Glare Ice

by Mary Logue

  Claire thought of calling the ex-husband, but then decided it might suit her better to drive up and see him in person.

  14

  SHE was swathed in something. She couldn’t tell what it was. She could feel it with her hands—if only she could lift them up that high. He was keeping her hostage. He had her locked up in a cellar. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t open her eyes. Her head throbbed; her face ached. She hurt in every cell of her body.

  There was only one thing to do, one thing that would express the outrage of what she was feeling. She screamed as loud and long as she could. Maybe if she screamed long enough she would die. She wanted to die.

  Suddenly there were hands on her arms. Someone, a woman, was talking to her. “It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You were just in surgery. You’re doing fine.”

  Stephanie couldn’t remember what had happened. She was running away. Why couldn’t she see? Why was she in the hospital? She had the car packed, the dog … Where was the dog? Had she left the dog to freeze in the snow?

  She screamed again.

  The woman took her hand. “You have to stop that. You are disturbing everyone around you. Tell me what’s the matter.”

  “My dog?”

  There was silence. Then the woman said, “I’m sure he’s fine. No one said anything had happened to the dog.”

  “My eyes?”

  “You’ll be okay. We’ve got them bandaged for now. The doctor will be in soon, and he’ll take off the bandages.”

  “I hurt.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do. We have you on Demerol. I’ll give you a little more now. It should make you feel better.”

  She hoped this was no new trick of his. A woman to pretend she was a nurse. The dog had to be all right. He was such a good dog. She felt tears in her eyes, but where would the tears go? Her head hurt to its core. It rang like a bell. She thought, he hit me and hit me. Then a river flowed into her veins, and she floated away for a while.

  When she came to consciousness again, a man was talking to her. He touched her arm, shook it gently, and said her name.

  “What?” The word came out like a croak.

  “Stephanie, I’m your doctor. Dr. Klein. How are you feeling?” “Shit.”

  “I’m afraid that’s to be expected. You’ve taken a pretty bad beating. We did some surgery on you this morning. Reset your nose and repaired your eyes. All of that will make you feel pretty lousy. But within a day or two, you should be feeling much better. Do you have any questions?”

  “My dog?”

  Again there was silence. “I’m not sure about your dog. The deputy might know. She’s called a couple times and said she’d be down shortly.”

  “Watkins?”

  “I believe that’s her name.”

  Stephanie relaxed a little. If the woman had found her, she would take care of Snooper. She was a good mother. She would know what to do. Then Stephanie remembered she needed to get away. If he did this to her, he would come again. She didn’t even know if she was safe in the hospital.

  “Stephanie, I want to take off the bandages over your eyes now that you’re awake. You can tell me what you can see. We’ve got the lights very dim in the room, so it won’t be a shock.”

  She could feel him unpeeling the tape from her face. She wanted to make him stop. Every little movement made her head ring and clang. It hurt so much she sucked in her breath.

  “I’m being very gentle. Only a little more to go here,” he said, and then, “There you go.”

  Stephanie opened her eyes. This time she saw some vague light and a white face close to hers. “Can you see me?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “What do I look like?”

  “A blob of white.”

  “That’s a start. How many fingers?” The face disappeared, and two sausages appeared in front of her face.

  “Two.”

  “That’s right. Encouraging. Let’s turn up the lights a bit. Now, Stephanie, I’m going to slightly crank up your bed so you can look around.” The back of the bed pushed into her from behind, forcing her to sit up. “Tell me what you can see.”

  Stephanie closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see any more of the world. It was too hard. But then she knew she had to find out about her dog. She opened her eyes and looked as hard as she could. “The door,” she said. It was darker over there. “The windows.” A square of light shone in the room.

  “Are you seeing as well as you normally do?”

  “No, it’s hard.”

  “I think you’re doing well. Let’s rest the eyes again for a while and try a little bit later.”

  Time drifted by her as the nurse came and gave her another bump of Demerol. Then someone new walked into the room. A clapping footstep sound.

