Winter Chill

by Joanne Fluke

  Alec Guinness had been murdered for the fifth time before he started to worry. It was one fifteen, and Marian still wasn’t home. If she wasn’t home by the end of the film, he’d call the lodge. Maybe the party was running late this year.

  They were running the credits now. Robert Hamer was one hell of a director! They didn’t make comedies like this anymore. Dan reached for the phone as the last of the credits rolled. He really was worried about Marian. The streets were icy tonight.

  There was no answer at the Elks Lodge. Either the party was over or they weren’t answering the phone. Dan debated for a minute, and then he called Butch Johnson.

  Butch answered the phone on the first ring. Dan could hear his stereo playing punk rock in the background.

  “Isn’t she home yet?” Butch sounded very drunk. “She left the same time I did. It was about twelve thirty, I think. We had a snowball fight in the parking lot, and Marian was blotto. Drew said he’d drive her home.”

  Dan clenched his fist as he thanked Butch politely and hung up the phone. She left with Drew! And it took only five minutes to get here from the Elks Lodge. He had known something like this would happen!

  Maybe Butch was wrong about the time. He was pretty drunk. Or maybe Drew and Marian had stopped off for a cup of coffee. They might even be stuck in a snowdrift a couple of blocks from here.

  Dan did his best to give her the benefit of the doubt, but his mind was filled with horrible pictures. Marian in Drew’s apartment. Marian in Drew’s bed. Marian lifting her arms and pulling Drew down to her naked body. He felt a mixture of rage and despair as the minutes dragged on and on.

  At 2:20 a.m. he heard her key in the lock. Then she was standing in the doorway, her hair disheveled, clothes disarranged, as if she’d dressed in a hurry. There was no doubt in his mind now. Icy rage took the place of worry.

  “You were with him, weren’t you!”

  The tears that fell from her eyes were an affirmation. Then she was stumbling toward him, lipstick smeared in a red gash on her white face.

  “Oh, God! I never meant to! Dan . . . please! I was so drunk, I . . . I thought it was you!”

  Getting drunk was a sophomoric excuse. Dan trembled with anger. Oh, she was drunk, all right. Any fool could see that. But she had known exactly what she was doing!

  He wanted to hit her, to rise from his bed and beat the living shit out of her!

  Dan gave a bitter snort. That would be pretty hard to do. Marian had the odds in her favor. She could sleep with anyone she wanted, even bring them right into the house, and he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. Damn these useless legs!

  Dan turned his face to the wall. He wouldn’t say another word to her. There was nothing to say. She had betrayed him by her own admission.

  “Please, Dan, I swear it’ll never happen again!” Her voice was shaking and desperate. “I never meant to hurt you. You’ve got to believe me. Please, Dan! Tell me you forgive me!”

  Her guilty tears were wet against his cheek, but there was no way she could reach him now. He was isolated by his anger. He was a rock, a cold, untouchable shape in the bed as she cried out her useless pleas for forgiveness over and over again.

  At last it stopped, and she was quiet. Dan was alone in his cocoon of pain. He heard her rise and get ready for bed, felt her slip under the covers beside him. Her skin was warm as she cuddled up against him, but he felt no closeness. She was a stranger now. The Marian he had loved was dead.

  Marian had cried for hours, but he wouldn’t forgive her. He was like a block of ice in the bed, frozen and still. Just being close to him made the cold creep into her heart. She was alone in her pain, alone in her guilt, totally and irrevocably alone.

  Laura’s room. She was out of bed the moment she thought of it. She would go to Laura’s room and sleep. She would be alone there, but no more so than here. And Laura might come to her and comfort her.

  She switched on the Snoopy night-light and opened the heat vent. It was better up here, away from Dan. There was comfort in the shape of Laura’s toys in the dim light. Marian turned back the covers and slipped into the narrow bed. She was so tired. In no time at all she was warm and asleep.

  Dan stared out the window. It was starting to get light. He couldn’t make out the numbers on his watch yet, but it must be between five and six in the morning.

