.
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 deserve to be with them,” Gibralter said, pointing the cigarette. “And second, the way they feel about you right now I wouldn’t put it past someone to take a shot at you.”
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, Louis thought.
“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.”