On Thin Ice (2 page)

A
lec put the keys in the ignition of Meggie’s silver Toyota and the engine came to life. He aimed it up toward the parking lot entrance. They needed to get out of there and he needed to figure out what was going on.

When they reached the street he pulled out his cell phone and made two calls in quick succession. The first was to his new deputy, Stu. “Someone is shooting out at the lake,” he said. “About half a mile north of the fishing shacks. Could be kids.” He knew it wasn’t kids, but he was conscious of keeping his demeanor calm. He didn’t want to show Meggie the rising panic he was beginning to feel. Megan, he corrected himself. “We need to check it out. Pick up any shell casings you can find. I’ll be there as soon as I can…” He described the precise location and urged Stu to hurry. As best as he could remember he described the truck he’d seen leaving. “Dark in color. Late model, small. I wasn’t close enough to get a make on it,” he said.

He glanced over at Megan, and everything in him wanted to protect her this time, not leave her. Not like last time.

His next call was to his trusted friend, retired Special Forces Major Steve Baylor. Steve and his wife Nori owned and managed Trail’s End Resort and Cabins. Alec often called upon Steve’s expertise and Alec could sure use his friend’s levelheaded help right about now. Steve had worked more cases with snipers and ballistics and trajectories in a month than Alec had in his whole career.

“Steve,” he said. “Someone’s shooting out on the lake. I have a woman with me. We both were caught in the cross fire.” For this call, Megan was just “a woman with him.” He couldn’t go into specific details on the phone. Even his closest friend, Steve, didn’t know about Megan, about that part of his life.

Calls complete, he closed his cell phone and put it back in his pocket. He was glad he had insisted on driving. The woman beside him, who hugged her arms around herself, was in no shape to drive. Of course she was more than “just a woman,” she was his Meggie. Even after all these years. He looked back at the road lest he let his gaze rest on her too long or spend too much time remembering and regretting.

Long-ago memories entered unbidden into his thinking as he drove. The girl he had fallen in love with had blond hair, which she wore straight and halfway
down her back. Round glasses used to cover half her face. This Megan was thinner, more studious looking than his high school Meggie. His Meggie was pretty. This Megan, who folded her gloved hands on her lap to keep them from shaking, was stunningly beautiful. She still wore his hat. He liked the way it looked on her.

Alec already knew Sophia and Jennifer had died in car accidents. His brother Bryan, even from his home in New Mexico, kept track of everyone from those days. He’d called Alec with the news.

“They look to be too coincidental to me,” Bryan had said. “Don’t they to you?”

They did, indeed.

Megan shifted in her seat. He still couldn’t believe that she was here in Whisper Lake Crossing. This time he would believe what she told him. This time he would listen to his own heart rather than the arguments and reasonings of his family.

He hadn’t hung in there when Megan’s grandmother had died and his own brother was arrested for the murder. But, more importantly, he hadn’t believed Megan.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“My office.”

“Good. That’s good.” She looked down at her hands. “We need to figure this out.” She paused. “I just want you to know that I never would have come if there was any other way. Just so you know.”

She never would have come.
Her words cut him to
the quick. After his brother was arrested, he had tried to talk to her. He had called but she never answered. She hadn’t even attended the trial. She had disappeared, and he was the only person who knew why she had left town in such a hurry. She had been pregnant, carrying his baby. It was a secret they had kept from everyone.

Their child would be almost twenty years old now. A grown-up person in his or her own right. Through the years he had thought of hiring a private investigator to find his child. He never did. He knew he didn’t deserve to be the child’s father. This was his penance for betraying Megan. He had done the only thing he could do in the ensuing years—he prayed daily for his child. He knew he had no right to ask, but another part of him reminded him that the baby had been his, too.

Megan pulled off his hat and laid it on her lap and sighed. She fingered a few loose threads and looked out the window. He drove past a few businesses, mostly closed up for the winter now. With temperatures hovering at twenty degrees below, few people were about.

Megan looked up, seemed to remember something, leaned forward and opened the glove compartment. She said, “This morning someone gave me this.” She pulled a square white card out of a manila envelope.