  He was alone in the bed. Marian had left him, and he had heard her go up the stairs to Laura’s room. Dan had felt relief. With Marian gone, he could sleep at last. Just having her beside him, sharing his bed, was a constant pain.

  It seemed he had just dropped off to sleep when the dream came. It was another walking dream, the kind he had experienced before. This time he walked to the kitchen. The moon was shining in the window, casting pale blue shadows over the linoleum floor. He opened the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of orange juice, then stood at the window and drank it. The moon was cold and full over Heidelberg Hill. He rinsed out his glass and came back to bed, the floor icy under his bare feet. Then he pulled up the covers and went back to sleep, only to wake again with a strange sensation in his legs.

  It was hard to believe it was only a dream. Dan reached down to feel his legs, grabbing the flesh between his thumb and finger, pinching hard. Nothing. There was no feeling at all. Not now. But they had tingled before, and there was a soreness in the muscles of his thighs. It was the same sensation he used to get when he skated too long or hiked up a long, steep hill. Now it was gone, but he remembered the dream. He had walked again, and it felt so real!

  He stared out the window, eyes bleak, and watched the daylight come. His mind was filled with memories, and his heart was filled with hate. Damn Marian for taking what he couldn’t give her!

  For a moment she was disoriented, unfamiliar with the shape of the room. Then she knew where she was. She was sleeping in Laura’s bed. Marian sat up and blinked against the sun streaming in the window. It was late, eleven o’clock in the morning. Her head hurt.

  Marian padded across the hall to the bathroom and took three aspirins. Her face looked back at her from the mirror over the medicine cabinet. Nothing had changed. She still looked exactly the same.

  Perhaps it was all a dream? For a moment, Marian tried to believe that. But it wasn’t a dream, even though her dreams of late were remarkably vivid. The borders were blurred between dreams and reality. It was much harder now to tell the difference.

  Then she remembered, and the pain was back. Yes, it had really happened. Dan would never forgive her.

  It was over. Drew was leaving for New York tomorrow. She would never have to face him again. But how could she face Dan!

  There was no sound from the den as she passed the door. Dan was still sleeping. Marian plugged in the coffee and forced herself to drink a glass of orange juice. There was a terrible taste in her mouth. Then she sat at the table and sipped her coffee, wishing she could turn time back to early November. They had been so happy then.

  She could hear the television go on in the den. Dan must be awake. She’d take him a cup of coffee and start his breakfast. She had to act normally, as if nothing had happened. It was the only way she could cope.

  “Do you want coffee?” She winced at the dark circles under his eyes. She had caused them. What if he refused to talk to her? What would she do then?

  “Yes, thank you.”

  His tone was civil, inflections neutral, as if he were talking to a stranger. Guilt stabbed through her as she set the coffee down on the bedside table.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I scheduled hockey practice for three this afternoon.”

  “During vacation?”

  “It’s not for the whole team.” He was explaining so politely that Marian felt like a visitor in her own home. “Cliff and I arranged to get together a couple of times over the holidays. He wants some extra practice so he won’t stiffen up. That ankle of his is still giving him trouble.”

  “I’ll drive you to the school. I have to do some shopp
ing, anyway. And now I’d better start your breakfast, or we’ll never get out of here in time.”

  At least they were talking! Marian drew a relieved breath. It was a start.

  Marian put some bacon in the pan and took out a carton of eggs. The phone rang, and she picked it up in the kitchen.

  “Did you have a good time at the teachers’ party?” It was Sally. “Tell me all about it.”

  “It was the usual thing, Sally . . . drinking, dancing, and trying to avoid Harvey. Last night he wanted to discuss moving the sixth grade up to junior high.”

  “Did you see Drew? Somebody said he was leaving tomorrow.”

  Marian shuddered. Even hearing his name filled her with remorse.

  “I danced with him a couple of times. Nothing much happened at the party, Sally.”

  At least that much was true. Everything had happened after the party. Marian pressed the bacon down with her spatula and put on the eggs.

