His Frozen Heart (13 page)

I swung my heavy door open and crawled
inside the still warm car. I turned the key in the ignition and the
car instantly responded with its throaty rumble. Just as I was
ready to pull away from the curb, I saw a finger poking through the
bullet hole in my windshield, and I screamed like a little girl.
What was he – an Olympic sprinter? How the heck did he get to my
car so fast?

Dave motioned for me to roll my window
down. This was preferable to getting out of the car. I rolled it
down a couple turns as I heard his disappointed voice say, “I
thought this was a social call. Sorry. I can replace your
windshield if you want.”

My windshield? That was the least of
my worries right now. Fear gripped me as I considered he might be
partly responsible for putting the hole in it to begin with. I
stammered, “It’s okay, I’ll take it to a glass place
later.”

Dave looked confused. He stood beside
my car in the freezing cold wearing a thin black hoody over a gray
t-shirt and jeans. I bet if I could see his feet through my car’s
door, he would be wearing scuffed up black motorcycle boots, too.
Dave squatted down next to my car, peering in through my partially
rolled down window, and asked, “So, was this a social call or
business?” With his face just inches from mine, my breath hitched.
Dave’s looks had changed dramatically since high school. His hair
was styled, trimmed neatly, his face was freshly shaven, and his
deep brown eyes held mine. His cologne invited me to roll my window
down further.

Before my hormones could let me do
something really stupid, I reminded myself that there was a good
chance he was somehow involved with what had happened last night. I
put my hormones in check and stopped surveying him.

Dave’s voice sounded different, not
the scared kid I’d forced to talk to me in high school, but a man.
When I looked at his face, his eyes were staring back into mine. I
couldn’t remember him ever holding my gaze for any length of time,
and it was a full ten seconds before I realized I was the stalker
watching him. I stammered, “Social, sort of. It’s not important. I
need to go.” I pressed the clutch and put the car into gear, ready
to pull away.

In a pleading voice, Dave said, “Come
on, five minutes. I’ll make hot chocolate.” He opened my car door
in a gentlemanly way, trying to coax me out of the car.

I forced a smile, not wanting to give
away just how frightened I was to be here. There was no one else
that I could see inside. Going in there with him would be a
mistake. Anything could happen. For all I knew, he had a wood
chipper out back to dispose of bodies on the premises.

I tried to tug the door closed from
his hand, when he asked, “What, you got something against hot
chocolate?” I was prepared to snarl in his direction when I saw he
had the brightest, widest smile I’d ever seen him wear. Dave Brewer
knew how to smile? Even when I’d forced him to talk to me in high
school, no matter how funny the story was I was telling him, he
barely ever smirked. Here, now, it looked like he was practicing
for a Crest commercial.

It disarmed me. Not just his smile,
but his choice of words – the same thing I had said to him the day
he told me he was going to restore the outside of my car. I
couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Nothing against hot
chocolate; I just forgot I had to be somewhere. I’m
late.”

Still holding my door open, peering
down at me he offered, “If you’re already late, what’s another five
minutes?”

I didn’t know what to do.
My mind was telling me to get out of here, but something
about
this
Dave in
front of me – was a draw. All those times I’d only ever seen his
guarded shell, I was sure, somewhere deep down, this Dave existed.
He looked and acted like a different person, as if he finally
decided he wanted to be a part of the human race.

I caved, cutting the ignition. “Five
minutes, then I have to go.” I grabbed my phone and put it in my
pocket, so it would be at the ready if I needed it.

I followed Dave inside a tiny
reception area which smelled like lemons. The inside was a stark
contrast to the dilapidated exterior. Shiny white floors glared up
at me from below, without a speck of dust on them. The smell of
lemon permeated the air, not the light lemony scent from an air
freshener, but powerful lemon from an industrial cleaner. On the
desk was a fine leather appointment book, opened to today’s date
with very neat handwriting annotating appointments sporadically
throughout the day. A two burner coffee pot set in the corner, one
with hot water and one patiently waiting for the morning coffee to
be brewed.

Dave took two white mugs from a cup
tree and set them on a white marble countertop by the brewer. He
ripped open a couple packages of instant hot chocolate, added the
water and stirred them, then handed a cup to me. “I don’t have any
toast to offer you, but there are some fresh bagels and cream
cheese in the refrigerator.”

My stomach lurched at his offer, my
last meal having been the dried up chicken wings at Bank Shot. I
shook my head to decline, but he took one out, ripped it in half
and handed a piece to me. The toast reference meant he must have
been having the same flashback I’d had on my drive over. I tore a
piece of the bagel off and let it melt in my mouth.

As I looked around, I wasn’t sure what
to make of the immaculately clean showroom. Any garage I had ever
been to had been – grungy. “Um, what kind of garage is
this?”

“
Restorations mainly.
Sometimes I do a little repair, but most of the cars that come
through here are on their last leg. It’s my job to get them off
life support and back to their glory days.”

“
This place is
yours?”

“
Yeah, well, mostly. I have
a silent partner who helped me get it off the ground.”

I tensed when I remembered Teddy had
called Dave “Boss” last night. I could guess who his silent partner
might be as my fingers began shaking in earnest. I wrapped them
more tightly around the mug to try to calm them, and ended up
spilling some hot chocolate onto the pristine floor. “I’m sorry.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Dave grabbed a napkin near the
brewer and wiped up my dribbles on the floor.

I set the mug down. My fingers
absently traced the smooth surface of the marble countertop, as I
plied for more information. I wondered if he would own up to who
his silent partner was. “Anyone I know?”

Dave’s smile stretched across his
face, “The only person other than you who ever gave me more than a
dirty look in high school.”

