Under the Ice

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Although Shelby wasn’t wearing snow pants, she rolled around in the snow with him. In minutes, her jeans were soaked. But she didn’t seem to mind. After a few breathless minutes of playing, she stood up and brushed herself off. “You guys are nuts,” she said. “And now I’ve gotta change.”

  Johnny stared after her when she waltzed back to the house. He seemed pleasantly perplexed. “Opa?”

  “Mmm,” I said, digging around my wet collar with one finger.

  “Shelby was nice.”

  “Yeah. She was.”

  “Will she be like that again?” He stared after her with wide eyes.

  “I wouldn’t count on it, pal.”

  He looked up at me. “How come?”

  I chuckled. “She’s a teenager, buddy.”

  He nodded sagely, then started to pack more snow into the block shape we’d used to build the fort.

  “C’mon, Opa. We need more rooms.”

  Chapter 33

  Freddie called Johnny in for lunch at noon. He scrambled toward the porch as if I didn’t exist anymore, so loud was the grumbling in his stomach.

  I shrugged and smiled, picking up the toys we used to construct the elaborate fort.

  A flash of light blinked at the edge of the woods.

  Did I see it right? Or had I imagined it?

  I scanned the horizon. Nothing. I shaded my eyes and looked again. It blinked again from the corner of the woods across the field on the far side of the barn.

  Freddie hooked Max to his run on the porch. He streaked toward me, barking hysterically in the direction of the light.

  “What is it, boy?”

  He strained and jerked at the run, nearly strangling himself. I ran to the porch, grabbed his leash from inside the door, raced back to him, snapping it onto his collar. “Come on, boy. Show me.”

  I unhooked him from the run and he took off like a shot, nose to the ground. I sprinted behind him.

  What the heck had I seen? It certainly wasn’t an animal. It was metallic. Could it have been the reflection of sunlight on glass?

  Max struggled through the snow, whining. He stopped for a minute to examine a disturbed section in the field. A deer had pawed through the snow to reach the alfalfa below. Max quickly dismissed it and dashed toward the woods.

  The wind freshened, shooting cumulus clouds across the sky in fast-forward motion. The temperature suddenly dropped, and I shivered. Spruce trees on the edge of the woods swayed and moaned in the stiff breeze.

  I huffed and puffed behind Max, running out of air before we reached the tree line. He circled me and pulled at the leash, almost slipping out of his collar.

  “Hold on, boy. Just hold on,” I said, catching my breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  We reached the edge of the field and ducked low under the branches of fir trees. The sweet scent of white pine drifted on the cold air.

  Max pulled ahead in a hysterical frenzy. He rooted around in the snow near the trunk of the largest pine in the stand. I bent over and examined the ground where he sniffed.

  Cigarette butts.

  Max unearthed something else.

  Binoculars. Hastily tossed to the ground.

  I picked them up.

  Still warm.

  Max strained at the leash, dragging me deeper into the woods. We followed a ragged trail through the snow. I scanned the woods ahead of us, searching for movement.

  It had to be Greg.

  Was he spying on us? Watching Shelby while she played with Johnny and me?

  The thought made my blood run cold.

  Max and I trotted through the woods for another twenty minutes, following the trail. When we reached a pull off on Sullivan Hill Road, tire tracks showed where his car had recently been parked. A whiff of exhaust lingered in the air.

  I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Maddy’s number.

  “Hello?” Maddy sang into the phone.

  “Maddy. It’s Gus. Put Joe on.”

  “Well, Hello to you, too, Professor. Nice way to talk to your mother-in-law.”

  “Sorry. I really need to talk to him.”

  My tone sobered her. She calmed down. “He’s not really up to talking today. He’s lying down right now. We had an outing today. Went out to the car and sat inside. I drove him to the post office and back. He waited in the car. It took everything out of him. Just wiped him out.”

  My shoulders fell. “Oh. Okay. Well, tell him I called. He can reach me on my cell. It’s important.”

  “I will. Is everything okay?”

  I decided not to sugar coat it. “No. It’s not. I think Greg’s staking out our property.”