  “I just wanted to check in with you.” Sally laughed easily. “Ronnie lost a buck and a half to Dan last night. How does it feel being married to a winner?”

  Somehow Marian managed to finish the conversation. Her hands were shaking as she drained the bacon and set it on the plate. She was very glad this was Christmas vacation. There would be no rehashes of the party in the faculty lounge. Perhaps everyone would forget about it before school started again.

  “I’ll meet you here at four.” Dan waved as Cliff pushed him off toward the rink. He was pretending everything was normal between them, and Marian was grateful. Nisswa was a small town, and people would talk if they thought anything was wrong.

  Marian backed the van out of the lot and drove through town to the Red Owl. She had a grocery list a mile long, and the store would be crowded today. Most people did their weekly shopping on Saturday afternoon.

  A red pickup truck was just backing out, and Marian found a spot next to the entrance. There was an empty shopping cart outside, and she pushed it through the door. It didn’t take long to learn why it had been abandoned. Three wheels pulled for the meat case, while the other headed in the direction of the parking lot. She had half a notion to leave it in the middle of the aisle, but the store was crowded and there was a shortage of carts.

  Pork chops for dinner. Marian picked up a package and tried to see the meat under the top layer. She hated these Styrofoam trays. Meat packaged in clear plastic was easy. All you had to do was tip it over to see the bottom. Now it was a guessing game. And they always put the best cuts on top. She should have gone to the butcher in Brainerd.

  Chicken was safe. She put a whole fryer in her basket. And bacon. They had used the last this morning.

  “Marian?” Dorothy Pepin barreled out of the paper-products aisle. “I’m glad I caught up with you. Did you have a good time at the teachers’ party last night?”

  For a second Marian was nonplussed. How did Dorothy know! But of course she didn’t know. Dorothy was just asking a friendly question.

  “It was fine,” Marian answered, picking up two rolls of paper towels. “Noisy, crowded, the usual stuff. It looks like you’re stocking up for vacation.”

  “Oh, my, yes!” Dorothy smiled. “I’m experimenting with tofu this week at home. I decided we should have a Chinese unit for the seniors. It’s the in food right now. I’m asking the school board for a wok.”

  Marian glanced down at Dorothy’s basket. It was filled with Chinese cabbage, water chestnuts, and a variety of sprouts. Some of the greens weren’t green, and the sprouts looked limp and wilted. It was just like Dorothy to schedule a Chinese unit in the middle of the winter. Produce was expensive this time of year, and the quality was terrible.

  “Oh, there’s Drew!” Dorothy pointed toward the front of the store. “I have to catch up with him to say good-bye. He’s leaving tomorrow, you know.”

  Yes, she knew. Marian watched Dorothy hurry down the aisle. She pushed her own cart around a display of Wheat Thins and stood there, shaking. She couldn’t bear to face him. She’d stand right here and read her grocery list until he left.

  The floor was muddy, and her boots were dripping. Marian hated the Red Owl in the winter. There was no way they could keep the floor clean. Customers tramped in dirt and snow, and the wheels of the shopping carts left streaks of grime on the ivory tiled floor. Why didn’t they have a brown floor? At least it wouldn’t look so bad.

  She peeked out once while Betty was cashing Drew’s check. A few moments later he left, a six-pack of Coke tucked under his arm. Marian pushed her cart back out into the aisle and took a deep breath. She was acting like a child, hiding this way, but he probably didn’t want to face her, either. Thank goodness he was gone!

  Snow was blowing against the plate-glass windows as she finished her shopping and pushed her cart to the front of the store. There were six people in front of her, and Marian stood impatiently, glancing at her watch. There was only one checker, and this was a busy time of year. Someone really should complain about the service. Poor Dan was probably waiting in the parking lot by now.

  The new electronic price sensor was out again. Marian heard Betty call out for a price check. Computerized checking might be a wave of the future, but Marian thought it took longer than the old way.

  “Hi, Mrs. Larsen. How are you today?” Betty reached in the cart and slid the items over the glass sensor. “Oh, no! There it goes again. Ralph? I need a price check on Schilling garlic salt, small size!”

