Heart of Ice

by Parrish, P. J.

  “Yes.”

  Flowers shook his head slowly, then he got in the SUV and started the engine. Louis stood shivering as Flowers pulled away. After Flowers turned around in the cul-de-sac, he stopped the SUV in front of Louis. The window whirred down.

  “There’s a bad storm coming tomorrow,” he said. “You’d better stock up on supplies while you can.”

  The window went back up. Louis watched the red taillights disappear down the road and then went back in the house.

  He stopped long enough to stamp the snow off his shoes before he headed to the kitchen. Rafsky was standing near the refrigerator, connected to the kitchen wall phone by a long coiled cord.

  “Yes, Greg Thom,” Rafsky said. “No, I need him now.”

  Louis looked to the coffeemaker, then to the bottle of Harveys Bristol Cream on the counter. He started quietly opening cupboards but found nothing but a second bottle of Harveys.

  Louis reached for two glasses, listening as Rafsky began updating the Mackinac County DA on the events of the last week. Louis knew the DA was up on the case, but like Flowers he couldn’t possibly expect what Rafsky was about to tell him.

  When Rafsky finished explaining that Julie was now on the island, Louis could hear the squawk of Thom’s voice from the receiver but couldn’t understand what he was saying. On Rafsky’s end it was mostly “Yes, sir” and “I understand.”

  After he hung up, Rafsky rubbed his brow and looked at Louis, his eyes dipping to the glass in Louis’s hand.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Louis handed Rafsky a glass and filled it. “Harveys Bristol Cream.”

  Rafsky took a drink and grimaced.

  “What did the district attorney say?”

  Rafsky sank into a chair at the kitchen table. He downed the sherry like a shot of whiskey and held his glass out for a refill. “He was pissed until I told him we had our suspect right here on the island,” he said. “He wanted me to arrest her now, but I talked him out of it until he reviews her statement. He wanted me to bring the tape over today.”

  He looked to the Harveys in his hand and finished it. “Fuck it. I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Did Thom indicate what direction he was going to take this?”

  Rafsky tapped the rim of his glass and Louis refilled it again. “He asked me if I believed her story of self-defense.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I did. But then he said that if it was self-defense, why did she run?”

  “She was seventeen and scared,” Louis said.

  “That’s no defense.”

  “She thought she couldn’t go home.”

  “Still no defense.”

  “She was afraid of Ross.”

  Rafsky gave him a raised eyebrow. “Do you really think an incest defense will mitigate murder charges?”

  Louis picked up his glass but set it back down. He was so exhausted from the trip to California he could barely think.

  “You’ve done all you can,” Rafsky said.

  Louis heard a sound and turned toward the door. Maisey was standing there, holding Julie’s raincoat.

  “Did I hear you mention Mr. Ross?” she asked.

  Louis and Rafsky exchanged glances. Rafsky reached for the bottle of Harveys to refill his glass as a pretense to not answer.

  “Yes,” Louis said.

  Maisey came forward. “If that boy shows up here I’ll kill him,” she said.

  45

  Louis believed her. He believed that if Ross showed up at the house, Maisey would in fact kill him. Her guilt over not protecting Julie as a child had new life. Before today Maisey might have been able to go to her grave bearing its weight. But not now, not since Julie had been given back to her.

  As for Julie, she didn’t ask one question about her brother.

  She did ask about Cooper. Last night, as Louis and Rafsky were getting ready to leave the cottage, Julie had come downstairs. She had pulled Louis aside and asked if there was any chance she could see him.

  I’m going to prison. I know that. I just want to see him once.

  Later, back at their hotel, Louis had brought it up to Rafsky. It took Rafsky a long time to answer, and it was not what Louis was expecting.

  I think I can make that happen.

  What was behind Rafsky’s decision? It wasn’t sentimentality; that wasn’t in Rafsky’s bones. Louis suspected it was something deeper, something that came from that part of Rafsky that had whispered, Tell Frye I forgive her.

