I ate a burger while standing up, preferring this to squeezing into a table with strangers. Suddenly, I felt very much like I was in school. I never fit into the cafeteria crowd there, either. Scanning the faces, I tried to pick out someone, anyone, who looked like a kidnapper, but I knew it was hopeless. Everyone sat in clusters, as if they knew each other.
Finished with my meager meal, I entered the restroom, holding my breath as long as I could. It was typically smelly and repulsive, and I couldn’t get out fast enough. I didn’t even brush my teeth.
My sour breath matched my sour outlook. Answers were here, somewhere, but I didn’t know what questions to ask, or who to ask. It was as I studied the line of people for the rental counter that Wayne’s words replayed in my mind. “When I left, Max was about to leave, too. As soon as he returned the board he’d rented.”
So I strode up to the rental counter line and fought the urge to cut to the front.
By the time it was my turn, I’d had plenty of time to plan my words. “Hi, I have a question,” I said perkily to the hefty girl wearing a lime-green, tasseled ski hat. “I’m hoping you can help me because this is very important.” Behind her, I glimpsed the bubblegum-chomping blond who’d caught my eye in the cafeteria. I sensed she was eavesdropping.
I lowered my voice. “My brother came snowboarding here yesterday and he rented a board. Do you have any way of knowing if he returned it?”
“Why do you want to know? Ya think he stole it?”
“No.” I couldn’t help noticing a faint mustache-like shadow on the girl’s upper lip. “I—do you remember seeing him? He looks like me.”
“Yesterday? I wasn’t even working rentals. And ya think I remember every person who comes by here? I see hundreds of new faces a day.” She crossed her arms. “Look, you’re holding up the line,” she said in a megaphone voice, so that the whole line heard and began to grumble behind me. “I can tell ya this: No boards were reported stolen—”
“Then do you at least know who was working rentals yesterday? Please, it’s very important. I need to know if anyone saw my brother, and how late he—”
“I’m not here to answer those kind of questions.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re acting like you think you’re a detective, but I don’t see any badge. If you’re not here to rent a board, step aside.”
I touched my tongue to the bottom of my front teeth and pressed hard. “Thank you,” I enunciated slowly, trying to remain calm, then moved away.
“Hey, over here.”
I turned to see the blond gum-chewer motioning me to a corner, near a garbage can.
Irritated by my recent failure, I blurted, “Gum chewing is a disgusting habit.”
She gave me a wide-eyed stare. “But I chew it to freshen my breath.”
I shook my head, ashamed of myself. Since when had I become so rude? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay. I actually kind of agree with you. I’d prefer to just brush my teeth, but seriously . . .” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Have you been in these bathrooms?”
She had a point. I glanced at the overflowing garbage a few feet away and wrinkled my nose as I took a step back. “Your janitors don’t do a very good job, do they?”
“It’s not their fault, really. They’re just short-handed this week because the day guy quit suddenly. The night guy works hard, but junk just sorta piles up during the day, you know?” She shrugged. “The cafeteria crew will get it eventually.”
“Aren’t you cafeteria crew?”
She smiled. “I’m all over the place. I help with anything. Anything but the garbage, that is. I let the guys handle that.” She grimaced briefly, then smiled as she studied my face. “So you’re his sister, aren’t you?” She said it not as a question, but with a touch of awe. “I could tell you were Max’s sister the moment I saw you.”
“You know him?” Steady, I warned my jumping heart. I read her nametag: Cindy.
“Not really.” She blushed. “I’d love to, though. He’s so cute.” She gave a giddy laugh, reminding me of Gwen. “He’s been coming here a lot lately. I was hoping he’d be here today. I heard you at the rental counter, asking those questions, so I thought I’d help you out. I worked rentals yesterday. Max did return his board, of course. He always does. We chatted a little longer than last time, and I almost thought he was going to ask me out for New Year’s.” Cindy tugged at a strand of hair. “I was afraid he got the wrong impression when I told him I had plans, but I can’t break tradition. My dad and I always celebrate New Year’s by drinking root beer floats and watching The Three Stooges. But it would sound dumb if I tried to explain it.”