  She sucked in her breath. Her voice shook with cold anger. “They let that bastard out?”

  “I’m afraid so. He wants to see Shelby.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  I hesitated. “Help Joe get better. As quickly as possible. We need him, Maddy.”

  “I’m doing the best I can. I’ll talk to him as soon as he’s up. Maybe I can bring him over to your place.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it,” she said somberly.

  Chapter 34

  Maddy surprised me, and showed up with Joe at three-thirty. The dinner crowd was due at five. I’d have time to discuss the whole Greg thing with him before they descended on us. Bistro white chili simmered in an oversized fry pan on the stove, and a piquant aroma wafted through the kitchen. Freshly washed salad crisped in the refrigerator. Tonight would be simple fare. For dessert, I planned to serve vanilla bean ice cream topped with a sauce made from store-bought raspberries.

  I opened the kitchen door for Maddy and Joe, welcoming them inside.

  Joe wore dark glasses and his sweatshirt hood was pulled tight around his face, as if to ward off the world. He leaned heavily on Maddy’s arm, stopped, and swayed. He went down on one knee halfway to the porch and covered his face with his hand.

  I ran outside to help.

  Sweat poured off him. “Everything’s spinning,” he said.

  I reached down to help him up, but he wobbled a bit, touching the snow beneath his knee as if it would ground him. I put one hand on his shoulder and the other beneath his upper arm. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you inside.”

  Joe shook his head as if to clear it, scrunched his eyes shut, and finally rose on unsteady legs.

  “Maybe if I keep my eyes closed I won’t get dizzy.” He shuffled along in the snow toward the porch.

  “Up one step, honey,” Maddy cooed. “There you go, big fella. That’s it. One more now.”

  We coaxed the blind man up the stairs and into the warm kitchen. He opened his eyes and gave a weak smile. “Geez, that was fun. Let’s do it again.”

  Before we could laugh at his little joke, he lost his balance and collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs. His sunglasses fell off, and I bent down to pick them up.

  “Thanks,” he said in a hoarse voice. Perspiration ran down his temples, cheeks, and onto his shirt collar. His red-rimmed eyes leapt back and forth in a wild, frightened dance.

  After a few minutes, his breathing slowed and he seemed to collect himself. “I heard you need me, Gus. That’s why I came.”

  My heart swelled. “I really do. Thanks, buddy.”

  The rest of the family was upstairs napping, doing homework, or resting. It was a perfect time for our discussion.

  “Gus? Can I speak with you?” Maddy’s eyes beseeched me. “It’s about work.”

  “Sure, Maddy. In here?” I motioned to the great room, wondering what about work could upset her. In the past few decades, she’d never let work upset her.

  We walked into the other room. She pulled me to the far side and lowered her voice, leaning in close to me. Her perfume almost choked me. “I can’t leave him alone tomorrow. I’m gonna have to take some time off.”

  I glanced toward the kitchen. “I’ll put you in for a leave of absence and hire someone from the pool to come over to fill in. Someone
’s gotta drive him to that day program at the hospital, anyway, right?”

  She nodded, and tears welled in her eyes. “Exactly.”

  “Might as well be you. You’re the one he trusts.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief and gave me a quick hug. “Thank you. Now I can concentrate on getting my man better. That’s all that matters.”

  Her face glimmered with worry and affection. She swiped at the tears in her eyes. “I’m really nuts about him.”

  “I know. You two are perfect together.”

  We walked back to the kitchen. Joe seemed steadier. He rose and removed his coat. “Okay, Gus. Let’s get cracking.”

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  “Nah. I’m full up on the stuff. Got any milk? Maddy makes a mean love potion.”

  “Love potion?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. She heats it up, adds cinnamon and sugar to the milk. It’s kinda like a warm vanilla milkshake. Really soothing.”

  I chuckled, because it sounded a little bit like what Siegfried had made us the other night. The concoction his mother had called her “mug of love.”

  “I’ll make it for you, Sweetcakes,” Maddy said. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

  He ducked down to peck her cheek. “Thanks, Pooky. You’re a genius in the kitchen.”

