His Frozen Heart

by Nancy Straight

  We sat there with our pinkies linked together. I didn’t want to let her go. I wished it were already Saturday. The not knowing was killing me. I could take any curve ball her condition dictated, but the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring was excruciating. I leaned down close to her ear, “I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon as soon as I get off work. It’s okay if you wake up before I get here. Just wake up.”

  There was no response at all. “Larry has been in the waiting room since they brought you here. I still think he’s a loser, but if you wondered, I’m pretty sure he loves you. He has only left the hospital a few times to change clothes and shower. If you. . .” I corrected myself, “when you wake up: I won’t give you a hard time if you want to see him again.” I squeezed her hand through the blanket draped over her. “I’ll never give you a hard time about anything again – just open your eyes. You’re more of a sister to me than Kim or Carly. I love you, Libby.”

  She didn’t react to anything I said, and I could no longer take it. I hurried out of her room, deposited the scrubs in the used bin and hurried into the waiting room. Larry looked hopeful as I rushed through the doors, but I shook my head, a silent answer that she was still in her coma. My one-sided conversation with Libby had taken everything I had not to break down into a blubbering mess. As much as I wanted to leave without trying to speak, Larry stood up and walked toward me. I held up a hand, and choked out, “I’ll be back after work tomorrow.” I squeezed his forearm and reassured him, “She’s going to wake up. I know it.” Ducking my head, I walked away. I didn’t want to consider the possibility that I was wrong, or any of the other possibilities.

  I drove back to Dave’s. The place was still dark from the curb. I got out of my car to look and see if there was any hint of movement inside. As I attempted to see through the blind on the front door of Dave’s garage, it looked like he wasn’t here, or if he were inside, he wanted to be alone. How had things gone wrong so quickly?

  He was different from all the other guys I knew. He let his guard down with me, letting me see the real Dave, right up until the second he believed I had betrayed him. I knew why he was so hurt. If I were him, I would be furious with me, too. Just because I understood his reaction, I still hoped he might forgive my lapse in judgment.

  I knocked on the front door of Dave’s garage, but again, there was no answer. I tried calling his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. I had called several times today, but I hadn’t left any messages. When I heard his voice asking me to leave a message, words began spilling out of me. “Hey, it’s Candy. I know you don’t want to see me. I don’t blame you. If I could do it over, I swear I would have told you about Mark right away. I just got swept away by you last night. I know it was selfish. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect the candles, or your tattoo, or to feel the way I do about you. You have my number. You once told me you live your life by expecting the worst and hoping for the best. So, I guess I’ll hope one day you can forgive me. Bye.” I almost hung up, but added, “If I don’t talk to you again, thanks. I’m glad I finally got to meet the real Dave. I’ll never forget you.”

  From Dave’s garage I decided to hit the college library and do some searching. I tried everything I could find to try to locate Mark Brewer on the internet. Phone records, public utilities, property searches: each Mark Brewer I located was either too old or too young or in the wrong state. By eleven PM I was exhausted, and the library was getting ready to close.

  I couldn’t go back to my house. I hadn’t heard from the police all day, but it was too late to knock on Mrs. Bavcock’s door even if they had concluded I was no longer a person of interest. I considered driving back to Dave’s place, but decided against it. I had friends who stayed at the dorms on campus, but it was Friday night and none would be home yet. It was too cold to sleep in my car. I was quickly running out of options, and Motel 6 looked like it might end up a reality.

  A thought occurred to me that there was one person who might let me stay. I did an internet search and found the number. I hated to do it, but short of getting a motel room that I didn’t have money for, I was coming up empty. A surprisingly friendly voice answered the phone for such a late hour. I took a deep breath and answered, “Hi, this is Candy Kane. I’m sorry to call so late. Is Mr. Kravitz home?”

  Mr. Kravitz was quick to agree to let me camp in his guest room for the night. When I arrived it was close to midnight. It must have been eating at him all day, because I had barely crossed the threshold when he asked, “What happened with you and Dave this morning?”

