Chilling Effect (An Aroostine Higgins Novel Book 2)

by Melissa F. Miller

  “I head-butted him.” She had never done such a thing, but after prosecuting a felony murder case in which a suspected drug dealer had head-butted the arresting officer, who fell, hitting his head on the ground and sustaining a subdural hematoma, she knew the physics behind an effective head butt.

  “Whoa.”

  “Listen, Joe. Really, we can’t stay on the phone.”

  “How are we going to get you out of there?”

  “I think I have an idea. But first make those calls.” She cocked her head, listening for any sound from downstairs. Silence.

  “I will. Roo?”

  “Yes?” She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice. Why wouldn’t he just hang up already?

  “I love you.” His voice cracked as if he were crying.

  She stopped pacing and pressed her forehead against the wall. “And I love you.” She waited a beat, just listening to his ragged breathing on the other end of the phone, and then couldn’t wait any longer. She ended the call.

  She pocketed the phone and stared up at the drop ceiling in the hallway. It looked to be the same as the one on the first floor—a collection of inexpensive pop-up tiles that hid the wires, pipes, and other house guts inside. Just like Grandfather’s house.

  She had been five years old. And her parents had left her at Grandfather’s house—again. But she couldn’t sleep because there was a loud rustling noise over her head. She’d squeezed her eyes shut for hours and pressed a pillow over her ears, but she could still hear it. Finally she’d padded across the hall to her grandfather’s room.

  In the moonlight streaming through the window, she could see him clearly. He was sleeping, his mouth slightly ajar.

  “Grandfather,” she’d whispered.

  His eyes opened immediately.

  “What is it, child?”

  She told him about the sound. He clicked on his bedside lamp and sat up. He slid his feet into the slippers lined up beside the bed and took her hand.

  They could hear the frantic noise from the hall outside the room in which she slept. She gripped his hand harder. He cocked his head, listening.

  “It’s a bird.”

  “Why is it trying to get in?”

  “It’s trying to get out,” he corrected her gently.

  He led her back into the bedroom and settled her in the bed. Then he turned on the light and walked in a slow square around the perimeter of the room. He completed one circuit and began another. A third of the way through, he stopped and stood at the foot of the bed. His presence was like a blanket of peace.

  She held her breath while he reached a hand up and popped out the square above his head. A terrified bluebird swooped into the room and made a rapid circle. She knelt on the bed and forced the window sash up. The bird circled again, squawking, and flew out the open window. The next morning, he took her out on the roof and showed her the hole near the fan vent. They’d patched it together.

  Now she just had to hope she could be as lucky as a bird.

  She followed the hallway to the small green-and-white bathroom at the end of the hall. She closed the toilet lid, stepped up on it, and steadied herself with a hand against the wallpapered wall. Then she pushed up on the ceiling tile overhead and slid it out. She climbed onto the toilet tank, gripped the corners of the space the missing tile had occupied, and hoisted herself up.

  She army crawled through a nest of foamy pink insulation and angled pipes. Her pulse was trapped in her throat, fluttering just as that bluebird’s wings had fluttered so long ago. She reached the end of the crawl space and smacked into a wall.

  She rubbed her cheek to stop the stinging and then raised herself to her feet. She straightened an inch at a time. The last thing she needed was another good crack on her head. She’d end up like Boom downstairs. When she was still bent at the waist, her hand hit the vent pipe that jutted out onto the roof.

  She pushed. Nothing.

  She pushed again, harder. The vent wiggled in her hand, but the roof tile held tight.

  Tears pricked at her eyes. She punched up with both hands. More wiggling, but still the tile held.

  Frustration and despair clawed at her. She was going to die like this. Boom was going to wake up and detonate the bomb in his rage.

  No. She might die here, but it wouldn’t be because she gave up. She owed it to Joe to keep fighting. Unbidden, the thought of their dog flitted into her mind. She owed it to Joe and Rufus.