She paused in chewing her gum to nibble her lip. “Please don’t think I’m nosy, but does he have a girlfriend?” She took a deep breath, then popped a bubble.
“No.”
She beamed a smile so radiant, I knew she’d willingly answer my questions. “What time did Max return his board?”
“Oh, sometime before five.”
“Was he alone?”
She nodded. “But not when he got here in the morning. He was with a friend, some guy.”
Right, Wayne. I filed this information away and prodded for more. “After Max returned his board, did you see where he went, or if anyone followed him?”
She shook her head. “I wish I knew.” She blushed again. “I wanted to watch him, but I had to help other people.” Suddenly her eyes grew round and fearful, as if the oddity of my questions finally registered. “So why do you need to know all this? Is Max lost or something?” Her voice went up a notch. “Are the police looking for him?”
“No, it’s not like that.” I was wary of giving too much information. “But if you happen to see him anywhere, could you give me a call?”
“Of course.” She whipped out a pink phone and added my name and number. “Nice meeting you, by the way. Maybe we could hang out sometime.”
The statement threw me. It wasn’t one I heard often. “Maybe. Thanks for your help.”
“No prob. Your brother’s awesome.”
“I know.” I also knew that, like other girls before, she was trying to reach Max through me. Only this time, I didn’t mind.
“I hope you and Max come back here soon.”
“I hope so, too.”
“Cindy, break’s over!” someone hollered.
Cindy rolled her eyes. “Duty calls,” she said before disappearing.
I thrust my hands in my coat pockets and moved toward the large cafeteria window, frustrated that my investigation was giving me so little. Outside, the sky was darkening, spilling blue shadows on the glittering snow. I hated to think of another day passing with no real progress. I frowned as I watched people riding the open lifts, dangling high above the hill as they glided up out of sight. Max had sat on one of those seats only twenty-four hours ago. I pictured him in his navy blue coat, the stripe of black on the sleeves, and I saw it all so vividly.
In fact, I saw it for real. I scrambled closer to the window and almost pressed my nose to the chill glass. Yes, someone riding up the lift definitely looked like Max.
I darted outside. Knowing full well I’d never get a ride up without a ticket, I bypassed the lift. My attempt at running up the snow-packed hill was just that, an attempt. My stiff boots, the slope, and cumbersome snow forced me to trudge along the tree-line, but I still had to be alert for skiers and snowboarders sailing my way.
I watched for the blue-coated snowboarder to come cruising down the hill, but my eyes stung and watered in the cold, obscuring my vision, and the increasing shadows didn’t help. All too soon, I was panting, and my muscles burned.
By the time I reached the hilltop, all sunlight was gone. Large spotlights bleached the snow. Huffing, I leaned against a tree while a quick survey told me that there were three different routes downhill: An easy path, marked with a green square sign; an intermediate slope (which I’d just trudged up), marked with a blue
circle sign; and an expert slope—meaning steep and dangerous—marked with a black diamond.
Distancing myself from the diamond slope, I took a step toward where the lift chairs swooped low to let the riders off, planning to watch for a little while in hopes of spotting the blue-coated snowboarder again. It can’t be Max. But if it is, I’ll be happy I was wrong. Grandfather can tell me, “I told you so,” and I won’t care. As long as Max is safe.
Through my wool hat, I heard the mechanical whirring and squeaking of the ski lift cable above. I turned my head upward just as someone yelled, “Look out!”
I dodged the first snowboarder leaving the lift, but was sideswiped by a second one and knocked to my knees. I looked up just in time to see him cruise toward the expert slope and disappear abruptly over the crest, as if it were a cliff.
I scurried out of the path of others dismounting the ski lift, and the blue-coated snowboarder I’d been watching for glided by, slowing momentarily. “You all right?”
“Yes,” I answered weakly. “Thanks for asking.”
He sailed off and I sighed. He was round-faced and at least thirty. Not Max.
