Thin Ice (22 page)

It suited me fine to be spending the weekend with a kid instead of cheering on the hometown team in the state’s favorite blood sport. Lately I’d felt like I’d all but disappeared from high school. Oh, I showed up daily and I was even doing the best work in years. But that afternoon as I sat through the second pep fest in two weeks, I realized that the appeal of high-school life eluded me. The games, the rah-rah convocations, the raucous playfulness in the cafeteria—what a waste. More often than not I’d sit alone in the lunchroom, looking at the kids I’d known since first grade and wondering, Who
are
these people?

Yup, Hannah was plenty good company.

She added still more topping to her ice cream. I frowned. “You’ve used five different spoons so far.”

“You don’t want me to use them again after I licked. You said so. Should we get our pajamas on before we watch the movie?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got new ones. Mom made them.”

“She sews?”

“Of course. They have baseballs and gloves on them. I get to stay the whole weekend, right?”

“Right.” Which would mean about three more trips to the video store and at least one more run for groceries. I’d seriously underestimated the appetite of the child.

“If I don’t have to go home until Sunday, can we go to the Mall of America tomorrow?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

Why indeed? After all, I’d driven to Canada on a whim. “I made a promise to someone that I wouldn’t go anywhere without asking her. She’s out of town until Sunday.”

Hannah set down her spoon. “You have your own car and your own house and you need
permission
?”

“Yes.” She shook her head sorrowfully, and together, as we ate our sundaes, we contemplated the injustice.

*

I got permission.

“What a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Drummond said. “And how lovely that you and Hannah are getting so close.”

“She’s an okay kid,” I said. “May I have more of that pot roast?” Mr. Drummond handed the platter to me, passing it right across Kady, who didn’t seem to notice the beef under her nose.

“Anyone want to come along?” I looked right at her. “Please?”

“Not me,” said Jean, sitting across the table. “I intend to do some serious sleeping this weekend. Besides, I hate the place. Crass commercialism, the worst of America all under one roof. Noisy, expensive, crowded, artificial. Should I go on?”

“No, thanks,” Kady said. “To both of you.” She rose. “I set the table. Someone else can clean up.” She left the room without having said a direct word to me the whole meal.

Well, I’d tried.

CHAPTER 21

I was pink-slipped in algebra again, “Not another session with the shrink,” I muttered.

“I’ve been so good and obedient, Mrs. Rutledge,” I blurted as soon as I entered her office. “I haven’t put up a flyer in a couple of weeks, I haven’t sneaked into Duluth, and I only call the detective every other day.” Of course, I’d sabotaged a budding romance and a lifelong friendship, but she didn’t have to know all that. She motioned me to a chair and closed the door.

Closed door, grim counselor. This was bad. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Al Walker called me. He and John Abrahms are on their way to— Oh, Arden, he asked me to pull you out of class and tell you personally. Some men were fishing close to where the Gogebic runs into Lake Superior. With all this warm weather we’ve had the past few days, the river is running hard, even under the ice cover.”

“What are you saying? Where have John and Al gone?”

She twisted the rings on her left hand. “County morgue in Ashland. The fishermen found a body in the water.”

*

She called Kady and Jean out of their classes to take me home. Jean shouldered my book bag and Kady handed me my jacket after removing the car keys from a pocket. “I’ll drive,” she said.

She not only drove but guided me out of the car and into her kitchen, made me tea, called her mother and father with the news, put together a plate of nutritious munchies, and left a message for Al at the police station that I could be reached at her house. Not once did she say, “I told you so.”

The three of us sat together on the long davenport and waited for something. Kady on my right, Jean on the left, both turned toward me. I faced the wall across the room, looking at their family pictures, all arranged in a circle around a large photo of Mr. and Mrs. D. on their wedding day. Jean reached under a cushion and pulled out three beanbags; they had practice gear stashed in every room. She tossed them a few times, then sent one over my head to her sister, who grabbed it with an angry slash and put it away. “Not now,” Kady said sharply.

