Excerpt from Dead of Winter by P.J. Parrish, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Louis stared at the chief.

"Do you speak French?"

Louis shook his head.

"It’s Baudelaire. ‘There exists only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create.’ He smiled. "We’re neither priests or poets. That leaves soldiers."

He blew out a stream of smoke. His eyes seemed to change suddenly, turning cooler as he considered Louis.

"I can train a man to do almost anything," he said. "I can train him to shoot, I can train him to do the damn paperwork. I can even train him to kill. But there is one thing I cannot teach him. Do you know what that might be?"

Louis hesitated, trying to figure the best answer. "A sense of honor?"

"Is that what you think I want to hear or is that what you really think?"

"Well, I don't think you can teach honor," Louis said.

"The one thing I cannot teach a man is loyalty."

This was getting weird. What was next, Buddhist proverbs? Haiku?

"But as long as you feel honor is so important, perhaps you can define it for me," the chief said.

"I’d say that honor is acting with integrity."

The chief shook his head. "That's a clean conscience." He pointed the cigarette at Louis. "Honor is an exalted existence, earned by sacrifice and courage. It's what makes you brave when you're scared shitless and it's what makes that badge shine when you look in the mirror."

The chief paused to grind out his cigarette in a butt-filled ashtray. "So, does your badge shine?"

"Sir?" Louis had been looking at the photograph on the wall of the Army buddies, looking for the man in the foursome.

"Does your badge shine?"

Louis wanted to say he didn’t have a badge but knew that’s not what the chief wanted to hear. "Yes, sir."

The chief drifted behind him. Louis resisted the urge to turn around. He squinted at a framed newspaper clipping on the wall to see if he could read the name. This was nuts. He didn’t know who he was talking to. He was beginning to wonder what he was talking to.

"Can you do a hundred push-ups?" the voice behind him asked.

"Yes," Louis said, hoping he would not be asked to prove it.

"Can you pass a drug test?"

"Yes, sir."

"What'd you qualify as?"

"On the range? Expert."

"You ever killed anyone?"

Louis looked back at him over his shoulder. "No, sir."

The chief came back to stand before Louis. "Could you?" he asked.

Louis detected a challenge in the tone. "Yes," he said. "But I hope I never have to."

The chief smiled.

He was blowing this. He could feel it.

"You ever had to fire your weapon at a human being?" the chief asked.

"No, sir." He hoped he wasn’t going to be asked if he had ever been shot at. He didn’t want to go into what had happened in Mississippi.

"You ever been reprimanded?" the chief asked.

"Once."

"What for?"

Shit. Keep it simple. "Insubordination."

"Define insubordination."

Louis wet his lips. "I did something--"

"I don’t care what you did. Define the word."

"Technically, it’s a refusal to carry out a direct order by a superior."

Again, the chief shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "It’s not that simple."

What was to this guy, Louis thought.

"When an officer chooses a course not aligned with that of his commander, then that is a mutiny of sorts. And that is never acceptable." He looked at Louis. "Do you understand?"

Louis nodded.

The chief turned abruptly, going back behind his desk. He grabbed the pack of Camels and pulled one out. "These are the rules and listen good," he said. "First, never tell me smoking is bad for my health. I know that. You get a suspension the first time and I'll fire your ass the second time. Second, never enter this office without knocking. I'll suspend you the first time and fire you the second."

Copyright P.J. Parrish 2001. All rights reserved. Reprinted with the permission of the author, PJ Parrish