  The person stood next to her bed and sighed. Stephanie managed to open her eyes. She saw a woman with dark hair. Then she could make out the uniform.

  “Where’s my dog?” she asked.

  “He’s fine.”

  Tears came, and this time she felt them run down her cheeks. “He’s fine?” she repeated.

  “Yes, he’s staying with a friend of mine. I think you know him—Rich Haggard. Snooper was guarding you when we got there.”

  “He was guarding me?”

  “Sitting on top of you and growling.”

  “He’s a good dog.”

  “He’s a very good dog,” Watkins agreed with her, then continued, “How’re you feeling?”

  Stephanie thought it was a stupid question. “Look at me. I feel like I look.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The deputy’s concern surprised Stephanie. “Thanks.”

  “Stephanie, I have to ask you some questions. You need to help me out here. Someone came over to your house yesterday and beat you very badly. They used a champagne bottle to do it.”

  “I don’t remember anything at all. It’s gone from my head,” Stephanie said, which was the truth.

  “I know this is hard. But I don’t want this to happen to you ever again. Do you know who did it?”

  She could guess. He had beat her so many times before, though never so badly she had to go to the hospital. But she couldn’t tell. She had to get away. If she told, they would make her stay and fight him. She couldn’t do it. They didn’t know what he was like. He would win in the end.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  Deputy Watkins stayed silent.

  “I don’t know who did it,” Stephanie said a little louder.

  Deputy Watkins sighed. “I was hoping you would remember and tell us so we could arrest him and protect you.” “I can’t.”

  A nurse walked in the room and stood behind the deputy. “Stephanie, your brother called. He asked how you were doing. He said he’d try to stop by later and see you. He told me to tell you.”

  Stephanie nodded. Her brother checking on her.

  “I’ll be back to see if you’ve remembered anything. If you do, tell one of the nurses. They have my number. They’ll call me, and I’ll come right down.”

  Stephanie nodded again, just wanting the deputy to leave. She was too tired to do anything to save herself.

  “You can’t even guess who hurt you?” The deputy wouldn’t give up.

  Stephanie felt her head hurt from all the questions. “Not a clue,” she said. The lies came so easily—she’d had a lifetime of practice.

  Driving into Eau Claire, Claire realized it had been a while since she had come here. When Claire first moved to tiny Fort St. Antoine, she missed the big cities, but now she found them exhausting, the traffic more frustrating than ever.

  She didn’t know her way around Eau Claire very well, so she stopped, got out a good map, and located the street that Tom Jackson lived on.

  Fifteen minutes later she parked in front of Jackson’s house. She knocked on the door and waited, then knocked again. Finally a woman came to the door. Tall and thin, she looked unhealthy. Her hair was dull brown and oily, an
d her eyes looked like dark pools.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked sullenly.

  Claire was surprised the uniform didn’t impress the woman a little more. Maybe she had seen it too many times. She decided to show her the badge too. “I’m here to talk to Tom Jackson … your husband?”

  “He’s not exactly my husband. Technically we’re not married.”

  “Is he here?”

  “Naw, he’s at work. They had to work today. You should know that. Plus he gets time and a half.”

  “Who am I speaking with?”

  “My name’s Debby. Debby Thompson.”

  “Debby, may I come in?”

  “You wanta come in? The house is a mess. Didn’t clean up from last night.” Debby backed up and let her into the living room. A crocheted afghan was piled on the couch. A pillow leaned against one arm of the couch. The woman had evidently been lying there when Claire came to the door.

  Claire could see through to the dining room, where the table was covered with dirty dishes; empty bowls of food littered the middle, with the scrawny carcass of a turkey presiding over the whole mess.

  Debby explained, “Had the parents over last night. I had made the whole meal and nobody offered to help with dishes, so I let them set.”

  “Was Tom with you all of yesterday?”