I folded my hands and spent a few minutes studying the neat way fingers fit together. Nothing neat about my nails, though. Fix-up time. Maybe a new color. Red? Pearl? Something glittery? Black might be suitable.

“I guess this is it,” I said. My first words since leaving school. “Yes,” said Kady.

“At least we know what the body will look like, huh?”

“That was awful of me,” said Kady. “I can’t believe I did it.”

“Did what?” asked Jean.

“You meant to be helpful,” I said.

“I meant to shake you awake. I should have known it would happen soon enough.”

“Am I included in this conversation?” Jean asked.

“You didn’t keep them, did you?”

“Keep what, or don’t I get to know?” Jean asked.

“I made a fire and burned them in the sink.”

Jean held her hands in front of her face and turned them from side to side. “Gosh, I don’t seem to be invisible.”

Kady tossed the beanbag back, hitting her hard on the shoulder. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Arden, please tell!”

“I’ll tell,” Kady said. “I downloaded some pictures from a medical library and gave them to Arden. Drowned bodies.”

Jean hugged an embroidered throw pillow. “That’s sick.”

“I just felt so frustrated, Arden, that you were ignoring the truth.” I nodded. “Can’t ignore it now. So what do I do? I’ve never planned a funeral.”

“Mom and Dad will help.”

“Oh, girls,” Jean said, “aren’t we forgetting one small thing?”

“What?” I asked.

“No one has actually said the body was identified. What if it’s not him?”

*

Al and John arrived while we were eating supper. No one had eaten much, probably because of the prevailing mood, or maybe it was the heavy dose of hot sauce Jean had mixed into the scrambled eggs.

I was first to the door after the bell rang. The guys stood there, tired and grim. I motioned them in. Who would speak first?

Al unzipped his jacket “It wasn’t Scott.”

John walked in and nodded to the Drummonds, who had clustered behind me. He collapsed on a chair. “Worst thing I’ve ever had to do. I’ve never been to the morgue before. God, Arden, I hope you’re right. I hope he is alive. I hope he doesn’t look like that. You have no idea.”

Kady and I exchanged glances.

“Yes, she does,” Jean muttered.

Some internal Betty Crocker alarm went off in Mrs. D. and she slipped away to the kitchen. Probably whipping up some nonspicy eggs for the guys.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” said Al. “Someone who was in the water a lot longer than Scott. Couple of sea kayakers disappeared last summer. Maybe it was one of those guys.”

“How did you know it wasn’t Scott?” I asked.

“It was so battered,” said John, more to himself than us. “There was nothing human about it. There wasn’t even a face.” The twins simultaneously crossed arms and flinched.

“This body was a male Caucasian,” Al said to me, “and it washed up close to the mouth of the Gogebic, so the deputies up there right away thought of Scott. This person, though, was at least six feet tall. Lots of things happen to a corpse in water, but it doesn’t grow six inches.”

Hope was renewed, but it was hard not to think that the waiting would soon be over for someone else.

CHAPTER 22

Do I look wonderful?” Hannah spun around, modeling a new haircut and sweater. Her hand swiped across the table in their kitchen, sending a mug wobbling toward the edge. Her mother lunged and made the rescue.

“You do. Quite beautiful. Who made the sweater?”

“Mom. I picked the yarn. Can we go now? You’ve talked so long.” Claire and I exchanged smiles; I’d been in their kitchen for maybe five minutes.

“Words cannot express my gratitude,” Claire said. “Ever since Scott mentioned to her that they might go to the Mall, she’s been anxious. I went once, years ago, and have no desire to do so ever again. So I’m grateful, but I wish you’d let me pay for it.”

“My treat, don’t argue. It’s you and me, kiddo,” I said to Hannah. “I guess we’re the only people in Penokee who know how to have fun.”

“Mom doesn’t. She’s working. They’re making bird feeders today.”