Deciding to call it a night, I set off on the easy slope, a wide, gently winding tree-fringed path. My kind of ski slope. I expected plenty of skiers to pass me by, but none did. Glimpsing behind me, I realized I was completely alone on this oversized trail. I swallowed a cold lump in my throat and quickened my pace. Every shadow on my right and left seemed to shiver and jump. My heartbeat quickened as something occurred to me. I wouldn’t recognize the kidnapper if I saw him, but he would recognize me, Max’s twin, easily.
That’s when I saw him. A dark, solitary figure standing in the trees to my right, just waiting for me to reach him. I skidded to a stop, almost falling, then whirled and ran to my left, into the trees. I jumped a fallen branch and scrambled through crackling brush, emerging onto a much steeper slope. In fact, this was almost a sheer drop. The black diamond hill.
My momentum was too much, and I fell, limbs tangling and twisting. Amidst the whirling light and dark, and the ice flecks biting my cheeks, I felt a sharp pain. But I was tumbling so fast that I couldn’t identify the location of the pain. I rolled like an acrobat, and I had a crazy vision of myself becoming buried in the center of a giant snowball, like in a cartoon. But it wasn’t funny. I’d freeze to death. No, I’d suffocate first.
With a thud, I finally stopped rolling. I opened my eyes to a hazy purple sky, the color of a giant bruise, and groaned.
“Are you all right?” demanded a voice that was suddenly above me. I stared up into a black ski-masked face. Was it the same menacing figure that had been waiting for me in the trees?
I closed my eyes.
“Can you hear me?”
Maybe if I pretend to be dead, he’ll leave me alone.
He crouched beside me and I heard static. He called for help, and I realized he was talking into a radio.
I groaned again, but not because of the pain. I’m so stupid. He’s not a kidnapper; he’s ski patrol. I took a deep breath and moved up to a sitting position. “I don’t need help, really. Thanks anyway, but I can make it from here.” I struggled to stand, and clenched my teeth. The pain in my ankle wasn’t severe, but I’d be feeling it tonight.
“Just sit and wait for your ride,” the guy said, none too kindly. “What the heck were you thinking, jumping off the edge of the slope like that?”
I felt my face flush. “I guess I got scared.”
“What? Of me?” The guy stood and plucked off his mask. “That a little less scary?”
I stared mutely at the shaggy red hair, dark eyes, and broad boney nose.
“Maybe not.” He shrugged, then pointed to a badge. “I’m on the ski patrol. What did you think you were doing? Being a reckless hazard, that’s what. Especially to yourself. You don’t even have a ticket and skis, and you probably broke your ankle.”
“It’s just twisted,” I said, attempting once more to stand.
The guy put a firm hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down. “Stay off it. The stretcher will be here any second.” Sure enough, the emergency snowmobile roared up moments later with a long sled-like stretcher on the back.
As it turned out, I was right. My ankle was only twisted. “It’s not too severe, but you should still try to stay off it and ice it,” I was told. “Anyone you want us to call?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” I hobbled back to my car. As I pressed the accelerator, I was grateful that the twisted ankle wasn’t my right one.
I arrived home to find Gwen and Joy gone. It’s just as well. I didn’t feel like reliving the unsuccessful and humiliating day by describing it to them.
I entered the large kitchen, shining coldly with its stainless steel appliances, and headed to the fridge to see what our cook had left for me. A covered china plate held a generous slice of roast beef, green beans smothered in hollandaise sauce, and garlic mashed potatoes drowning in mushroom gravy.
Suddenly famished, I zapped the food in the microwave, then sat on an upholstered stool at the marble counter. I swirled the seat this way and that as I ate, nervous and fidgety. The house was too large and quiet. All the help had gone home for the night, and all I heard was the relentless ticking of the grandfather clock.
Grandfather. Not who I wanted to think about right now.
My appetite gone, I limped tediously through the mansion, checking that all doors and windows were locked, all the blinds closed. Usually this ritual made me feel cozy, and with the peace of having the place to myself, I would have savored the time to curl up and work a crossword puzzle in the overstuffed chair that Gwen usually claimed.