  Whatever it was, it had brought Louis here, to the Ice House bar in St. Ignace.

  It was lunchtime, but the place was almost deserted, just two men hunched over beers at the bar. Rafsky had told Louis that Cooper’s father had put the bar up as collateral for his son’s bail. Louis suspected the publicity had not been good for business.

  There was a man behind the bar cleaning glasses. He was tall and thin like Cooper but older, and as Louis stepped up to the bar he gave Louis a hard stare.

  “You’re that cop,” the old man said.

  Louis didn’t bother to correct him. “I’m looking for Cooper Lange. Is he here?”

  “No, he’s not. Now why don’t you get out of here?”

  Over the man’s shoulder, Louis saw someone come out from the back carrying a beer keg. Cooper’s eyes were on Louis as he set the keg down.

  “It’s okay, Pop,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”

  The old man moved away to the end of the bar but didn’t take his eyes off Louis.

  “What do you want?” Cooper asked Louis.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t have to talk to you. I got a lawyer. Talk to him.”

  “It’s not about the charges against you,” Louis said. “It’s something else.”

  Cooper shook his head and started to turn away.

  “Look, it’s personal,” Louis said.

  Louis looked down the bar. Cooper’s father was still watching them, and Louis knew he could hear every word.

  “Come outside with me,” Louis said.

  “Forget it.”

  “Cooper, you’ve got to trust me on this. It’s personal and it’s important.”

  In the glare of the neon sign behind the bar, Louis could see something change in Cooper’s face. With a glance at his father he followed Louis outside.

  An icy wind was blowing hard from the lake. Cooper, standing there in his flannel shirt, didn’t seem to feel it. Louis pulled up the hood of his parka.

  “I need you to come to the island with me,” Louis said.

  “What? What the fuck for? You guys want to play hockey with my balls again?”

  “Cooper—”

  “Fuck this, man.”

  Cooper started to go back in the door. Louis grabbed his sleeve. Cooper slapped his hand away but then stepped back, realizing he couldn’t risk even looking cross-eyed at a cop at this point.

  “Goddamn it,” he said softly. “It’s bad enough I had to tell my dad everything. I had to tell him about Julie, I had to tell him I was running away to Canada, man! And here you are again. What the fuck more do you want from me?”

  “I want you to come to the island with me,” Louis said.

  Cooper shook his head. “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you. Not here. You have to trust me,” Louis said.

  Cooper hung his head.

  It was time to play the ace.

  “If you come,” Louis said, “I can make sure the resisting arrest charges against you are dropped.”

  Cooper looked up at him. “Don’t fuck with me,” he said softly.

  “I’m not,” Louis said. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  When they got off the ferry, the kid handling the ropes told them the last ferry back to St. Ignace left at four. Louis assured Cooper he would make it, and they started up Main Street.

  “Where are we going?” Cooper asked.

  “The Chapman house.”

  Cooper stop
ped. “What for?”

  “You’ll find out when you get there.”

  Cooper glanced back toward the docks, but the ferry had already left. He said nothing until they were almost to the end of West Bluff Road, where he stopped and stared up at the house.

  “I’ve never been inside,” he said. He looked to his left to a small break in the trees. “Julie always met me over there, on the path down to the lake.”

  Louis put a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Let’s go in,” he said.

  In the foyer Cooper took off his gloves and pushed off his red wool hat. His eyes were everywhere, taking in the oak paneling, the curving staircase, and the parlor with its sheet-draped furniture and cardboard boxes.

  He took a step closer to Louis. “Why am I here?” he asked softly.

  The creak of the wood floors made them both look to the hallway. Julie was coming in from the kitchen.

  A night’s sleep and Maisey’s tender care had transformed her. She was wearing jeans and a dark red sweater. Her hair was loose around her shoulders.

  “Hello, Cooper.”

  He just stared at her.

  She took a step forward. “It’s me, Cooper,” she said softly.

