They went inside, the heavy door locking behind them. The pale blue room was small and it reeked of pine air freshener. The small single window was hung with flowered curtains, frost visible between the bars. At the table in the center of the room sat a slender teenager. He wore the regulation blue pants and a denim shirt, which ballooned around his thin chest. His dark head was bowed, his bony hands clasped together on the table, his legs wrapped around the metal folding chair.
Louis cleared his throat.
Cole Lacey’s moved from Louis’s shoes up over his uniform to his face. As they skipped over to Jesse Cole’s posture changed slowly from the languidness of an arrogant teenager to a stiffness that Louis read as fear.
Cole stood up and slowly moved around the back of the chair, like an alley cat trying to sidle away from predators. “What do you guys want?” he asked.
“Sit down,” Louis said.
“No.”
Louis reached over and grabbed Cole’s shoulder. The boy tensed but allowed himself to be set back down in the chair. Louis pulled a metal chair from the wall and sat down across the table from Cole.
“We want to ask you about your father,” Louis said.
“Haven’t seen him,” Cole mumbled.
“Don’t lie to us.”
“Fuck you.”
Louis leaned across the table. “Look, Cole, your father is wanted for the murder of two police officers. We tend to take things like that rather personal, you understand me?”
Cole lowered his head. His nape was red from the fresh scrape of a razor haircut. “I don’t know nothing about that.”
Louis slapped one of Cole’s letters on the table. “Look at me,” he said.
Cole eyed the letter then lifted his eyes. “That’s private stuff. You got no right to it.”
“You want to tell us what you and your dad talked about during his visits?”
Cole’s eyes drifted away.
Louis sat back, drawing in a breath. “I’m going to explain something to you, Cole, and I want you to listen very carefully. This thing with your father is going to end one of two ways. One, you tell us where your old man is, we arrest him and when you get out of here you can go visit him because he’ll still be alive.”
Cole’s eyes flicked up to Jesse, who was standing behind Louis, and then down to the table.
Louis tapped Cole’s face, just light enough to get his attention. Cole’s jaw twitched as he stared at Louis.
“Or two, we can hunt your father down like a dog,” Louis went on, “and when you get out of here five years from now you can plant flowers on his grave.”
“I don’t know nothing.”
“Okay, then let me tell you what we know,” Louis said. “We know your dad told you what he was going to do. We know he didn’t live around here and that you did. We know you know where he is now.”
Cole glared at him. “I’m not telling you guys shit.”
“This is no time to go brain-dead, Cole,” Louis said slowly, unable to hide his growing anger. “We will find your father. If we have to hunt day and night, ass deep in snow, we will bust open every damn cabin door, look behind every fucking tree and under every fucking rock. Because he killed two cops, Cole. You have any idea what that does to another cop’s mind?”
“Ask me if I care,” Cole muttered.
“You care about your father’s life?”
Cole gave a laugh of derision. “Yeah, sure. I care, man. I care so much my heart is fucking breaking.”
Louis glanced back at Jesse, who was standing motionless, arms folded over his chest, staring at Cole with undisguised contempt.
“Okay, well, maybe you care about saving your own skin then,” Louis said, looking back to Cole.
“You can’t do anything to me,” Cole said.
“Wanna bet? The law says you get out of here when you’re twenty-one,” Louis said. “If we find out you know something about these murders we’re going to charge you with everything we can. That means next time you’ll be tried as an adult and do you know where you go then?”
“You can’t connect me to this shit,” Cole spat out.
“You ever been to Jackson State Penitentiary?”
Cole laughed. “Sure, right. Now you’re gonna take me on one of those scared-straight tours? Huh? Are ya?”
Louis rose slowly. Cole watched him, the smirk slowly sliding off his face. He pressed himself back into the folding chair.
Louis came around the table and stood in front of Cole. “You want a tour, asshole?” Louis asked.
Cole tried to muster another smirk but it came out as a grimace. “Yeah, give me a tour, nigger,” he said, the last word dying to a whisper.
“What did you say?”
Cole wouldn’t look up. He stuck his thin legs out, extending them toward Louis’s feet. Louis kicked them. The chair scraped the floor, nearly folding. Cole grabbed the table for support but ran smack into Louis’s face.
“Listen to me, you little piece of shit,” Louis whispered between clenched teeth. “We’re pissed. And when cops get pissed, they don’t care if assholes like you die.”
Louis could feel Cole’s breath on his face and could see something in the kid’s eyes. The kid knew where Lacey was. He knew, damn it.
“You gonna hit me?” Cole said, trying to smile.
Louis grabbed Cole’s chin. “Look, you little prick. You like it here? You like this place? Five years is a long time. How’d you like to make it two?”
“What?” Cole croaked.
“You tell us where your old man is and you walk out of here on your eighteenth birthday.”
Cole’s eyes flicked form Louis to Jesse and back to Louis. Louis could almost see the wheels turning in the kid’s brain. Cole pulled his face away, rubbing his chin.
Louis took a step back, folding his arms over his chest. “Offer expires in ten seconds,” he said. He had no authority to make such a deal but Cole didn’t know that.
“Why should I tell you anything?” Cole said.
“Five seconds.”
“I ain’t giving you my old man.”
“You’re stupid, Cole,” Louis said.
A slow grin came over Cole’s face. “Yeah? Who’s stupid, man? You had him and let him go.”
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.
Jesus, what am I doing?
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.