  Marian didn’t see him come in. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Sheriff Bates. He was puffing hard, as if he’d been running.

  “Do me a favor, Betty. Ring up Mrs. Larsen’s groceries, and send them over to the house. Marian, I need you to come with me for a minute.”

  Marian felt a cold chill as she looked up into the sheriff’s eyes. Something had happened! Was it Dan?

  Her legs were shaking as he led her to the door. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she couldn’t speak.

  “I just got a call from the hospital, Marian.” Sheriff Bates held her arm. “There was an accident at the hockey rink.”

  “No!” She had found her voice at last. Not another accident! She staggered slightly as the sheriff helped her into his car. “Is Dan all right?”

  “I don’t know, Marian.” Sheriff Bates sounded sorry. “I got the call over my radio, and Tina didn’t have the details. I just know that the ambulance came and took Dan and Cliff to the hospital.”

  Marian turned to stare out the window as Sheriff Bates hit the siren and raced through town. It was a nightmare. It was all happening again. The snow was pelting against the glass exactly the way it had on the day Laura was killed!

  CHAPTER 11

  “Lower, Cliff . . . close to the ice!” Dan yelled at the top of his lungs. “If you want speed, keep your body low!”

  Cliff made another pass, and it was better. Dan shouted out encouragement from the sidelines. At first he’d dreaded the idea of getting all dressed up to come out here, but watching Cliff practice was pure pleasure. The kid was good, the best player he’d ever coached. If Cliff skated this well in the championship game, they had it made.

  Dan blew a sharp blast on his whistle, and Cliff stopped near the end of the rink.

  “We’d better start back now!” Dan hollered. “It’s almost four!”

  “Just one more run!” Cliff grinned at him. “Come on, Coach.... I’m just getting warmed up!”

  Dan nodded. He knew how Cliff felt. He used to plead for one more minute on the ice when he was a kid, too.

  The wind was rising now. Only moments ago the sun had streaked across the ice in patches of brilliance. Now storm clouds were building, and he could smell the snow. The inside of his nose tingled with the clean, cold scent, and Dan shook his head ruefully. No one from the South could ever understand how it was possible to smell snow in the air.

  Dan rubbed his hands together briskly and leaned forward, squinting across the rink. Cliff was coming now, low and fast, just as he had
taught him.

  He was almost at the goal line when he went down. Cliff’s left leg seemed to crumple, and then he was flat on the ice, hockey stick flying across the rink.

  “Jesus!” Dan yelled out. “What happened!”

  He expected Cliff to get up and grin, make some smart retort, brush the snow from his uniform, and try it again. But Cliff didn’t move.

  “Cliff!” Dan hollered out at the top of his lungs. “Are you all right?”

  There was no answer. Cliff was as still as death.

  Dan didn’t stop to consider. He knew he had to get out there. He grasped the wheels of his chair and shoved with all his might, trying to get over the mound of snow that lined the rink.

  There was a moment when the chair teetered, and he thought it would right itself, plow through the bank of snow and out onto the ice. But the snow was heavy, filled with chunks of ice. One wheel was hung up on the hard-packed snow. Dan gave a strong push with his arms, but his balance was gone. The wheelchair toppled, and he fell awkwardly, sprawling out on the frozen rink.

  He gave a groan as his head hit the ice. For one dreadful moment he thought he would pass out from the pain. He was dizzy, the trees swimming around him in a tilting circle, but at last his head cleared. He had to get to Cliff!

  Dan prayed that his legs would work, that suddenly he would be able to walk. He tried to pull himself forward across the slick, frozen surface, twisting his body in an awkward crab-like motion. His legs hung as useless ballast behind him, dragging and scraping as he attempted to inch his way closer. There were agonized moments when he made no forward motion at all.

  It was no use. Dan felt panic set in, and he pushed it away. He had to use his head. Cliff had fallen like a rock. The boy could be bleeding. He had to get there somehow!