  “My God,” he whispered.

  Julie’s eyes brimmed. “I know. I know.”

  Cooper didn’t move. Couldn’t move, Louis thought as he watched the man. Julie went to Cooper and gently, tentatively, held out her arms. He stepped into them, awkwardly at first, then he clasped her to him and closed his eyes. Julie buried her face in his shoulder.

  Louis heard a sound and saw Maisey coming from the kitchen. She came over to stand next to him, her hand to her mouth. For a long time the only sound was the wind ticking against the windows. Then Cooper let out a hard breath and took a step back, out of Julie’s arms.

  He wiped a hand roughly over his face.

  “How?”

  His question was for Louis, but his eyes never left Julie’s face.

  “Later,” Louis said.

  Cooper gave Louis the barest glance before looking back at Julie.

  Maisey put a hand on Julie’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take Cooper in the kitchen, honey. I’ll make some fresh coffee.”

  Julie smiled and nodded. She took Cooper’s hand, and they walked down the hall.

  Louis saw Julie sit down at the kitchen table across from Cooper. Even from this distance he could see it in her face, see that as happy as she was to see Cooper again, she knew their moment had passed.

  Maisey was watching them, too, her eyes bright with tears.

  “What’s going to happen to her?” she asked.

  Louis glanced at his watch. Rafsky was meeting with the DA Greg Thom right now. It was the kind of meeting that would take hours. The final decision about what to do with Julie Chapman was in the hands of a small-town district attorney who, depending on his decision, could end up either crucified or canonized by the media.

  “We’ll know by tomorrow,” Louis said.

  Maisey nodded and started toward the kitchen. But she stopped and came back to Louis.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kincaid,” she said.

  She held out her hand but then instead drew him into a tight hug.

  46

  It was midmorning but the house was as dark as if it were dusk. The Canadian front that had been threatening for two days was making its way onto the island, bringing an ice storm that had brought down electrical wires and left a hard glaze on the trees that sent them groaning and clicking with each shift of the wind.

  Maisey pulled her bathrobe tighter and headed to the fireplace. All the logs from last night were burned down to ashes, and there was no more wood in the basket. Julie and Cooper had used it up last night, sitting down here wrapped in quilts and talking to God knows what hour.

  Maisey had slipped away around nine to give them some privacy. For a long time, though, she had lain upstairs with her door ajar, knowing it was wrong to eavesdrop but wanting to make sure Cooper said or did nothing to upset Julie. But all she heard was murmuring voices and eventually she had fallen asleep. This morning she had found his pillow and blankets folded neatly on the sofa in the parlor.

  “Still no power, Miss Maisey?”

  Maisey turned to see Cooper standing in the foyer. It was so cold in the house he was wearing his parka. Julie was still sleeping, she knew. There hadn’t been a sound from her room.

  “No, the ice storm took the lines down,” she said. “The phone’s still working. I called the electrical people this morning, and they said they’re working on getting the power back.”

  Cooper nodded. “Maybe I better go get some more wood, then,” he said.

  “Yes, that would be good,” Maisey said.

  Cooper disappeared, and a moment later Maisey heard the back door bang closed. She looked back to the pile of blankets and quilts on the sofa, wondering what it must feel like to be them—to be Julie and Cooper—and see each other again after all these years, after all the lies and assumptions.

  With that thought came a rush of regret that she had never told Mr. Edward that she suspected that Julie was alive. Maybe she should have, but she had no real proof. And even if she had found out for sure, and no matter how much she loved Mr. Edward, her first loyalty had always been to Julie. And if that was wrong, then let God be her judge.

  “Here you go, Miss Maisey.”

  Cooper came in, carrying a bulging canvas tote in each hand. He set them by the fireplace. “It’s getting pretty ugly out there now,” he said. “I should probably get going down to town and see if the ferry—”

  “Nonsense,” Maisey said. “There isn’t going to be a ferry today or probably tomorrow. You’ll just have to stay here until they start running again.”

