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  “I’m sorry, Gerry.”

  “Me too. Darcy was the best kid, I’ve known her all her life, she was really sweet and special and …” a dark cloud covered his face and Scroggins had to turn partially away for a moment. “It’s just a fucking tragedy when it’s someone you know real well. That’s all. The funeral was last night, Jeff and I went and Barb and Chad lost it during the service, just lost it.

  “But at least now they know for sure what happened and can try and move on,” he continued. “They’re young enough they could have more kids, if they want, I don’t know. Important thing, it’s all over. It’s over for everyone and we can all move on. After I get all the paperwork and shit done, I’m going to have myself a nice stiff drink. Speaking of which …” he smiled at her, and she recognized the opening, got ready for it.

  “Hey, what’s going on over here?” Gilday joined them. “Did you guys see this?” he held up a newspaper, the headline of which read “ICEMAN ICES SELF!”

  “I did see that one.”

  “Lord, we’re gonna be reading shit like that for a long time,” Scroggins said.

  “How’s it going, Emma?”

  “Good, Jeff, how are you?”

  “Better and better and it’ll only go up from here. What are you two talking about?”

  “Nothin’, just shooting the shit,” Scroggins replied.

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes Jeff, that’s all, Christ.”

  Thorne stalked by the break room without saying good morning to anyone and headed for his desk.

  “I gotta talk to him, guys,” Kane said, “I’ll chat with you later.” Kane started walking after Thorne.

  “Hey, Emma, how much longer are you and Thorne sticking around?” Gilday asked.

  “Not long at all, Captain Asshole wants us out of his hair and our boss wants us back ASAP,” Kane replied over her shoulder. “I just got an email from our section chief. We’re supposed to take the next flight out tonight.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Scroggins said.

  “Yeah, that’s out of the question,” Gilday chimed in.

  “Why, what are you talking about?”

  “There’s a weather report on my desk, take a look at it when you go by.”

  “What, is it going to snow again?”

  “You might say that.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Kane raised her curious eyebrow at both of them and snatched the weather report off of Scroggins’s desk as she walked by.

  Chapter Forty

  Kane found Thorne at his usual spot in front of his chessboard, the Miles Davis song “So What” playing on his CD player. Thorne was on the phone and while he talked, Kane took a look at the weather report in her hand.

  “Yeah, Pete, that’s what they tell me,” Thorne said into the phone. “Nothing’s wrong, I am brimming with happiness and joy. I’m doing cartwheels down the street. I’m fucking high on life, Pete. Yeah. Yeah. Hey, whatever she wrote is fine by me. She handled the operation, a lippy broad but definitely functional for the most part, which is more than I can say for some people.”

  Kane noted the backhanded compliment Thorne had just paid to her as she finished the weather report. She sat down at her desk opposite Thorne.

  “So enough of this happy horseshit, I hear we’re flying back ASAP. So I’m back on Kevorkian? What’s that? I didn’t just hear what I heard, right? Pete. Pete? Do not fuck with me on this, all right? You gave me your word, doesn’t that mean anything? Pete, I’m starting to not like you now. I don’t care, just keep your fucking word,” Thorne hung up on Viera and did so rather violently, in Kane’s view.

  Thorne hunched over his chessboard, selected a black bishop and captured a white knight. He spun the board around to consider the game from the other side.

  “Are they going to let you work the Mercy Killings?” Kane asked.

  “Eventually. Just not at the moment.”

  “That’s bullshit, neither of these cases here would have been closed if it weren’t for you. That’s fucking bullshit.”

  “Yes, Kane. It is fucking bullshit. What do you want?”

  “Couple things. Item one. The wealth of evidence recovered from McNeil’s house over the last three days makes it now official. The Heartland Child Murders is now considered closed and our perpetrator caught.

  “The governor will be making a statement to that effect later on in the day. DNA and dental records confirmed that many of the body parts in the house belonged to several of the unaccounted for missing girls, at least one of whom has been missing for over a year. Found her remains in his freezer, along with some unidentified parts.

  “They have officially linked seven names to him and his house so far and they expect that number to keep going up. Ballistics matched the forty-five in his hands to the bullets that were fired at us. The pubic hair in the baggie matched to Trent Boyd, we don’t yet know how he got it but he somehow did.

  “They even found Wendy Frederickson’s pajamas. They haven’t found the remains of Darcy Mullens as of yet, but they expect to. So it’s official. Bart McNeil was the Iceman. We’re done here,” Kane looked at Thorne expectantly.

  “If you say we’re done, then I guess we must be done.”

  “Item two, I’m sure you got the email, they want us back ASAP and to fly out tonight. Unfortunately, there’s been an added wrinkle.”

  “What?”

  “I just got the weather report from Gerry. Major winter storm heading our way, going to hit here in two or three hours.”

  “So?”

  “So no flights out, they’re canceling everything, telling people not to even drive. We’re talking one mother of a blizzard, two feet of snow and eighty mile an hour winds. We can’t fly out for at least a day, maybe longer. We’re stuck here.”

