In the Bleak Midwinter

Old instinct had sent Russ flat into the straw and the cowshit when Ethan’s shotgun went off. A second later, he was back up, crouching against the wall, where he had a chance of keeping the terrified Holstein from crushing him. Throughout the barn, he could hear disturbed lowing and thuds and clanks as the agitated cows tried to flee their stalls.

Ethan couldn’t reach him from that tank room door. The boy would have to shoot directly into the stall, opening himself up to Russ’s fire. So as long as they both stayed put, they were safe. The cow’s white-rimmed eye rolled back and fixed on him. She kicked ineffectually, then tried to rid herself of the intruder by leaning against the wall. Russ rolled into a ball and went underneath her, hitting his head on her udder. She bellowed and stamped, narrowly missing taking the fingers off his left hand. He imagined his obituary in tomorrow’s Post-Star: POLICE CHIEF SLAIN BY COW. He rolled out the other side of her and stood up as far as he could without exposing himself to Ethan’s fire. He hit the cow hard with the flat of his hand, as he’d seen his brother-in-law do when his stock got unruly.

She bellowed again, but it seemed to settle her. “Good girl,” he said, thumping her a few more times for good measure. “Ethan!” He raised his voice to be heard down the dimming length of the barn. “I’m willing to say that gun went off by accident. Right now, you’re facing resisting arrest and threatening a police officer. Don’t make it attempted murder. Put the shotgun down and walk out of the barn with your hands on top of your head.”

“Don’t jerk with me! I know you came here to arrest me for Katie’s murder! I didn’t do it!” Ethan’s voice had the shaky, defiant sound young men get when they’re half-wild with fear and half-drunk on the power of the weapon in their hands. Russ had heard it in jungles and in Third World cities and in squad cars and coming from his own mouth.

“If you say you didn’t do it, Ethan, I’ll believe you. I came here to ask you to take a blood test, to see if Katie’s baby was yours.”

“You lie! Everybody thinks I did it! I didn’t! I could never hurt her! I loved her!”

“Then let’s go to someplace more comfortable than this, and you can clear everything up for me. If you loved Katie, help me find who did kill her.”

“I can’t clear anything up, you asshole! I was drinking alone in my car before I went to Videotek that night. I know I don’t have any damn alibi. Nobody saw me, I got no one who can say I didn’t do it. You don’t give two shits about who really killed her. You just want to arrest someone, and I’m the easy suspect. You think I’m just a punk anyway.”

“I think you’re a guy who’s in trouble and who needs someone to listen to him seriously. Look, Ethan, you know me. I don’t come off like Joe Friday.” Jesus, had this kid ever heard of Joe Friday? “I cut you a break last week, when I knew you’d been drinking. Because I’m not interested in an arrest record. I want to help people keep out of trouble. Let me help you now.”

“You can help me by getting the hell out of here and leaving me alone! I didn’t kill her!”

Russ spread his hands against the cow’s warm flank. Somewhere, there was a magic combination of words that would get the kid to lay down his gun and walk out with no one hurt. All he had to do was find them. “Ethan, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. I am going to give you the facts, so that you can make an informed decision. Fact. You picked up a shotgun and fired on a peace officer. That’s not going to go away. Fact. Right now, there are cops from the town and the sheriff’s department and the state all converging on your farm. Some of them aren’t gonna be too particular if you leave this barn walking or feet-first. Fact. I will listen to anything you have to say about Katie and the night she died with an open mind, and I will pursue this investigation until I’m satisfied we have the real killer. Fact. You’ve got the power, right here and now, to stop this thing. You can put down your weapon, walk out of here, and make your parents the happiest people alive tonight. Or you can choose to shoot it out with a state SWAT team. What do you think the outcome of that will be?”

The cows lowed. Chains rattled. Somewhere, water dripped from a faucet.

“This is Officer Durkee of the Millers Kill Police,” a voice shouted from outside the barn.