  Cooper gave her an awkward smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d like that.”

  Maisey nodded. “But if you want to help you can run down to Doud’s and get us some food,” she said. “I wasn’t planning on company, and the cupboards are pretty bare. You’d better get some more candles and batteries, too, just in case.”

  “Not a problem,” Cooper said. He pulled his gloves and red wool cap from his pocket and started toward the door. “Anything else you need?”

  “Try to find a bottle of Harveys Bristol Cream. Someone drank all mine yesterday.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cooper left in a swirl of snow, and when the door closed the house was quiet again. Maisey heaped some logs on the grate, lit a fire, and started to the kitchen.

  As she passed through the foyer, she heard the clump of footsteps on the porch. A shadow appeared behind the beveled glass. Cooper probably forgot his wallet and had come back to get money, she thought. She should’ve offered some.

  She reached for the door but it burst open, almost knocking her over. Ross stood in the doorway. Snow caked his hair and the shoulders of his dark overcoat, and he was looking around the foyer like a rabid animal. His eyes stopped on Maisey.

  “Where is she?”

  Maisey stepped toward him. “Get out of my house.”

  “Your house,” Ross said. “A house you whored your way into. Where’s my sister?”

  Maisey wanted to smack him. “Who told you she was here?”

  “I’m a fucking senator, and I am her brother,” Ross said. “The DA’s office called me. Now, where the hell is she?”

  “She doesn’t want to see you!”

  Ross shoved Maisey aside and walked quickly to the parlor. Seeing no one, he spun back and headed to the kitchen. Maisey hurried after him.

  “Get out!” she shouted. “Get out or I’ll call the police.”

  Ross stopped, his eyes pinballing around the kitchen. He started back toward the foyer.

  God, no. He was going upstairs!

  Maisey grabbed a knife off the counter and ran after him. “Get out of here or I’ll kill you!” she screamed.

  Ross spun, saw the knife, and smacked it from her hand. It skittered into a corner by the door
.

  Ross headed toward the stairs. Maisey launched herself at his back. He slipped on the wet floor but then caught his balance on the stair post and knocked her away.

  She saw the blur of his fist, then felt the slam of blinding white pain in her jaw. She stumbled backward onto some cardboard boxes, hitting her hip hard as she fell to the floor. The taste of blood was thick on her tongue. Ross was coming toward her again. She cringed, bracing for another blow.

  “Get away from her!”

  Maisey opened her eyes. Ross’s dark coat came into focus and then, beyond him, Julie standing on the stairs. Maisey tried to talk, tried to tell Julie to run, but she couldn’t move her mouth.

  Julie came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes riveted on Ross, she edged past him and knelt next to Maisey.

  “You’re bleeding,” Julie said.

  “Go,” Maisey whispered. “Get . . . help.”

  “I’m not leaving you with him.”

  “I’ll be—”

  Suddenly Julie let out a yelp as Ross jerked her to her feet. Maisey’s heart was hammering. She spotted the knife near the coatrack, but she couldn’t move. Something was wrong with her hip. Maybe if she could talk to him, maybe she could reason with him like she used to do when he was a boy.

  But she knew he wouldn’t listen. He was staring at Julie. His face was slack with astonishment, as if he were looking at a ghost. There was something else there in his eyes, something that made Maisey’s stomach turn—desire.

  “Julie,” Ross whispered.

  Julie took a step back.

  “Julie,” Ross said again. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

  He held out his hands.

  “Stay away from me!”

  He blinked and for a moment seemed completely confused. “How can you say that to me?”

  “I said it a million times before but you never heard me!”

  “Julie, listen to me,” Ross said. “You don’t have to do this anymore. They’re all gone. It’s just us now.”

  Julie put her hands over her face. Maisey tried to use the boxes to pull herself into a sitting position. Ross’s eyes flitted to her, and for one second she could see something of the boy there, the needy boy who nobody needed. But then it was gone and there was just madness.