  Think.

  She needed a tool. She dropped down to her hands and knees and slowly crawled backward to the opening she’d created. It felt like it took an hour, no, a week, to get there.

  Hurry.

  She jumped down and spun through the bathroom, surveying its contents. The towel bar would be ideal. She gripped it, two handed, and pulled but it was tightly affixed to the wall. She yanked harder but it didn’t yield.

  She wrenched open the narrow linen cabinet. Towels, washcloths, extra soap lined the shelves in neat rows.

  The cell phone chirped in her pocket. Joe.

  “What?”

  “I made all the calls. I’m outside Boom’s. Ruby’s with me. Where are you?”

  “I have access to the exhaust vent on the roof. But I can’t break through it. It wiggles but that’s all.” Her voice cracked, and a raw sob escaped.

  Cry when it’s over, she ordered herself.

  “Okay, let me think.”

  Twenty long seconds of silence ticked by.

  “Forget the vent. It’s going to be sturdier than the roof itself.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. Old house, not well constructed. Find a piece of ceiling tile that has air leaking through. It’ll be loose. And then go to town on it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try. Do it.”

  Another sob caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him she was terrified. She wanted to tell him to come save her. But no words came.

  She ended the call and pulled herself back up into the hot, cramped space, moving faster this time. She wiped sweat from her brow when she reached the end and crouched, running her hands overhead, feeling for air.

  There. A cool breeze tickled her fingers. She laughed.

  She lay on her back and braced her legs against the roof. Then she pulled them back to her knees and kicked out, like a jackknife, both feet kicking hard. She smashed into the roof.

  Wood splintered and a shingle fell sideways, hanging crookedly and letting sunlight flood over her. She blinked and turned her face to the sky. She hadn’t been sure she’d ever see it again. Hope bubbled up in her chest.

  She scrabbled out onto the roof and scanned the ground below in the fading daylight.

  Joe spotted her and waved his arms overhead, joy and relief beaming from his face like a ray. Ruby stood beside him, her face pale and drawn.

  Aroostine shuffled a little closer to the edge.

  “You’re not really going to jump, are you?” Joe yelled up to her.

  She shook her head. No, jumping was definitely Plan B. But she could climb like a squirrel.

  She worked her way to the spot where the gutter met the downspout and lowered herself onto the downspout. There was no way it would hold her weight, but she could use it to stabilize herself while she worked her way down the side of the house.

  As plans went, it was terrible. But it was the one she had.

  She jammed her fingers around the downspout and swung herself out so her feet dug into the crevice between two sheets of siding. With her free hand, she clung to the roof line. And then she started to back herself down one piece of vinyl siding at a time. She didn’t look down. She could hear Joe and Ruby calling to her. She couldn’t make out the words. She wanted to stop and listen to what they were saying. But she forced herself to keep moving.

  After the fourth panel of siding, the downspout groaned and pulled loose from the house. She let go of it and dug both hands into the siding, clinging to it with both arms and legs. She squeezed he
r eyes shut.

  “Let go. I’ll catch you,” Joe’s voice promised from below.

  It sounded closer than she dared hope. She opened one eye and craned her neck. She was probably nine feet from the ground.

  Just nine feet, she told herself. But she was frozen. She’d fallen out of trees higher than this as a kid. But she couldn’t peel her fingers off the side of the house.

  “Roo, listen to me. I promise, I’ll catch you. You have to trust me.”

  The break in his voice on the last two words tore her in half. Her husband was begging her to trust him.

  She closed her eyes and pictured herself falling, falling, and landing in Joe’s waiting arms.

  “Okay. On three.”

  “One.”

  She pulled her toes away from the house and let her feet dangle free.

  “Two.”

  She loosened her grip overhead.

  “Three.”

  She let go and allowed herself to fall. Down, down, down. And then she was jolted and jarred. She opened her eyes. Joe’s arms were wrapped around her torso. Tears shone in his eyes.

