Doyle McKenzie walked into the quiet room and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Hello, Red.” McKenzie smacked Lars twice on the face with an open hand, hard enough to get the old man’s attention. McKenzie wanted Lars to know this was no social visit. “Damn, old boy. You have most certainly looked better.”
Lars looked back with distrust in his eyes. McKenzie knew the former chief had never cared for him, and the feeling was mutual.
“You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing here, huh? We sure didn’t see much of each other on the job. Truth be told, Lars, I had every reason in the world to avoid your ass. But no hard feelings. Turns out Jorgensen’s every bit the pain in the ass you were, just for different reasons.”
Lars kept his eyes focused on McKenzie, and the detective kept talking.
“I imagine that son-in-law of yours has come by and filled your head with all sorts of bullshit, huh?”
Still McKenzie got nothing but a hard look so he kept talking.
“Yeah, Sawyer is a real piece of work. A fucking straight arrow if there ever was one. You ever have a sergeant like that? Meddling around in your affairs? I’m sure you can appreciate what a pain in my ass he is.” McKenzie delivered the lines as if to say the two old cops had some shared history with by-the-book sergeants.
“I suppose you think I’m here to talk about your daughter, but that’s old news. Sorry to be the one to tell you, but she’s bought and paid for.” McKenzie’s tone was flippant. “Now, this ancient shit here, this we need to talk about.”
McKenzie pulled yellowed papers from an envelope. “You remember this? Long time ago but, hey, it was a hell of an arrest. I seem to recall they made you Officer of the Year off of this, right? The big time comes to Newberg.”
McKenzie held the report out where the old man could see his handwriting from almost twenty years ago. “But I got some bad news for you, Lars. Seems this old boy, Harlan Lee, might be out settling some old scores. Can you believe that shit?”
McKenzie waited for some acknowledgment and was certain he saw a look of understanding in the old man’s eyes. “Problem is, Lars, Jorgensen’s worried you might come around and get all talkative, about what I sure as hell can’t say. Course, that don’t seem to be much of a concern at present, huh?”
McKenzie waited as if expecting a response. After a long moment of shared silence, McKenzie went on.
“I told him, Lars Norgaard is a stand-up guy. Good copper. It’s just…” McKenzie paused, as if what he had to say caused him personal discomfort. “There’s a lot at stake, Lars. And with your little girl up on a murder rap, that shit has got to screw with your sensibilities.”
McKenzie pulled a syringe from his pocket and removed the orange cap over the needle. He took hold of the plastic tube that ran food into Lars’s body. “I’m just as sorry as I can be, old man. Hell, if you had something to live for, we could work through all the details. I’d be happy to somehow spring your daughter and figure out another way to take care of this mess. But that damn son-in-law of yours … It’s best this way, Lars.”
McKenzie lifted the syringe up to the tube and poked the needle through the plastic. His thumb pressed down on the plunger just as the old man somehow raised his arm. He cuffed McKenzie across the wrist, and the syringe fell to the floor.
“Goddamn it, Lars,” McKenzie said. “Knock it off. Take this shit like a man.” He dropped to his knees and cursed as he got down on his belly and low-crawled halfway under the bed.
“Excuse me? What’s going on here?”
McKenzie recognized the voice and cursed under his breath. He shimmied farther ahead and saw the syringe clear against the wall and well beyond his reach. He stretched his full length just as the voice sounded again, this time with her usual tone of superiority. “Come out from under there this instant.”
McKenzie struggled to back out from the tight fit under the bed. Frustrated and out of breath, he stood and turned to the familiar face of Bernice Erickson.
“Oh,” she said, her voice full of contempt. “It’s you.”
McKenzie could barely conceal his own irritation. He knew there would be no fooling this one, but he had to play along as best he could. “Hey, Bernice. Paying your old boss a visit?”
Bernice walked deliberately to the bed, putting herself between McKenzie and Lars. She clearly wasn’t buying it. “Get out, Detective.”
McKenzie dug deep to put some authority in his voice. “Listen here—”
Bernice put her shoulders back and faced the much larger man. Her voice was firm. “I said get out. If you don’t, I’ll call security.”
“I’ve got as much right to be here as you do, you old—”
McKenzie stopped when his cell phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the area code was out of Florence County. McKenzie glared at Bernice as he stepped into the hallway.
The two-minute conversation left McKenzie shaking his head wondering when he was going to catch a damn break. He hung up the phone craving a drink and a smoke. McKenzie needed to make arrangements for what he knew would be Sawyer’s next move. And his last one, if I have anything to do with it.
McKenzie poked his head back inside the old man’s room and saw Bernice Erickson had now pulled up a stool. The old bitch was already on the phone speaking to someone about an unauthorized visitor. Defeated for now, McKenzie scowled at Lars. The old man looked back with what seemed a sideways fuck you sort of glance. McKenzie headed down the hallway with pressing matters at hand. He’d deal with Lars Norgaard another time.