  There was no reason to hide anything from him. “I saw Mark last night.”

  He tried to correct me. “You mean Tuesday night?”

  “Then, too. I ran into him at the parking lot of Bank Shot before I went to Dave’s last night. Mark thought Dave was dead. When I told him he lived here, he wouldn’t meet him.”

  “You told Dave the brother he has been looking for most of his life doesn’t want to see him?”

  “No! I told him what Mark told me to tell him: he was tying up some loose ends and he would find him soon.” Mr. Kravitz gave me a disapproving stare. I explained, “I tried to get Mark to call him. I told him I’d get Dave on the phone if he wouldn’t meet him, but he said no. He told me he would find him when he was ready.”

  “What loose ends?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.” I paused, remembering what Tony had said. “I think Mark might be a big time criminal. Someone told me he’s really dangerous and to keep away from him.”

  “Did you tell Dave?”

  I shook my head. “Not in those words.” I felt awful about the whole situation, especially about not telling Dave right away. “I don’t know anything about Mark. If I’m wrong, I don’t want Dave to think badly of him, but if I’m right, I don’t want Dave hurt, either.” I wanted to add that I knew first hand that Mark has a propensity for violence when he’s angry, but chose to keep that tidbit of information to myself.

  Mr. Kravitz shook his head in frustration, “Dave hasn’t returned any of my calls all day. I locked up the garage at five o’clock, but he didn’t come back.”

  I confessed, “I drove by the shop: there weren’t any lights on. Where do you think he went?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like him. I’ve got keys, we can go over tomorrow and check on him.” He looked at my backpack still slung over my shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you settled in, and we can come up with a plan in the morning.” Mr. Kravitz led me to a guest room with ivory walls. The bed was soft; it was draped with a comforter depicting green ivy in an ornate pattern all over it. Matching curtains hung from the single rectangular window. The carpet was a thick pile under my toes. For such a welcoming room, I couldn’t wait to close my eyes and forget everything that had happened today.

  Nightmares consumed my night: Grey’s face smiling at me through the glass at the gas station, Teddy standing over Libby’s body at the hospital, but worst of all was the agony on Dave’s face when I told him over and over his brother didn’t want to see him. I woke up to sun pouring in through the curtains while I was utterly exhausted.

  When I awoke Saturday morning, I was grateful for the place to stay, but it was time to get my life back. It had been three full days since my house was declared a crime scene. That should have been more than enough time to gather whatever evidence may have been there. It was early, so I made the bed, put on a clean set of clothes from my backpack, and tiptoed down the hallway.

  I could hear a television in a room adjacent to the kitchen. I chose not to follow the noise, instead I found a note pad and scribbled a quick thank-you on it for letting me use their guest room. As I started for the door, a high-pitched voice startled me, “It’s not nice to leave without saying good-bye.”

  I turned toward the voice and was struck by the angelic face scowling at me. The photograph on Mr. Kravitz’s phone hadn’t done the little girl justice. Her face was round with enormous blue eyes and pouty lips. The blond ringlets
hung at her shoulders as she stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake your parents. You must be Emily. It’s great to meet you. I’m Candy.”

  Her little blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You weren’t here when I went to bed.”

  “No. Your parents let me stay in the guest room last night.”

  She considered this for a second, then told me, “You haven’t eaten breakfast. When I stay at Beth’s house, I always stay for breakfast.”

  “Um, I usually just have coffee for breakfast, and I don’t want to wake your parents.”

  Emily went to a cupboard to the left of the refrigerator and grabbed a canister of coffee and a coffee filter. “Here you go. I don’t know how much to put in.”

  She stood beside me as I put in enough for a fresh pot and pressed the start button. Within seconds the aroma filled the air of the kitchen. She continued watching me as I stood by the coffee brewer. Finally she asked, “You stayed in Dave’s room. Do you know Dave?”

  “I do. He’s a friend of mine.”

  A sad look shown on her face, “You don’t have a momma, either?”