Tonight I went through the motions but the sense of security was lacking. Tonight the crossword squares stayed blank, and I actually began nibbling my pencil. As if sensing my unsettled mood, even Mitsy the cat avoided me.
I’m not nervous, I told myself, but then the mansion began making noises that I’d never heard before, and I began wondering what I would do if the kidnapper came for me. I knew I shouldn’t entertain such irrational thoughts, but darkness and solitude were skillful at canceling common sense.
As if I’d be any safer if Gwen and Joy were home, I thought, attempting to lighten my mood. They’d probably open the door wide and invite the kidnapper in for a makeover.
Though I knew it was childish, I pulled an iron poker from the fireplace and carried it upstairs with me. When I went to bed, I slipped it under the sheets and fell asleep hugging it, the way I used to hug my stuffed unicorn.
Maybe it was Gwen and Joy arriving home that woke me; but when I listened, all I heard was silence—a prickly silence, the kind that plays a game, seeing who will break it first.
I lay in bed, listening for something, and all the horrible kidnapping cases I’d ever heard came creeping back to me, accounts of people never being found, or worse—turning up in a sack, at the bottom of a lake, buried in a woods or in someone’s backyard or basement.
Then there was the disturbing fact that most kidnapping victims were killed within the first twenty-four hours. Not a comforting statistic.
Thinking back on the day, guilt crept in. What a jerk I’d been to Cindy, and how nice and helpful she had been to me in return. But everyone else had been so uncaring. It’s a rotten world.
I recollected how Grandfather had termed me an idiot, a pest, and tiresome; Donnelly accused me of having an attitude and being defensive; and the ski patrol worker had called me a reckless hazard.
They’re all correct, I admitted, but they forget one:
Failure.
Because I was able to snuggle into a warm, safe bed, while Max was still out there somewhere, cold and afraid, relying on me to save him.
If he was even still alive.
I buried my head in my pillow and cried.
Chapter Six
When I awoke, it was morning, and I must have been in a deep sleep because I saw the iron poker had fallen out of bed during the n
ight and the noise hadn’t disturbed me. I stepped over it and tested my ankle. Tender, but ignorable. No way was I staying off my foot today. I showered, threw on my clothes, and hurried across the street to Grandfather’s.
Only when I reached the gate, did I remember today was Sunday. So I told the guard I was going to Mass, and he let me through with no hassle. A faint hymn wafted to my ears as I approached the little stone building.
I hesitated in the chapel vestibule, glancing down at my jeans and boots. True, the jeans weren’t dirty, frayed, or adorned with colors or holes, and my black boots looked brand new; but this was not what Grandfather would consider proper attire for attending Mass. Even from here, I could see that the women—hired help, I assumed—were all wearing long skirts, dark coats, and veils or hats to cover their hair.
I pulled my wool cap down tight around my cold ears, thankful for it. Without it, I would have been expected to borrow a head veil out of a basket which had been provided by Grandfather for just such an emergency. I remembered how, back before he’d had this ingenious idea, I once had to wear a tissue on my head. Max had kept grabbing it and pretending to blow his nose on it. Now, respectful as I wished to be in church, I couldn’t get past the thought of putting something on my head that had been worn by countless strangers.
During the sermon, the way Father Selton spoke about religion being more than an outward show, and that in order to get anything out of it you had to give, made me pray Grandfather had his hearing aid turned up full volume.
I could tell Grandfather was still angry at me, because after Mass he didn’t mention my unsuitable clothing. He simply said, “You again,” while charging past me and barreling through the church doors. “Have you come to apologize for Maxwell, who’s too cowardly to come himself and ask for forgiveness?”
Ask? Yesterday it was beg. Are you softening? “He’s not back. But I am, and I need you to listen.” I hurried to keep up with Grandfather’s stalking strides, and I wondered how he could walk that way on the icy drive without slipping. Probably because it was his ice and it wouldn’t dare slip him; he’d have workers outside in seconds, blasting it away with blowtorches. It had no qualms about sabotaging me, however. My feet flew out from under me and I landed with a painful thud.
Frozen Footprints Page 5