  Pooky? I mouthed the word to myself and grinned. “You want some wine, Maddy?”

  She looked at me gratefully. “Oh, God. Yes, please.” With a start, she flashed an uncomfortable look at Joe. “Sorry, honey. Do you mind?”

  “Hell, no,” Joe said. “Haven’t had a drop in years. You two go right ahead.”

  I took down two wine glasses and a mug for Joe’s milk. While she heated up his “love potion,” I splashed some Pinot Noir from the bottle I’d already opened to breathe. To be honest, I really couldn’t tell the difference after this, but it made me feel like I knew what I was doing. Which I didn’t.

  I handed Maddy hers when Joe’s mug beeped in the microwave.

  He cradled it in his hands, then slid two fingers into the handle and raised it in a toast. “Here’s to catching the bad guys.”

  Maddy immediately followed with her own toast. “To recovery.”

  Joe’s eyes watered as he smiled. “To recovery.”

  We clinked glass with china, and I led Joe into the great room to begin our conversation.

  Chapter 35

  Joe and I sat in the great room by the fire, watching the blue and orange flames lick around the logs I’d just added. Maddy had wandered upstairs to chat with Camille, and I could hear their faint laughter through the ceiling.

  Joe leaned toward me. “You sure it was Greg Robinson? Couldn’t it have been some birdwatcher who wandered onto your property?”

  I shook my head. “It had to be him. Besides, what bird lover would throw his binoculars down in the snow and run? They were still warm when I found them. Like he’d been holding onto them for a long time.”

  Joe scowled. “Even if we caught him, there’s not much we could book him for except trespassing. He wasn’t close enough to your house to violate the restraining order. And he didn’t attack you or threaten you in any way.”

  “Great.” I let out a disappointed sigh.

  “Hand me the phone, Gus. Let me call the guard I know from the prison. Let’s see if we can dig up some dirt on Robinson.”

  I picked up the landline phone and handed it to Joe. “Here you go.”

  He took out an address book from his pocket and wet his thumb, flipping through pages. “Here it is. Stan Luboski.”

  I relaxed in my leather club chair and put up my feet on the ottoman. Outside, the bare branches swayed against the windows, tapping insistently as if seeking attention.

  Joe dialed, and I listened.

  “Stan? Joe Russell here. Long time, huh? Yep. I’m fine. Still going after the crooks, you know the drill. Uh huh. Yep.” He uncrossed his legs and his expression grew serious. “Well, I’m calling you on business, actually. Hoped you could help me out.” There was a slight pause. “Yeah? Great. Well, it has to do with a prisoner you folks just released.” Joe was silent for another minute. “No. We’re not sending anyone back. Not yet. But we’ve got an issue with Greg Robinson. I called you about him last year. Remember?”

  He listened intently.

  “That right? A real weirdo, huh?”

  I strained to hear what Stan said. Even though his voice boomed through the phone line, I could only catch a few words here and there. I heard “religion,” “classes,” and “wife.”

  Joe scribbled in his notebook, nodding and grunting his replies. He stopped a few times and whistled, asking for clarification. “Do you know her name? No? Okay, call me with that one. What color was her hair? Uh huh.” He jotted more notes in his book.

  “Well. He sounds like a real doozy. What do you think about his tendency for violence? Would he revert to his abusive behaviors? Think he’s all pious now, or does he still wanna hurt people?”

  I held my breath, waiting for the answer.

  “Uh huh. I see. Well, I know it’s just your opinion, but that’s what I want. Uh huh. Okay. Thanks, Stan. That’s just what I needed. Thanks again and let me know if I can return the favor. I’ll keep you informed from this end. And call me with that name when you have it.”

  I drummed my fingers on the armrest. “So?”

  Joe hung up and frowned at his notebook. “This is really odd.”