  Taken aback at her logic, I answered, “I have one. She lives in New Mexico with Dad.”

  After considering my answer for a minute, she volunteered, “Momma says not everyone has a mom. All my friends at school have moms. None of them live in New Mexico, but one lives in California.”

  “Then your friends are really lucky.”

  I poured myself a cup of the fresh coffee in a mug. I kept glancing toward the doorway every few seconds to see if our exchange had awakened Mr. or Mrs. Kravitz. When my mug was drained, I smiled back at Emily, “Thank you for breakfast and for letting me borrow Dave’s room last night. I need to get to the hardware store before I go to work. Tell your parents I said thanks, okay?”

  “Okay.” Having completed her hostess duties, she smiled and walked me to the front door. She offered, “Bundle up, it’s cold out today.”

  “I will. I hope to see you again soon.”

  “Dave doesn’t use his room anymore. You can come back tonight if you want. But Aunt Jean needs the room when she comes to town, so you can’t put any posters on the wall.”

  I smiled at her. There was something about this girl. I could see how she could have easily broken through Dave’s defenses when I had failed. “Okay. If I come back, I won’t bring any posters.”

  While I sat in my car waiting for it to warm up, I called Officer Brown. He confirmed that the police were done collecting evidence, so I could indeed return to my house today. He also told me that all charges against Dave had been dropped. Officer Brown told me there was some pending disciplinary action for the police officer who had accused Dave of assault during his escape from the hospital. I thanked him and hung up.

  The thought of sleeping in the big house by myself was not all that appealing, but I didn’t want to take advantage of Mr. Kravitz. I doubted Dave would welcome seeing me any time soon. Before I pulled away from the curb in front of Mr. Kravitz’s house, I tried calling Dave. It went right to voicemail. I didn’t want to come off like a stalker, especially after the long message I had left for him last night. “It’s me. Um, the doctors are supposed to wake up Libby this afternoon. I’ll be at the restaurant today, then the hospital after. I just wanted you to know where I was if you were looking for me. Bye.”

  Tossing the phone in my purse, I drove to a hardware store. If I was staying at my house, I was going to need a little better lock than the ones I had now.

  A half-hour later I was at my house. When I opened the front door, an envelope had been jammed under the door. Libby’s name was on the envelope with a big smiley face drawn next to her name. If it were a get well card, I’d take it with me, but since it hadn’t been mailed, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a message from a friend who hadn’t heard what had happened. I took it to the kitchen and opened it up. It was a thank-you card from Jayson, a guy she worked with, accompanied by three hundred dollars. I knew I shouldn’t read it, but I couldn’t stop myself. It said: “Thanks for the loan on Monday. If you hadn’t have helped me, I would have lost my car. I owe you big time. Thanks for not telling anyone. Jayson”

  My vision clouded as tears threatened to escape. When I accused her of blowing her whole paycheck, she had let me believe she had been irresponsible rather than telling me she had loaned her money to a friend. That was just like Libby: twelve dollars in her coffee can, and she had loaned everything else she had to someone she believed needed the money more than she did. I sat at the kitchen table re-reading the thank-you note several times. Each time only made me feel worse.

  When I rose from the chair to put the money in her coffee can, I saw there was over two hundred dollars in it already. She had given Chris money at Bank Shot and bought groceries Tuesday night – the rest of Teddy’s money was safely tucked away. Why wouldn’t she have given the money she had to Grey when he showed up? Had she denied she had it? Why wouldn’t she have handed the whole thing over? Had she told Grey I had the money?

  I had seen the living room and the aftermath of what had happened to Libby when I stopped by with the police officer Wednesday morning. I wanted to avoid the room. I didn’t want to see the blood-soaked sofa again. I filled up the sink with food encrusted dishes that had set on the stove all week. I washed, dried, and put them away, glancing over my shoulder several times at the ominous living room. My hands grabbed the dishrag to wipe down the counters while the dishwater drained.