I turned to Claire and raised my eyebrows.

“The last day of an Elderhostel. We’re snowshoeing, bird watching, and then making feeders. Twenty senior citizens and me.”

I grinned. “Good thing you’ve got that master’s degree in biology.”

“Don’t wait up,” Hannah shouted as she pushed open the door.

“Ha,” I said. “We’ll be home by eight.”

Hannah waved an envelope in my face as I buckled my seat belt. “Look what I got,” she said.

“I can’t look because you’ll poke my eyes out. Put that down. What is it?”

“I got a card from my dad yesterday. Last weekend I called him and told him we were going to the megamall today. That was before they found that body. I heard Mom talking to Al about it. If it was Scott’s body would we be going?”

“Probably not.”

“Then I’m glad it wasn’t him. I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she wished it was him. She wished it was all over, she said.”

I looked over my shoulder as we backed up onto the snow-packed road. “Dad never writes letters. He’s always too busy. He’s a neur-o-surgeon.” She said the long word carefully. “He lives in Phoenix. He sent this card. I got it yesterday.” She pulled the card out and opened it. “‘Have fun, sweetheart,’” she read slowly.

“That’s nice.”

“There’s something else,” she said. She pulled out a bill and waved it in the air. “A hundred dollars.”

I shifted and hit the gas. “Cool.”

“Mom gets so mad when he sends me big money.”

“She does?” Keep talking, kid. I want to know everything.

“We better not tell her, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So let’s spend it all.”

* * *

It’s not hard to blow a hundred bucks at the megamall. For starters, hitting all the rides three or four times makes a nice dent in the cash. It’s the biggest mall in the country, maybe the world, and it was packed with Saturday shoppers, mostly pale Midwesterners needing an escape from the long winter. And as always, there were quite a few people who came from even farther away. I heard what I think was German, French, and Spanish and I saw plenty of Japanese couples, all of whom seemed to be on some sort of honeymoon special.

Lines moved slowly in Camp Snoopy, the indoor amusement park. We had long waits for the roller coaster and the other good rides. Hannah amused herself by working on a small handheld puzzle she’d bought at a toy store. I looked for bald heads. This wasn’t a conscious act, just habit.

By midaftemoon I was beat. Three roller-coaster rides, four log-chute drops, three Mystery Mine rides, and miles of walking had taken a toll. We found an empty bench on the third floor and collapsed. Hannah opened her wallet and counted. “Seven dollars and thirty-five cents.”

I’d dropped forty, which isn’t small change, but she’d spent over ninety-two dollars in a few hours. Was that some sort of a record? Probably not, but pretty good for a six-year-old.

“Better leave enough for a present for your mom,” I advised.

A bald biker dude in head-to-toe black leather strolled by, carrying three bags from Victoria’s Secret. Gifts, or for his own wardrobe? I laughed at the thought that maybe my brother had left home to go live like that guy.

“What’s funny?” Hannah asked.

“Nothing.”

She followed my gaze and noticed the biker. “You shouldn’t laugh at people.”

“Hannah,” I said, putting my arm around her, “it’s a good thing I like you. Otherwise, I’d think you were pretty obnoxious.”

A mother of twin infants was getting frustrated trying to give her babies a snack as she sat on a narrow ledge around some fake greenery. I hauled Hannah up and signaled to the mother, letting her know she could have the bench. She moved over gratefully.

Hannah led me to the escalators and we rode down two levels. The cacophony of mall music, rattling roller coaster, and thousands of jabbering people made talking impossible. She window-shopped, I dragged along. “What are you doing?” she asked at one point when I stood still and she walked on, her hand slipping out of mine.

“Nothing, just looking,” I said. Couldn’t help it. Reflex, I guess. This was the busiest place I’d been to since he’d disappeared. Everywhere I turned, I saw guys who were the right height or had the same coloring. Guys alone, with friends, with children. For the millionth time since February, I wondered, Where is he? What is he doing? Is he alone?