He blinked at the large white rectangular card that Meggie held in her hands. The front of it was embossed in cherry blossoms and hearts. He recognized it imme
diately. It was one of their wedding invitations. She turned it over to show him the back. Written in large block letters were the words,
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY NUMBER TWENTY.
Their twentieth anniversary would have been on Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day was next week.

He skidded slightly on the slick road. “Who gave you that?” he asked, quickly regaining control of the wheel.

“This morning I went into a coffee shop and someone handed it to me. It had my name on it. Meg Brooks.”

“What coffee shop?”

“The one with the big boat painted along the side.”

He nodded. “The Schooner Café. Who gave that to you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I walked into the coffee shop and a waitress came over and asked me if I was Meg Brooks. When I said yes, she handed me this envelope. She said that someone had come in a few days ago with an envelope to give me when I showed up. When I looked at her in surprise, she said that everyone who comes to Whisper Lake Crossing eventually stops in there for coffee.”

“Who knew you were coming here?” he asked.

“Nobody knew I was coming here.” She placed the invitation on her lap.

Alec shook his head slowly. What was happening here? “Describe the waitress who gave that to you.”

“She was blonde, big hair, sort of heavy, seemed talkative.”

“That would be Marlene. She owns the Schooner Café.”

He did a quick U-turn on the mostly deserted street.

“Where are we going?” she asked him.

“The Schooner,” he said. “We need to talk to Marlene. We need to figure this out.”

Megan nodded. “That’s a good idea. Something weird is happening. I want to find out what.”

They stopped at a red light. He looked long and hard at her. He wanted to protect her. This time he didn’t want to walk away from her. But this time would he be strong enough to stay?

M
egan could tell he was watching her, studying her as they sat across from each other at the Schooner Café. He ordered coffees for the two of them, even though she didn’t particularly want coffee. He hadn’t asked her. He’d gone ahead and ordered. Their waitress was a pretty, dark-haired, tall young woman whom Alec seemed to know.

“My mother’s just at the bank for a minute,” the girl said in answer to Alec’s question. She poured coffee into two white mugs and set them down on the table between them. “Would you like something to eat? Would you like menus?”

Megan shook her head and encircled the cup of coffee with her hands. It warmed them.

Alec added, “No. We just need to see your mother.”

“She should be back in a minute. You want me to call her on my cell phone?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Alec said.

Megan looked down into her coffee, stared into the swirling brown liquid.

She couldn’t meet Alec’s eyes. She was afraid of what he might ultimately ask.

She had left because of their baby. Her pregnancy was beginning to show and she vowed then that no one would ever know she was carrying Alec’s baby. She was young, unmarried and ashamed. When he left her, when he didn’t believe her, she meant to take their baby away from him forever.

She pretended to study the saltshaker. Alec took out a small notebook and began writing something down in it. For a long time they sat there thinking their own thoughts and not talking.

A few moments later the door opened and in breezed the blonde woman who had given the envelope to her this morning. She came over to their table and shrugged out of her bulky pink faux fur coat.

“Selena said you wanted to see me, Alec? Oh, hello,” she said to Megan.

“We meet again,” Megan said quietly.

“Yes. It’s nice to see you.” To Alec she said, “Selena said this was important.” There was concern in Marlene’s blue eye-shadowed eyes.

“It’s about this envelope.” He showed her. “Do you know who gave this to you?”

Marlene shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen the man before in my life. He came in here and
said that when Meg Brooks showed up to please give her this. Then he handed the envelope to me. I said, ‘I have no idea who Meg Brooks is.’ And he said that in a few days a woman would be coming in here, a stranger, and I was to ask her name and give her this letter.” She looked at Megan. “I figured it was something you were expecting.”

Megan was about to say something, and Alec said, “What did he look like?”

Marlene sighed, her eyebrows furrowing. “Well, let me think. I would say he was about your height, Alec. Give or take. Medium build. Really dark hair. I remember that. Black and thick.”

“Beard? Clean shaven?”

“I don’t remember a beard. So, probably clean shaven. I like a beard on a man. I would have remembered a beard.”

“Dark complexion?”