  “Sure. Why? What’s this about? Tom’s okay, isn’t he?”

  “I’m not here to give you bad news about Tom. I’m here about someone else.” Claire decided to try a different tack. “Did you know his ex-wife, Stephanie Klaus?”

  “Heard about her. That’s about all. Never met the woman. Tom doesn’t have too much good to say about her. I’m just glad they didn’t have any kids. Always makes it messier, hard on the kids. I’ve got three of my own. They’re off at their grandparents’ today.” Debby put her hand to her head.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, I get these migraines. I can’t do nothing. Can’t move. Can’t stand noise or light. Just got to stick it out. I take pills, but they don’t do much. You ever had a migraine?” “No.”

  “Don’t know how lucky you are.” Debby sat down on the couch.

  “So Tom didn’t leave the house all day?” “He left once. To go get some beer for dinner.” “What time was that?” “Midafternoon.” “How long was he gone?” “Didn’t pay much attention. An hour or two.” “An hour or two? To get beer?” Claire questioned. “He might have stopped for a few on the way.” The drive from Fort St. Antoine was about an hour. It might be possible.

  “Where does Tom work?” “You don’t know?” “No. Should I?”

  The woman pulled the afghan over her shoulders and gave Claire the address of the Eau Claire police department. Claire felt like an idiot that she hadn’t known he was a cop. He must have joined the force after he divorced Stephanie.

  Claire had one more question. How do you ask a woman if her boyfriend is beating her? “Debby, how does he treat you?”

  Debby looked at her oddly and then asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Does Tom ever get rough with you?” “What the hell is this about? It’s none of your business. He’s way better than a lot of the men I’ve known. He treats me fine.”

  Claire noticed that Debby hadn’t said that Tom never hit her.

  When Claire left the house, she thought of putting off the talk with Tom Jackson until after she had checked him out through the grapevine. She didn’t like to walk into interviews cold. But she didn’t relish another drive to Eau Claire, especially if the weather stayed nasty. The roads were still icy from the last snowstorm, and they were talking about more on the way.

  The police department was downtown in the old courthouse building. Claire loved the stonework of the building from the 1800s.

  Tom Jackson stepped around his desk when he heard Claire call his name. He was a big man with a barrel chest and sandy hair. His eyes were dirty brown, and he had freckles like constellations on his face. He greeted her with a careful smile.

  Claire flipped her ID for him. “Mr. Jackson, I’m here to ask you some questions about Stephanie Klaus.”

  He stepped back, shaking his head a little. “Stephanie Klaus, haven’t thought of her in a while. What do you want to know? She all right?”

  “You were married to her?”

  “You must know that. What’d she say about me?”

  “Stephanie didn’t say anything.”

  “You been talking to Debby.”

  “I checked my contacts to find out where you were working.”

  “Yeah, I know a couple of guys work for Pepin County.” He ran his eyes up and down her body. “Heard they had a good-looking woman working there. What do you want to know?”

  “Have you seen Stephanie recently?”

  “Haven’t seen her in about four years, I think. No, I did run into her in Eau Claire once, but that was still a few years ago. I think she was visiting her folks. What’s this about?”

  “She was assaulted yesterday afternoon. She’s in the hospital.”

  “How bad?”

  She watched his eyes as she told him about Stephanie. “Broken nose, damage to her eyes.”

  He winced. “Jeez. She was a nice kid. Just didn’t work out between us.”

  “May I ask why not?”

  “Who’s to say? We were too young, for starters. She was nineteen, I was twenty. I think she married me just to get out of the house. She didn’t get along with her folks that good. I married her because it seemed the thing to do. She wanted it so bad. Then six months later, out of the blue, she left me. Never really knew why. Didn’t care that much. I could tell it wasn’t working out.”

  “Were you at home all yesterday?”

  He bulked up right in front of her, chest out, arms crossed. “Don’t tell me you think I had something to do with Stephanie. You gotta be kiddin’. I don’t have to take this. Ask anyone around here what kind of cop I am. You have a lot of nerve coming in here and asking me questions.”