  “Great. We’ve won the Lotto. First prize, a trip to Nebraska. Second prize, two trips to Nebraska. Fucking Pete,” Thorne moved a white rook and reversed the board again to play black.

  “Thorne?”

  “What?”

  “What’s the real reason you play chess against yourself?”

  “That’s one of those questions that, if you have to ask it, then you won’t understand the answer.”

  Scroggins and Gilday joined Kane and Thorne. Scroggins held out his hand to Thorne.

  “Agent Thorne, I just wanted to say that it was a real pleasure watching you work.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Gilday also held out his hand. “None of this would have been possible if it weren’t for you and we would have never gotten to the end of this thing.”

  Thorne sighed, leaned forward and with both hands grasped each man by the right wrist and quickly joined them together, making them shake hands with each other and thus avoiding the exercise himself.

  “Thank each other.”

  The two large men laughed as they shook hands. Thorne reclined back in his chair.

  “You’re a crazy bastard, Thorne, but I like ya,” Gilday said.

  Scroggins quickly swiveled to Kane.

  “Emma, it’s been great working with you, too.”

  “Yeah, Emma, it’s been a real pleasure, and I was wondering if you would be interested …”

  “If you would like to go out to dinner with me,” Scroggins interrupted Gilday.

  “Hey, I started first!” Gilday protested.

  “And I finished first!”

  “You sneaky son of a bitch …”

  “Hey, whoa, fellas, what the hell?” Kane waved her hands. “What’s going on?”

  “Would you go out to dinner with me?” Gilday asked.

  “Or would you go out to dinner with me?”

  “Go out with one of us, at least.”

  “Who said I’m going to go out with anybody?”

  “You’re single, you’re free. You have to go out with somebody, why not one of us?”

  “You can’t argue with that logic, Hotlips,” Thorne said.

  “I d
on’t HAVE to go out with anybody.”

  “Hell, Emma, after all we’ve been through,” Scroggins said, “the least you could do is to go to dinner with one of us.”

  “Besides, you’re snowed in, so why not?” Gilday added.

  “Why don’t the three of us have dinner together?”

  “Hah! Knew she was a kinky one,” Thorne snorted.

  “Gerry and I couldn’t do that, it would ruin our fun but competitive friendship.”

  “He’s right, there would be a weird vibe. You’ll just have to choose one of us,” Scroggins said.

  “I can’t just choose between you two guys, and besides, the most I will agree to is just a friendly dinner.”

  “That’s cool with us, we’re friendly guys. Pick one of us for a friendly dinner.”

  “Pick one. We’ll be fine either way, whoever you pick. Honest. Which will it be?”

  Kane looked at Thorne, who shrugged.

  “Don’t look at me,” he replied, “if it weren’t for the nametags I wouldn’t even be able to tell them apart.”

  “Come on, Emma, we’re nice guys, give one of us country boys a break.”

  “Well,” Kane was charmed despite herself. “All right. Dinner. Just dinner.”

  “Great. Who’s it going to be?”

  “Who’s it going to be?”

  “Do I have to pick just one of you?”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  “Absolutely, no other way around it.”

  “Well then. I’m going to have to say … Gerry.”

  “Yes!”

  “But only because he asked me first, really, Jeff.”

  “I started to ask first, but butthead here interrupted me.”

  “Gerry started to ask me in the break room and I never answered, really that’s the only reason,” Kane said.

  “Really?”

  “I hinted at it, buddy, I didn’t really come out and straight out ask her, honest.”

  “Cheater.”

  “If we’re stuck here another day then I’ll have dinner with you tomorrow night, my word on that Jeff,” Kane said.

  “I will go out and do my snow dance then, just so you’ll have to stay,” Gilday replied. “Gerry, you cheating bastard.”

  “All right!” Scroggins rubbed his hands together.

  “But listen, Gerry,” Kane said, “it’s just dinner, it’s not a real date, okay?”

  “Hey, I’ll take whatever I can get. Pick you up here at six?”

  “Sure.”

  Scroggins walked away happily, pumping his fist in the air. “Yes! Yeah boy, yeah!”

  “If that’s how excited he gets for a dinner between friends,” Thorne observed, “then I don’t want to be in the room when he gets a real date.”

  “Word of warning,” Gilday said. “When he puts Bon Jovi on the stereo, that’s when he’s gonna make his move.”

  “Thanks, Jeff, but there will be no moves, trust me,” she replied. “It’s not a real date, it’s just dinner, really.”

  “Okay, just remember, Bon Jovi, the slow power ballad, that’s when he’s going for it,” Gilday pointed a finger gun salute at them both, fired and then walked away.

  Kane felt the weight of Thorne’s gaze and looked at him.

  “It’s not a real date,” she said. “It’s not.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The blizzard hit at six-thirty and hit hard. Sheets of snow swirled in thick clouds over the highways and visibility was next to nothing. Snowplows worked nonstop but as soon as they removed snow, more piled on. A traveler’s advisory was changed to a traveler’s warning, which in turn became a blanket announcement on all stations warning everyone to stay off the roads and to stay home.