  Reluctantly, I walked out of the kitchen and stood in the doorway to the living room where Grey had attacked her. The tan sofa had several pieces cut out of it, no doubt gathered for evidence. Two very bloody patches had been cut out of the carpet, as well.

  I slid down the doorway, my back braced against it, unable to move as my eyes took in the horrific sight. I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the place where Libby had nearly been killed. Unable to stand, I crawled over on my hands and knees to where the attack had happened. My hand smoothed over the carpet caked with dried blood. It was thick and hard, feeling like dried paint under my fingers.

  There was so much blood. It was dry and the carpet and couch that had been soft before were both hard to touch and gruesome to see. I remembered glancing into the room as I ran out of the house Tuesday night; Libby looked like she had fallen asleep in front of the television. Why hadn’t I gone in and told her to go to bed? Why hadn’t I gotten out of my own bed when she called for my help? If she died, it would be because I hadn’t prevented it. I hadn’t helped her when she needed me.

  I couldn’t leave the sofa in the house. I needed to get it out. I couldn’t bear to look at any of it. I pushed the sofa out of the living room, through the kitchen, the entryway, and on to the front porch. Trash day was Monday, but it was too large for pickup. I started to walk back inside, but I couldn’t leave the couch out for the world to see. She deserved better. I went back inside and grabbed my coat, hat and gloves, then dragged it through the snow to the backyard.

  When it was in the center of the backyard, away from everything else, I doused it with gasoline from a can in the garage and set it on fire. I was sure one of my neighbors would probably call the fire department, but I didn’t care. I stood there watching it burn as the flames enveloped every inch of it. When one of my neighbors stepped into her back yard, I waved my hand but offered no explanation of the bonfire I had started. In this moment I wished for Grey’s face to appear around the corner of my house. The rage inside me grew with every bit of flame that flew into the air. He wouldn’t get away with this.

  As the flames died down and the springs were visible, I turned away from it, then returned to the house. I opened a drawer in the kitchen, took out a knife, then cut every bit of the carpeting and padding that had blood stains on it. I ripped the carpet free of the floor, took it outside and threw it on the still smoldering sofa. I poured more accelerant on the fire and watched the flames
dance high again.

  I spoke into the fire, willing my words to find my nemesis, “Stop by for a visit now, Grey. You’ll pay for this.”

  After the flames died down and I was satisfied that no part of anything Grey had touched still remained, I went inside again. Hopefully Mom wouldn’t try to surprise me for a visit until after I had replaced her sofa and carpet.

  Two hours later I was sitting on the floor by my front door frustrated beyond belief. My phone rang in the kitchen as I scrambled up off of the floor to retrieve it from my purse. I caught it on the third ring, hoping to hear Dave’s voice on the other end. I tried to hide my disappointment when I heard Kravitz. “Why’d you leave so early this morning?”

  I sighed into the phone, “The police said I could have my house back today. I thought I’d install some floor deadbolts, but I can’t get the stupid hole I drilled to line up with the lock in the door, and I have to be at work in an hour.” I didn’t bother to mention my bonfire in the back yard.

  “I’ve got some time. I can help you with them.”

  “Seriously?”

  “What, you think I’m only handy with cars? I’ll be over in ten minutes. You still live on Elm?”

  How did Kraviz know where I lived? He’d never been here. “Uh, yeah. Car’s out front.”

  True to his word, ten minutes after we hung up, he was standing at my front door inspecting my work. “Yikes, Candy. You suck at this.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Kravitz. Like I hadn’t figured that out for myself.”

  He shook his head at me, “Go get ready for work. I’ll finish up here.”

  Tentatively I said, “There are two more exterior doors if you’re feeling ambitious.”

  Chuckling at my ineptness with hand tools, he directed, “Go. I’ve got this.”

  I bounded up a few of the stairs when the wave of discomfort hit me again. My eyes narrowed as I saw him cutting a new hole in the floor. I didn’t get an ax murderer vibe from him, but after everything that had happened the last few days, I didn’t want to be naïve, either. “Hey, how did you know where I lived anyway?”