  Claire waited a few moments for him to calm down. “I’m sorry to offend you with my questioning. I’m just doing my job. You were home all yesterday?”

  “Sure I was. It was Thanksgiving. Girlfriend cooked a nice meal. Her parents came over. That’s all I did.”

  “Do you know anyone who might have done this to Stephanie?”

  “I told you, I didn’t really know her, and I certainly haven’t had anything to do with her recently. I’d nearly forgotten all about her. But you might want to talk to her father. As I recall, he was a mean son of a bitch. They live right out of town.”

  Claire thought that might be a good idea.

  Her brooch had gone missing. Mrs. Tabor had looked high and low for it. She had wanted to wear it on her dark burgundy wool dress for Thanksgiving at her daughter’s. Her husband had given her that brooch for their first wedding anniversary. She remembered he had told her that the past year had been the best of his life, and he wanted a few more. They had had many more together—nearly fifty before he had died of a heart attack.

  The brooch was a circlet of garnets. She knew they weren’t that expensive, not like rubies or anything, but she loved the dark red color of them. The whole cluster had always looked so rich. She loved to wear her brooch, but she saved it for special occasions. She didn’t have much fancy jewelry—a plain gold band served as her wedding ring—but the brooch had always been her favorite piece. She usually left it sitting on the top of her bureau.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen it. Thank goodness her daughter hadn’t noticed she wasn’t wearing it. Too much on her mind, with the big dinner and all. My, it had been good. So nice to spend some time with her grandchildren. A happy family they were. They drove her home last night, and she didn’t get in bed until almost eleven. A very late night for her.

  But she hadn’t slept well. She was fussed about the brooch.

  The worst of it was, she suspected Lily. She knew Lily had liked that brooch. She had commente
d on it once or twice. But she certainly couldn’t come out and ask Lily if she took it.

  She couldn’t stand the thought that her brooch was gone for good. She didn’t have much left of her life with her husband, but that was one object she didn’t want to let go of. She had decided she would be buried with it. Seemed a little silly to bury a good piece of jewelry, but she felt that no one would ever feel about that little garnet circlet the way she did.

  Plus women just didn’t wear jewelry like that anymore. Her granddaughters were very busy trying to be cool. One had an earring in her nose, and the other had little silver balls lining her ear rim. They wouldn’t be interested in a fussy brooch.

  She might be an old woman, but she was aware of the world around her.

  When he gave her the brooch, her husband had told her that the circle represented his love for her, always true, never to be broken.

  She wanted it back.

  15

  THE Klauses’ mobile home squatted in a grove of trees just a few miles outside Eau Claire. Bales of hay encircled the skirting. Tires held down the roof. Claire thought that the trailer itself could have used some duct tape. The siding was falling off, and the roof over the entryway listed badly.

  The sidewalk hadn’t been shoveled. She kicked through snow up to the door and knocked. A strange scraping noise came from inside the trailer, and then the door burst open as if it had been released from a bungee cord.

  An old man with a wild shock of white hair stared up at her from a wheelchair. “What do you want?” he asked. He ran a hand through his hair, and it stood up more wildly.

  “Hello, Mr. Klaus. We spoke on the phone.” She showed him her ID card. “May I come in?”

  “I suppose. Sally’s sleeping. She worked late last night.”

  Claire kicked her boots on the stairs to knock off the snow before she stepped into the trailer.

  “I’d like to ask you some questions about Stephanie.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Better, I think.” She was glad to see him show some meager interest in his daughter.

  He backed up his wheelchair to give her room to come farther in, and she recognized the sound that she had been hearing as she stood outside. The trailer had so much furniture in it that his wheelchair scraped against chairs and the couch as he wheeled around. She sat down on the couch. The coffee table was covered with plates left from a variety of meals. Old orange peels and crusts of bread were strewn over the plates.