CHIEF PRICE WALKED INTO HIS NICE HOUSE HIGH ON THE BLUFF that overlooked the water. Too nice a place for a lawman in a town like Port Cook to be called honest. Granite countertops and vaulted ceilings and an enormous hearth with a big fire going. The house was well lit as if expecting guests. He had a woman who cleaned and cooked for him. She lived in a small cottage at the far end of the property. Surrounded by tall cedars and out of sight.
He came in and hung his Stetson by the door. He unbuckled the holster and hung the Desert Eagle near the hat. He came into the large kitchen and called the woman’s name. There was no answer. He crossed the kitchen to the bar. Adjacent the bar was a tall picture window and because all the light was gone from the sky the window was a mirror. He regarded the image therein for a moment. Then he made himself a drink.
The house was silent. He took his drink to the living room and turned on the television and then sat down on the sofa. The nightly news was on and what he saw he couldn’t quite believe. A shot of himself and the words SCANDAL and DISGRACED written below. Heard the name Eunice Thompson and the words human trafficking and he sat up and even though he knew it was true he couldn’t believe it. The anchor said a warrant had been issued for his arrest. That Price was suspected in the disappearances of several young women. His ultimate involvement, the anchor said, was still unknown.
And just then Price heard through all the gilded silence the clear and undeniable wail of sirens. From where he sat he could see where the road cut the forest along the shoreline and wending up was a glittering parade of police cruisers. The mirrored image of himself was frozen in the glass. He knew how this would end. There could be only one way.
Price stood calmly from the sofa. He went to the bar where he finished his drink and then took down a rare favorite bottle and poured a tall one. He drank half of it and then looked at the amber liquid through the crystal. Then he drank the rest. He crossed the house toward the door and took down his Stetson and his holster and went back out into the living room and stood before the tall windows contemplating the man he saw standing there. The evils committed. The breath that had been squandered. He squared the hat on his head then he pulled the Desert Eagle from its holster and bit the barrel. Then he pulled the trigger.