His answer caught me off guard.
Confused, I asked, “Kravitz?”

“
Yeah, he helps me out on
the weekends and when there are breaks during the school year,
sometimes even on snow days.”

My fingers seemed to like his answer
and picked the mug back up. I brought the hot chocolate to my lips.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had had a cup. It was sort of a
luxury item; when it came to groceries, Libby and I could rarely
afford to buy anything like this. He interrupted my silent pity
party by setting his mug on the counter. Dave motioned for me to
take a seat in the leather chair behind the desk and perched
himself on the desk next to me. “So, what are you doing these days?
College?”

“
Yes. Here in town.” Until
he mentioned it, I’d completely blown off the fact that I had
school today. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since the attack
last night at the station. If necessary I could bring in a copy of
the newspaper tomorrow. No way would my professors give me a hard
time for skipping today.

He leaned back against the wall and
confessed, “I had always pictured you as a sorority girl. I bet you
live on campus and are the life of all the parties.”

Was that a slam? Trying not to take
offense, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dave wrapped his fingers around his
mug innocently, “Oh, come on. With your looks and personality,
you’re bound to be pretty popular on campus.”

“
Okay, I’m not sure if I
should be offended or thanking you for a compliment.”

Another bright smile formed when he
said, “Say thank-you.” For the first time since I walked in, Dave’s
eyes left mine. He stood up from the counter, walked to the sink,
washed then dried his cup, and hung it back on the cup tree. As I
watched him, I wondered if he had grown since high school, then it
hit me: he looked taller because he was standing up straight. How
had I never noticed how tall he was? He was well over six feet.
While I was ogling him, he caught me off guard as he confessed
sheepishly, “I always had the biggest crush on you.”

Who was this guy? What happened to the
introverted loner who couldn’t even make eye contact with me? I
laughed, “A crush? You’re not serious.”

He turned and looked at me, his voice
sincere, “I am serious. You were out of my league back then.” His
smile wavered when he added, “You still are.”

The warmth of a blush spread on my
cheeks – not the reaction I would have expected. “I don’t know. I
don’t own my own business or anything. You look like you’re doing
okay for yourself. What else have you been doing since
graduation?”

His cheeks darkened as his eyes hit
the floor. “Not much. Working mainly. I’ve gone to the high school
a few times to help one of Kravitz’s students. He’s got one kid who
reminds me a lot of me. He’s laser focused on cars, but doesn’t
have the most supportive home life. He was in the same spot as I
was: plenty of talent, no money. I found an old Charger that he’s
restoring now.”

“
That’s pretty cool of you.
Is it for one of your customers?”

“
No. I rescued it from a
farmer’s barn and hadn’t gotten around to the restoration. When I
found it, it had been buried under a pile of rusty equipment, bird
droppings, and two decades worth of dust. The kid loves it. He
doesn’t know it, but I’m signing the title over to him as a
graduation present.”

“
Wow, that’s pretty awesome
of you.”

“
I remember how hard it was
to give you your Chevelle back when I was done. I’d hate to take
the Charger away from him. He’s poured his heart into
it.”

Suddenly I felt bad. He’d never told
me he was attached to my car. He had treated it like a means to an
end. He needed it to enroll in Kravitz’s classes. “You never said
anything.”

Dave grinned. “Well, the car was a big
reason for me following you around in high school. It wasn’t the
only reason, but it was a big one. I kept secretly hoping it’d
break down so I’d have a reason to see you after we graduated. I
guess I did too good of a job restoring it.” His mischievous grin
grew, “Enough about me. Do you want me to order you a new
windshield, or what?”

Was he flirting with me? I’d been on
two dates in the last six months – both sucked. Remembering why I
had come, I stammered, “Um, no. This was a social call.” His smile
grew in front of me. Neither of us spoke for a minute, so I
answered one of his earlier questions. “I’m not in a sorority. I
never pledged.”

“
Why not? I thought that
was part of the whole college experience.”

“
Only for the girls who
have more money and time on their hands than I do. My college
experience consists of a full class load and three
jobs.”

Dave cocked his head to the side, “You
aren’t still living with your parents?”

I laughed, “No, they moved
away.”

He had the same reaction everyone did
when he asked skeptically, “To where?”

“
Dad got a job in New
Mexico a few days after I graduated. My older sisters were already
out of the house, so they didn’t waste time downsizing once they
figured I could fend for myself.”

“
So, you live in the
dorms?”

“
No, it was actually
cheaper to stay in the house and get a roommate. My parents are my
landlords. If rent is late, not only do I get the threat to be
evicted, I get the added, ‘We’re so disappointed in you’ speech.
You remember Libby?”

Dave scowled, “How could I forget? She
coined the name ‘loner guy’ for me. That probably got printed in
our yearbook instead of my name. She was never much of a
fan.”

My stomach cinched. Could he have been
harboring bad feelings toward Libby all this time? Is that why she
was in a hospital right now? I was having a tough time wrestling
with the two Daves: the quiet one who preferred to be left alone in
high school and the successful charismatic one standing before me
now.

The fear I had felt outside began
ebbing back. He was asking a lot of questions. Too many questions.
It was my turn. Glancing at the door, I had a clear shot at it if I
needed to bolt. I needed answers. “Look, this has been fun catching
up, but I need to ask you about Teddy.”

Confused, Dave answered, “I don’t know
a Teddy.”

“
The one from last night at
Bank Shot?”

His shoulders arched as his perplexed
look deepened, “I was here last night.”

“
Working?”

“
No. The shop closes at
five, but I have an apartment upstairs.”

“
I talked to you last night
at Bank Shot. You stuck up for Libby when Teddy threw his money at
her.”