“I try not to,” Louis said.
Cloverdale gave a low soft laugh. He raised the gun in a salute, turned and was lost in the swirling snow.
CHAPTER 14
“Turn on the defroster.”
“It’s on.”
“Well, then turn it up.”
“It’s up as high as it goes,” Jesse said. He rubbed the windshield with his sleeve. “Goddamn it, I can’t see a thing.”
“Jess, pull over,” Louis said.
“What for?”
“I’ll drive.”
“I can drive.”
“Not the way you’re acting, you can’t. Slow down or we’re going to end up wrapped around a damn tree.”
Jesse slowed to thirty-five. The cruiser crept along the snow-clogged county road. Louis let out a breath of relief when they turned back onto the main highway. It, too, was snowed over, but at least it was four lanes the rest of the way back to Loon Lake. They drove in edgy silence for fifteen minutes.
“You get anything useful back there?” Jesse asked finally.
“I’m not sure,” Louis said. He told him what Cloverdale had said.
“So the killer’s military,” Jesse said.
“Maybe.”
“But you don’t think he’s one of those guys?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Gut feeling.”
Jesse gave a small laugh. “Gut feeling. Right.”
Louis stared at Jesse. He was gripping the wheel with his right hand, his left hand bent against his temple. Louis glanced at the speedometer. What the hell was wrong now?
“Jess,” he said, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why you snapping at me?”
Jesse didn’t look at him. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I’m tired, that’s all.”
Louis decided to let it go. They rode the rest of the way in silence, picking up the freshly plowed wake of a snowplow just as they turned onto the road at the north end of the lake.
Florence’s voice came over the radio, asking for their location. When Louis radioed back that they were on their way back to the station, Florence told them Gibralter was waiting for them at Dot’s. Louis acknowledged the call and signed off.
“Now what?” Jesse muttered.
“Probably just wants an update,” Louis said.
“Probably wants to chew out my ass for something.”
Jesse pushed the cruiser up to forty-five. The gated entrances to tourist homes flew past. They were coming up fast on a slow-moving red truck and Louis resisted the urge to tell Jesse again to slow down.
“Ford,” Jesse said suddenly.
“What?”
“It’s a red Ford,” Jesse said, peering out at the sludge-encrusted truck ahead of them.
For a second, Louis’s heart beat faster. No, it was too new. Art Taub said the Ford was old and rusted. “It’s not the one. Let him go, Jess,” Louis said.
“No, damn it. His tint’s too dark.”
Jesse flipped on the lights and squawked the siren twice. The driver’s head snapped toward his rearview mirror and he swung to the side of the road. As they pulled up, Louis could see the truck was a new model with not a dent on it, let alone rust.
Jesse was out of the cruiser before Louis could reply. With a sigh, he grabbed the clipboard and followed.
The driver was about thirty, with a thin pale face and a fizz of dirty red hair. He had an old paisley bandana wrapped around his forehead and a small gold hoop in his left ear. On his chin, a sprout of whiskers struggled to form a goatee.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked nervously.
Jesse opened the truck door. “Get out.”
“Is that a request or an order?”
“Get out of the fucking truck.”
The man moved slowly. Jesse yanked him from the car so forcefully he fell to the pavement. The man grabbed the door handle to pull himself up, his eyes wide as he looked at Jesse. He wasn’t wearing a coat, just faded jeans and a dingy white T-shirt.
Louis stepped forward. “Your driver’s license, please,” he said.
The man’s pale eyes darted to the truck. “It’s in that bag on the seat.”
Jesse reached in and pulled out a Crown Royal bag. He retrieved the man’s license and thrust it out at Louis. When Louis hesitated Jesse said, “You gonna run that or not?”
“This license is expired, Mr. Bates,” Louis said.
“Dear me, there just aren’t enough hours in the day,” the man said with a sigh.
Louis glanced at Jesse. Christ, he was bouncing on his toes to nail this guy for something. The best thing to do was get this over as quickly as possible. He started back to the cruiser.
“Love the uniform, man,” Bates called after him.
Louis heard a clunk and looked back. Jesse had Bates flat against the truck, reaching for his cuffs. Louis keyed the mike and told Florence to run the plate and license. He had to get this over with fast before Bates lost a few front teeth.
Louis leaned against the cruiser and watched as Jesse began to search the truck’s interior. What the hell was he doing now? If he found anything, Bates would scream illegal search. He was just about to call to Jesse when Florence came back advising that Bates was free of warrants and priors.
Bates was hollering to Jesse from the rear of the truck. “You going to search
“Shut up,” Louis said.
Jesse came out of the truck holding a small plastic bag.
“What’s that?” Louis asked.
“Looks like grass to me,” Jesse said, shaking it in Bates’s face. “I asked you if there was any drugs in the truck, asshole. You lied to me.”
“Hey, you didn’t have any right to search my truck,” Bates said. “I’ve got rights here.”
Jesse spun around and grabbed Bates by the back of the T-shirt. “Keep your fucking mouth shut!” He slammed Bates’s head down against the side of the truck bed. Louis jumped forward, ripping Jesse’s arm from Bates’s collar.
Blood dripped from Bates’s nose as he staggered backward. Louis caught his sleeve to keep him balanced and glared at Jesse. “That wasn’t necessary,” Louis said.
“I don’t have to take lip from any faggot butt-fucker,” Jesse hissed.
“Look, cut the macho bullshit. This isn’t the time or the place, you got that?” Louis said, his voice low.