  “What’d he say? Come on, Joe. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He scratched his head. “Well, here’s the scoop. The man has behaved erratically. On the one hand, he’s been studying to be a minister. Taking all these lay pastor courses and such. Started up a new church group in the prison called the New Dawn Church. Has some supporters and contributors who are on the outside. Some even showed up for the ‘service’ that Robinson held on Visitor’s Sunday.”

  “And on the other hand?” I said.

  “He’s been in some fights. Stan’s seen him turn on some of the inmates in a way that seemed…uh…ferocious. Yeah, that’s what he said. Ferocious. Said he seemed to turn into another person altogether. The meek and mild minister suddenly vanishes and this…‘snarling beast’ comes out. That’s what Stan called him. Said it gave him the shivers. Said he seemed almost…uh, demonic.” Joe glanced up from his notes. “Scary, huh?”

  “Indeed.” I pondered the idea of a schizoid minister/demon stalking my family. Not a pretty picture.

  Joe scratched his head again. “That’s not the odd part. He said he received a regular visitor for years. Until recently that is.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. The odd part is…Robinson insisted she was his wife.”

  Chapter 36

  I stared at Joe. “What do you mean, his wife?”

  “That’s what he said. His wife.”

  “Did he say what she looked like?”

  “Dark brown hair, curly and long. Petite.”

  I sat mute and stared at him. “But Camille would never…”

  “I know, I know. There has to be another explanation. Stan’s gonna look up her name and call me back. Should be photos of her, too, from the video at the prison entrance.”

  My mind pinwheeled. His wife? A woman with the same description as Camille?

  Her fear of him was visceral. She couldn’t think of him coming near her without panicking. So, who the hell visited this fiend each week claiming to be his wife?

  “Why don’t we ask Camille about it?” Joe tentatively offered.

  As if she’d read his mind, Camille padded down the stairs with her mother close behind. Both women drifted into the room. Camille perched on the arm of my chair and Maddy snuggled next to Joe on the couch.

  “You men make any progress?” Maddy asked, kissing him.

  “I think so,” he stammered, his face reddening. “Gus wanted to ask Camille about her ex. Maybe we should give them a bit of privacy?”

  “
No need,” I said. “It’s all in the family, anyway.” I hugged Camille sideways. “Right, honey?”

  She kissed my cheek. “Of course.”

  A half smile crept onto his lips. “Okay. Well, then, we oughtta tell the ladies what we’ve learned.” He recounted the story.

  When he got to the part about Greg’s “wife,” Camille paled. “What?” Disbelief swam in her eyes. “Wife? What are you talking about? We’re divorced. And I never…”

  Joe picked up the story. “Yeah. It’s strange, Camille, but her physical characteristics match yours. At least from what Stan told me. Did he ever get remarried? Maybe when he was in prison?”

  “The divorce was finalized a year ago. There was a problem with Greg’s lawyer. Or the non-existence of his lawyer. He kept firing the one the court appointed him. So it dragged on forever.”

  I remembered her telling me the frustrating story last year when the papers finally came through.

  “It was legal a few months before Gus and I married,” she added. “I suppose he might’ve gotten married after that.”

  Joe shook his head slowly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. But Stan said she visited every Sunday since he was first incarcerated almost five years ago. Up until just before this past Christmas.”

  The sound of little feet pattering came from upstairs in the twins’ bedroom. There was a loud thump, followed by the sound of wailing.

  “I want to keep talking about this,” I said, exchanging glances with Camille. “But it looks like the troops are up. We’d better get dinner on the table.”

  Camille stared ahead with dazed eyes. “Uh, yeah, okay,” she mumbled. “We’ll have to figure this out later.”

  I kissed her cheek and squeezed her shoulders. “Try not to worry about it now, sweetheart. Shelby’s safe upstairs and we’ve got the cops with us for a while.”

  I motioned to the doorway where Adam Knapp ducked inside, closely followed by Oscar and Millie Stone. Oscar backed Millie’s wheelchair inside, letting in a cold burst of air.

  Maddy hopped up and walked briskly into the dining room. She found the silverware and plates in the buffet and began to set the table. Camille followed her and dragged our three high chairs forward for the children. Johnny clambered down the stairs and trotted toward me.