“I really don’t remember. Not black. But not swarthy.”

“Didn’t you think the whole thing was kind of odd?”

“I thought it was odd to begin with, but after a while I really didn’t give it much thought. I figured Meg Brooks must be a relative or something.” Marlene crossed her arms over her sizable bosom and nodded. “Is this important?”

“It might be. Did he say where he was staying in town?”

“I got the impression that he wasn’t staying anywhere in town, that he was just passing through.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“I don’t know. Just the way he seemed, all in a hurry or something. And he seemed nice enough, so I took the envelope and said, ‘I can’t promise anything, but sure.’ Then this morning Meg Brooks in the flesh shows up.” She looked down at Megan.

“Did this black-haired man tell you what Meg Brooks was supposed to look like?”

Marlene shook her head. “That’s the strange part. When I asked him this, he just shook his head and said that I would know her when I saw her and how many people come into Whisper Lake Crossing in the middle of winter anyway.”

“That’s what he said?”

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Alec asked.

“Call you about what?”

“And you didn’t think this whole thing was strange?”

“I thought it was plenty strange, but a lot of plenty strange things happen around here and I don’t go to the sheriff’s office with every little strange thing, Alec. This just seemed an innocent thing. Someone dropping off a letter for someone who would be coming by later.”

“When did this happen?”

“Let me think.” She put her hand to her forehead. “The day before last. Yes. That’s what it was. In the morning.”

Alec scribbled something in his book. He looked up. “Marlene, if that guy comes back, please contact me immediately.”

“Okay.” Marlene saluted him. If the situation hadn’t been so grave, Megan would have laughed out loud.

Later at the sheriff’s office, Megan was formally introduced to his office assistant, Denise, who was the woman Megan had spoken to earlier. She was a middle-aged, comfortable-looking woman.

“Stu got your call, Alec. What’s going on?” Denise asked.

“Some maniac was out there on the lake shooting.”

Denise looked from one to the other. Without explaining who Megan was, Alec ushered her past two yellow chairs in the waiting room and into his office.

Denise called after him. “Your mail’s on your desk, Alec.”

“Thanks,” he said as he closed the door behind them.

His was a modest square office, very efficient, very plain. It had one desk and two chairs. There were few touches of home. No family photos that she could see. On the wall was a picture of a sailboat. He pushed the small stack of mail aside and offered Megan a chair.

At the bottom of his stack of mail there was a shoe box, which was wrapped in brown paper. Something about it seemed to pique his interest. He pulled it out from the stack and looked at it. It seemed to be secured all around with thick layers of packing tape.

He turned it over, examined it, dropped it on the desk, and for the second time that day he lunged for Megan and said, “Out! Now!”

He opened his door, ushered her through it quickly, calling to Denise as he did so.

“Anyone else in the building?”

“Alec, what’s up?”

“We have to get everyone out now. I think somebody just sent us a bomb!”

Ten minutes later, Megan found herself two blocks from the sheriff’s office, sitting on a damask-covered, spindly chair in Denise’s kitchen, surrounded by bobbleheads and dolls.

“Here,” Denise said. “Let me move these dolls at least. I collect them, make and sew clothes for them. I’m getting ready for a show. But they get a bit overwhelming at times.”

Megan barely heard. She had no choice but to sit here and drink Denise’s burnt instant coffee and think about the fact that somebody wanted her dead.

When Alec finally arrived, his expression was grim. Both women looked at him expectantly.

“It wasn’t a bomb,” he said.

“Well, thank the good Lord for that!” Denise placed a hand on her chest.

“Yes. We can be thankful for that,” he said.

“What was it, then?” Megan asked.

Instead of answering, he said, “Denise, may I speak with Megan alone? Can we use your parlor?”

“Certainly, Alec. Would you like coffee? We were just enjoying a cup.”

“Thanks Denise. That would be great.”

Sill unsmiling, Alec led Megan into a small, windowed room which, like the kitchen, was entirely populated with dolls. A bald-headed doll sneered and bobbed toward her as they entered.

Alec plucked two cloth dolls with pinched faces from a chair and sat down. She sat in the chair opposite him. She turned the grinning bobblehead away. Something about it made her uncomfortable. As she did this, Alec piped up, “I see you’ve met Denise’s dolls.”