  It was over. She buried her face in his chest and breathed a ragged sigh.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Ruby and Lily pulled into the drop-off circle in Isaac’s Tercel a few minutes before Aroostine and Joe walked through the spotless glass doors with their wheeled suitcases on a luggage cart. Aroostine glanced at the car, but didn’t register who they were because they were so out of context. She was about to climb aboard the resort’s airport shuttle, when Joe yanked her arm back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He smiled and pointed at the red car. Lily was on her knees waving frantically out the window.

  “I think we’ve got a ride.”

  “Oh!” She grabbed her suitcase and hurried toward the car.

  Ruby popped the trunk and came around to help them load their bags.

  “This is a nice surprise,” Joe said.

  “Lily insisted we had to see you off. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Aroostine assured her. “We’re touched.”

  She grinned. “That’s a relief. I thought if I were you I’d never want to see anyone connected to White Springs ever again.” The grin faded, and Aroostine knew she was thinking of Boom.

  She rubbed Ruby’s shoulder in what she hoped was a consoling gesture. At least he would live to be judged. Sid had told her Carole had managed to talk him out of the house after a sixteen-hour standoff. By then, she and Joe were back at the resort, soaking in the oversized bathtub.

  “You’ll come back from this—the tribe will pull together.”

  Ruby blinked and plastered her smile back on. “Yeah, I’m sure we will. Let’s get you two to the airport.” She slammed shut the trunk and hopped back in the car.

  Joe sat in the passenger seat, and Aroostine joined Lily in the backseat. The girl’s nonstop chatter as she pointed out every sight worth seeing on the way to the airport—and more than a few that weren’t worth seeing—filled the car, sparing the adults from having to make conversation. She was bouncing and giggling the entire trip, but, as her mother slowed the car in front of the drop-off for Delta flights, she suddenly burst into tears.

  “Hey, Lily, it’s okay,” Aroostine soothed.

  Lily launched herself at Aroostine and squeezed her arms tight around her waist. The gesture surprised her, and she tensed, quickly recovered, and hugged the girl back.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Lily cried.

  “I’ll miss you, too. I don’t know any fairies back home,” she told her.

  That earned her a wan smile. She wiped the tears from Lily’s face.

  “Can I visit you—in Pennsylvania?”

  “If your mom says it’s okay, of course. Or you could even bring her with you,” Aroostine promised.

  Joe unbuckled his seat belt and peered over the headrest at them.

  “You can definitely come visit us, Lily, but I have a feeling you’ll be coming to Washington, DC,” Joe told her.

  Aroostine wasn’t sure whose eyes widened more—hers or Lily’s.

  “Where the president lives?”

  “Yep. Aroostine’s going to get a big promotion, but I know she’ll take a day off work to visit the White House with me and you. Right, Roo?” Joe nudged her.

  “Uh—tell you what. If you come visit us in Washington, we’ll try to swing a tour of the office where the president works,” she said slowly, her mind still trying to catch up. Could he be saying what she thought he was saying?

  “Really?” Lily’s tears were ancient history, as she squealed with excitement. “Can we go, Mom?” She caught Aroostine in another hug.

  “Someday, baby. Maybe over Thanksgiving break. Now let go of Aroostine’s neck so she can get out of the car before they miss their flight.”

  Ruby caught Aroostine’s eye in the rearview mirror and smiled.

  After another flurry of hugs, they lifted their bags out of the trunk and stood at the curbside waving good-bye to the mother and daughter.

  As the car went around a curve and disappeared from view, Joe slung an arm around her shoulder. He raised his wrist and checked his watch.

  “We have time for a drink before we board. I think your promotion merits a beer for me and some fruity concoction for you.”

  She wrinkled her brow but allowed him to lead her into the airport. Inside, they stopped at an electronic kiosk that spit out their boarding passes, and he consulted the directory of terminal side shops and restaurants.