  Thorne sat in his usual spot at headquarters, feet up on the table with a view of both his chessboard and the map of Nebraska on the wall. Charlie “Bird” Parker played on his CD player, digging into his classic “K.C. Blues.” Next to Nina Simone, Charlie Parker was probably Thorne’s favorite jazz stylist, but the usual comfort that came from the Bird at work was slow to arrive this night and that frustrated Thorne almost as much as the chess game.

  It was a touchy spot in the game and there were few pieces left on his chessboard for either side. Thorne considered the game from the white point of view. Hairston and Johnson walked by busily and stopped when they saw him.

  “Agent Thorne?” Hairston asked. “What are you still doing here?”

  “Nothing good on cable.”

  “I’m assuming your flight was delayed or cancelled?”

  “Assume away, Norman.”

  “Oh. Well, we’re on a skeleton crew tonight, but Sergeant Johnson and I will be here for awhile catching up on some paperwork, so if you need anything …”

  “If I need anything, Norman, I will scream and I will shout.”

  Hairston and Johnson glanced at each other. Thorne was one strange bird, as had been discussed around the office more than once, and one had to wonder how in the hell someone like him got a badge and a gun.

  He was possibly a dangerous bird as well. There was scuttlebutt that Thorne and the captain had perhaps had a small altercation in the toilet, one the captain was on the losing end of, which was hard to believe since Forsythe was six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier. Forsythe steadfastly denied any such altercation occurred and denied it rather hotly as well. The captain maintained that he slipped and fell on the wet floor and while he was on the floor, Thorne asked him to recommend a good restaurant.

  Either story was unsettling and strange. One thing was certain, the captain may hate Thorne no less than he did before, but he sure as hell was less open about it than previously. All of which added fuel to the rumor fire that Thorne was not a person to be trifled with.

  Not that Johnson would even think of trifling with him, from day one Thorne scared the bejesus out of him. Hairston and Johnson shrugged and left Thorne to hunch over his chessboard while in the care of Charlie “Bird” Parker.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Kane, a bottle of wine in hand, followed Scroggins into his house. Kane hadn’t been on a date in quite some time. Actually, it’d been years since her last one. Much of her personal life had gotten put into cold storage since The Van Incident. Since getting out of the force and accepted into Quantico, she hadn’t thought that it would ever be any other way, but here she was. Kane took off her coat and hung it on the rack. They both kicked off their snow boats, cheeks ruddy from the cold.

  “Welcome to the house of Gerry!” Scroggins opened his arms.

  Scroggins’s house was well kept and clean, Kane noted, a dining room with a table already set for dinner, a snug living room complete with a fire already burning in the fireplace and a flight of stairs that led up to the second floor, leading, Kane assumed, to his bedroom. It is probably better if the particulars of that room are left solely to my imagination, Kane thought to herself. A very cozy house, not quite what Kane imagined a single guy like Scroggins would have all by his lonesome.

  “This is a beautiful home. My God. Something smells really good.”

  “I told you, I can cook, seriously cook real food that folks can actually eat. Just a second,” Scroggins reached past Kane to punch in a code into the alarm box next to the front door. His face came within inches of hers and she caught a whiff of cologne, which she found quite pleasing, very conscious of him at that moment.

  “Sorry, I always have the alarm on. I guess being a cop has made me ultra security conscious.”

  “Me too.”

  Kane, in her stocking feet, followed Scroggins into his kitchen and set the wine on the counter. She was struck by a feeling of comfort and safety. It reminded her of her childhood, sitting in a cozy kitchen filled with warmth and wonderful smells while the wind pounded on the windows outside.

  It took her by surprise, this feeling, she hadn’t thought about her childhood or anything to do with growing up in a long time. Being a child and being a cop were often points of view
diametrically opposed. That Scroggins was able to resurrect that memory, even unintentionally, caused Kane to smile wide at him, in spite of herself.

  “So what’s for dinner?”

  “You’re gonna love it, I dug this recipe up … wait a minute, shit. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

  “Not yet. But I have been considering it.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  A couple of hours later and Thorne was still in front of his chessboard. He listened to his other favorite, Nina Simone, on the CD player. She crooned her classic “I Put A Spell On You” at high volume. Thorne had been alternating Nina and Charlie, hoping for relief.

  The wind howled against the windows but Thorne was oblivious, concentrating only on his game while deep within the rhythm of the song.

  He’d always been capable of this. He had the ability to lose himself within a game and solid jazz. His concentration was so focused that much of the outside world at that point ceased to exist. Thorne put himself in this place in his mind and usually, at some point, the answer he sought would come. Thorne was a big believer in observable fact and old school math, but by themselves they weren’t strong enough to find an answer, they needed inspiration and imagination in order to be complete. Almost always they came together before the end of a game. Almost always.

  Thorne carefully moved his black knight forward, now within striking distance of the white king. The trap was set.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  After dinner had been served, eaten and the dishes loaded and humming away in the dishwasher, Kane and Scroggins settled on the couch in front of the fireplace to finish off the bottle of red wine that Kane had brought.