The Door to December

suddenly realized there was an intelligent purpose to the pauses of the frequency selector.
     We're being sent a message, she thought.      Something's coming .
     But a message from whom? From where?
     Earl looked at her, and the astonishment on his face made it clear that the same questions were in his mind.
     She wanted to move, run, get out of here. She could not lift her feet. Her bones had locked at every joint. Her muscles had petrified.
     The red dot stopped moving for no more than a second, perhaps only a fraction of a second. This time Laura recognized the tune from which the word was plucked. The Beatles were singing. Before the red dot continued on its way, the single word that came from the radio's speaker was also the title of the song: 'Something ...'
     The selector glided farther along the green-lit band, paused for an instant: '... is ...'
     It slipped off that station, sped to another: '... coming ...'
     The air was frigid, but that wasn't the only reason Laura was shivering.
      Something ... is ... coming ...
     Those three words were not merely a message. They were a warning.
    * * *
    Without opening it, Mondale had turned away from the door that connected the late Joseph Scaldone's office to the sales room at the Sign of the Pentagram. He faced Dan again, and both his anger and indignation had given way to a more fundamental emotion. Now his face was carved and his eyes were colored by pure hatred.
     Dan had mentioned Cindy Lakey for the first time in more than thirteen years. This was the dirty secret that they shared, the ever-spreading malignancy at the core of their relationship. Now, having brought it into the open, Dan was exhilarated by the prospect of forcing Mondale to face up to the consequences of his actions at long last.
     In a low, intense voice, the captain said, 'I didn't kill Cindy Lakey, damn it!'
     'You allowed it to happen when you could have prevented it.'
     'I'm not God,' Mondale said bitterly.
     'You're a cop. You have responsibilities.'
     'You smug bastard.'
     'You're sworn to protect the public.'
     'Yeah? Really? Well, the fuckin' public never cries over a dead cop,' Mondale said, still speaking softly in spite of his ferocity, guarding this conversation from the ears of those in the nearby shop.
     'You've also got a duty to stand up for a buddy, to protect your partner's backside.'
     'You sound like some half-baked little Boy Scout,' Mondale said scornfully. ' Esprit de corps. One for all and all for one. Crap! When it gets down to the nitty-gritty, it's always every man for himself, and you know it.'
     Already, Dan wished he had never mentioned Cindy Lakey's name. The exhilaration that had lifted him a moment ago was gone. In fact, his spirits sank lower than they had been. He felt bone weary. He had intended to make Mondale face up to his responsibilities after all these years, but it was too late. It had always been too late, because Mondale had never been the kind of man who could admit weakness or error. He always slipped out from under his mistakes or found a way to make others pay his penance for him. His record was clean, spotless, and probably would always remain spotless, not just in the eyes of most others but in his own eyes as well. He couldn't even admit his weaknesses and errors to himself. Ross Mondale was incapable of guilt or self-reproach. Right now, standing before Dan, he clearly felt no responsibility or remorse for what had happened to Cindy Lakey; the only emotion boiling through him now was irrational hatred directed at his ex-partner.
     Mondale said, 'If anyone was responsible for the death of that girl, it was her own mother.'
     Dan didn't want to continue the battle. He was as weary as a centenarian who had danced away his birthday night.
     Mondale said, 'Crucify her goddamned mother, not me.'
     Dan said nothing.
     Mondale said, 'Her mother was the one who dated Felix Dunbar in the first place.'
     Staring at the captain as if he were a pile of some noxious and not-quite-identifiable substance found on a city sidewalk, Dan said, 'Are you actually telling me Fran Lakey should have known Dunbar was unstable?'
     'Hell, yes.'
     'He was a nice guy, by all accounts.'
     'Blew her fuckin' head off, didn't he?'