“There are sure a lot of them.”

They both smiled a bit. Obviously, Alec had said this to lighten the mood. It didn’t last long.

“If it wasn’t a bomb, then what was it?” Megan asked.

From inside his jacket he took out a clear plastic bag and laid it on the coffee table next to a china doll with pink round circles for cheeks. It was the wedding invitation. She picked up the plastic bag, turned it over and read again.
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY NUMBER TWENTY.
Why was he showing her the card she had received at the café? She already knew this card all too well.

“This card was in the box that came to me.”

“Two cards?” she asked.

“Yes, two cards. The writing on the back of both of them appears to have been photocopied. They’re identical. We’re sending them both to the forensics lab.”

“And you think there’s a connection between these cards and the person who was shooting at us on the lake, plus the deaths of Sophia and Jennifer?”

He nodded. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

She shuddered and pulled her sweater tightly around her.

Alec took a notebook and pen out of his breast pocket and began to write. He was quiet for a few minutes. The only sound was the rhythmic clanging of a clock on the mantel. Megan’s mouth felt dry.

He looked at her for a few more moments and then asked, “Where is it that you live now?”

“Baltimore.”

“What do you do there?”

“I’m a Web designer.” He wrote the answers carefully in his coil-bound notebook. She knew his handwriting; his tall, compact letters. She had received love letters in that careful script. She had gotten rid of all of them. Back when she had burned her wedding dress and ribbons and decorations and candles, those love letters were in the same pile.

“Do you work for a company?”

“Alec, are you questioning me? Interrogating me?”

A look of surprise crossed his face. “Yes, Megan. I want to get to the bottom of this.” He smiled at her.

This bothered her and she didn’t know why. She looked away and felt slightly insulted. She was not some suspect. She was personally involved in the case. She found herself retreating from his gentle smile.

He was a cop, trained to get information and confessions from suspects by any means possible. If that meant cops had to pretend to have feelings they didn’t possess, they would. And for the briefest of moments she’d actually thought he was showing her kindness. She needed to be on her guard.

“I’m not at fault,” she said, sitting stiffly in her chair. “Something is happening to me and I’m not the cause of it.”

His voice was soft. “I never said you were. I’m just trying to get a handle on things. This is the only way I know how to work, by asking questions.” He put his pen down. “I’m sure you’ve thought about this. Do you know of anyone who might want to do this to you? Maybe from your work?”

“I have dozens of clients, most of whom I’ve never even met.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“That’s the way I work, Alec. I am alone.”

“I can’t imagine you working in a job that doesn’t include people….”

“I told you. I’ve changed. I could ask you the same question. Is there anyone
you
know who would want to do this to us? Besides, why would one of my clients
target you? I’ve never told anyone about you. No one knows my history.”

He took a breath and looked down at his notebook. If her words stung, that’s what she wanted.

She sighed. This was getting them nowhere. “In answer to your question.” She paused. “After the trial I went to Baltimore to live with my godmother, a close friend and college roommate of my mother’s. Her name is Eunice Schneider. She came into my life after my grandmother died. She offered a place for me to stay in Baltimore. I went. I had no place else to go. She was good to me. I went to school there, took a graphic design course. For the past ten years I’ve been designing Web sites. I do okay for myself. I lead a quiet life.”

He said, “So, we’re looking at someone from before…”

“From before what?” she asked.

“From before our lives now. It may be painful, but I think we’re going to have to go back to the early days, when we were…together. Whoever is doing this is obviously from…then.”

She could tell it was hard for him to say the words, but she too realized it had to be someone from those days. Isn’t that why she had come here? After she had gone over and over Sophia’s and Jennifer’s deaths in her mind, had spent many sleepless nights in Baltimore wondering if she might be the next target, she had decided to come and talk to Alec.

“Someone from before,” she said. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“We begin at the beginning.”

“Right.”

He was looking at her, his expression so tender, so questioning. She knew. She knew that he wanted to ask about their child.

And she wasn’t ready to tell him about that. Not yet.