In the Bleak Midwinter

The door opened. Russ and Officer Durkee walked in. The young man smiled discreetly at Clare, who waggled her fingers at him. He’d been good company at the hospital the night she’d found Cody.

Russ cleared his throat. Officer Durkee fell in, his face serious. Russ held up a curling sheet of fax paper. “Karen Burns,” he began formally. “I have here a copy of a warrant executed by Judge Ryswick granting us permission to search your cars and to confiscate any firearms in your or your husband’s possession for testing. We are also warranted to search your house for any materials possibly related to the deaths of Katie McWhorter and Darrell McWhorter.” He folded the piece of paper carefully, creasing it with finger and thumb pressed tightly together. “Judge Ryswick thought our new information was sufficient to issue a separate warrant for your husband’s arrest.”

Karen’s posture went rigid, and her arm, still holding the back of the chair, trembled slightly. She made no other sign or sound.

“However, I won’t execute the arrest if Geoff presents himself to the station for questioning within the next two hours. I’ve sent someone to your office to let him know. If he comes home first, of course, we’ll have someone there,” Russ said. “Officer Durkee will accompany you to your vehicle. If you’ll hand over your keys?”

“I want to call my lawyer. Now.”

“There’s a phone at the main desk. Mark, will you escort Mrs. Burns to the phone?”

Karen shot Clare a venomous glance. “Confession and repentance?” Her voice hissed like caustic lye. She turned and swept out of the interview room, Officer Durkee close on her heels.

Clare faced Russ. “This is absolutely outrageous!”

“Stay out of it, Clare.”

“Stay out of it? I’m the one who persuaded her to come in her and tell you the truth! How you can twist that around in order to search her car and her house. . . . Are you going to arrest Geoff Burns?”

“Depends on whether he shows up or not. What he says in the interview. I may very well hold him overnight while we test the gun.”

Clare clenched her teeth to keep her voice from rising. “I brought Karen Burns in here. I persuaded her to come clean with you. I assured her you would listen to her. I thought—”

“No, you didn’t think. You just jumped in feet first without looking where you were going or considering the consequences. I’m a cop, Clare! What the hell did you expect me to do when a woman I suspect is an accessory to two murders walks in and tells me her husband was drunk and unaccounted for during the time Darrell McWhorter was killed? Shake her hand and give her a good citizenship badge? Get real!”

Clare pressed her hands flat against the table to keep them from shaking. “I was trying to help—”

“You were trying to help the Burnses, yeah, I know. And you’re trying to help Kristen McWhorter, and the baby, and the unwed mothers of the world, and every damn soul you come across. That’s why you’re a priest, Clare. I, on the other hand, am a cop. The only thing I’m trying to do is catch the sonofabitch who killed Katie McWhorter and her father and send him to the chair. And I will do anything—anything within the law—if it means getting closer to that arrest.” He spread his legs slightly and hooked his thumbs into his belt, an archetype of law enforcement authority. “If that interferes with your agenda, I’m sorry. But don’t act the outraged innocent with me when I’m doing my job.”

Clare flushed hotly. “You! Can kiss my ass!”

“Oh, very nice. They teach you that in seminary?”

She spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, past an embarrassed-looking Harlene, past the abandoned main desk. Behind her, she could hear Russ’s voice, exasperated, angry. “Clare. Clare!”

She took the stairs two at a time and burst out into the icy night air. She interlaced her fingers tightly and took a deep breath. The cold, dry air made her cough. She clattered down the front steps, almost losing her footing, and swung around the corner into the station parking lot.

Karen was standing next to her Range Rover, arms folded. Officer Durkee was inside, his flashlight bouncing off the windows and mirrors. Karen’s lips pinched together when she saw Clare. “I’m not going to be able to give you a lift back to my place. My vehicle’s going to be out of commission for awhile. And I have to wait for our lawyer to get here.” She glanced at Durkee’s shadowy form. “I’ve asked him to try to get a stay on the warrant.”

“Karen,” Clare began. “I’m so sorry . . .”

The other woman pulled a knit hat from her coat pocket and twisted her hair underneath it. Automatically, she pulled a few loose curls down here and there, framing her face. “I’m sure you are. And I’m sure that when this is all over, I’ll be able to listen to your apology. But right now, I’d rather you just leave me and my husband alone.”