  “Here we go—The Pineapple Man. That sounds like a place that will have an umbrella drink that’ll suit you.”

  As they glided up to the second floor on the crowded escalator, she leaned close to him.

  “This promotion and move back to DC you’re talking about, do you know something I don’t know?”

  “Maybe.” He tried to hide his smile but failed.

  He guided her toward a restaurant decorated like a tiki bar, and the smiling hostess bestowed them each with a plastic lei before leading them to a high top table for two.

  She left them with laminated flip book drink menus. Joe picked up his menu immediately and starting turning the pages.

  “No way.” She put her hand down on his menu and forced it back to the table. “Come on, what’s going on?”

  He rested his elbows on the table and leaned across it. “Fine. You’re no fun. Sid called me this morning while you were in the bath—”

  “He called you? Or he called me and you answered my phone?”

  “Well, counselor, I stand by my answer. He called me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. He went on, “Look, I mean, they’re DOJ-issued cell phones. It probably didn’t take a lot of brainpower to find me.”

  “True. But why?”

  Joe traced a circle on the table with his index finger. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I know you’re pretty private about, uh . . . everything. But I guess Sid got wind of your jackass husband who refused to honor his wedding vows and support your dream when you moved to DC for the job.”

  The sight of his downcast eyes and miserable expression tore at her heart. She covered her hand with his and squeezed his fingers.

  “Joe, I swear, I didn’t say anything negative about you—actually, I didn’t say anything at all about you.”

  “I know, Roo. Trust me, I know you play your cards close to your vest. Maybe Rosie said something or whatever. Listen, that’s not the point.”

  “Okay.”

  He looked up at her. “The point is, they want you back. And he wanted to talk to me first to make sure I understood how important this is.”

  Her stomach did a flip. A complete upside-down flip. First, it leapt up in excitement, then it lurched all the way around and landed somewhere near her toes.

  “I’m not sure I want to go back. You and Rufus aren’t cut out for city living. And maybe I’m not either. I don’t know. Besides, it’s pretty w
rong of Sid to go behind my back and talk to you first.”

  He weaved his fingers between hers.

  “Before you get yourself into a feminist tizzy, you should hear him out.”

  She tilted her head. “This must be some job if you’re trying to talk me into it.”

  “It is. And it’s perfect for you. You’d be working at the Department of Justice but in the Office of Tribal Affairs. They want to create an interagency thingy between the Criminal Division and Tribal Affairs where you would consult to a whole bunch of departments on Native American issues and tribal justice and then basically do what you just did at White Springs—you would swoop in and handle particularly sensitive prosecutions and, uh, stuff. You could help set up tribal courts where there aren’t any and train the judges and lawyers.”

  That did sort of sound like her dream job.

  It was a role she didn’t even know there was a need for a week earlier. And had she known about it, she would have scoffed at the idea of working with Native American tribes in that capacity. But now . . . now she wanted to pick up Carole Orr’s mantle and restore justice to her people.

  Her people.

  Even thinking of Native Americans that way was new. But what were Lily and Ruby, Eli and Ethan, Cathy Palmer, if not her people?

  “But DC?” she asked. She had to be convinced in her heart that he was sure this time.

  “Well, obviously, you’d do some traveling around, but you’d be based out of DC. We’d be based out of DC. But Sid seemed to think that a lot of things could be handled remotely. We could more or less split our time between the farmhouse and an apartment or condo in the city. It’d be the best of both worlds. Who knows? Maybe Rufus will turn out to be a city dog.”

  Her stomach was inching its way back out of the nausea zone and into excitement jitters.

  “It sounds . . . intriguing.”

  “Right?”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  He was about to answer when a grass-skirt-clad waitress hulaed her way over to take their drink orders.

  “You folks ready?”

  “You know, we haven’t even looked at the drinks yet. What would you recommend for a celebratory toast before we run to catch our plane?”