Thin Ice

by Paige Shelton

  “How much money do you have?” Donner asked.

  “Enough.”

  “If you don’t, Randy will set you up an account. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey there, Donner, this our visitor who fell off the horse? The one with the”—he pointed to his head, almost right where the scar was located—“scar?”

  “Didn’t hear about the scar.” Donner looked at me.

  I took off the cap. My hair was pasted to my head. I looked about as bad as I could possibly look.

  “Holy … that’s wicked,” Donner said.

  “Whoa, doggies. That’s worse than I’d heard.” Randy whistled.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.” I ruffled my hair. “I’m fine.”

  Randy frowned but nodded approvingly. “Welcome to Alaska, darlin’. My place is your place, and if you don’t have the money, I can set you up an account. But I do make you pay eventually.”

  “I appreciate that.” It was also a business practice that couldn’t possibly be profitable, but I didn’t say that out loud.

  “You fell off a horse?” Donner interjected.

  “I did. In Denver.” I cleared my throat. “So, what do I need?”

  The list was manageable. In fact, I did have enough money to cover everything but as I was behind the curtain of the small dressing room, trying on some of the sturdiest jeans I’d ever worn, I decided to behave as if I needed an account. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pay, I just didn’t want rumors about all my cash to spread as quickly as the news about the scar had.

  “Hey, Donner,” I said from behind the curtain. “Did you know Linda Rafferty?”

  “Of course. Tragic.”

  “Right.” I pushed open the curtain.

  Donner had been looking through a barrel full of thick socks. He’d placed a couple pairs over his arm as he turned and looked at me.

  It was strange, him helping me shop. It wasn’t intimate at all. It was all business, and very important, according to his and Randy’s back-and-forth discussion.

  She’ll need some rain boots too, Donner. Not just winter boots. We got these newfangled things here.

  Randy, are you getting more hand warmers in soon?

  Not just britches, make sure you get her a full Carhartt. (He referred to an orange, padded onesie, by the way. I got one, for those occasions when I’d be riding on a snowmobile, or perhaps behind a pack of dogs.)

  “Now, those look like the right length. Comfortable enough?” Donner asked me about the jeans.

  “Umm, well, for what they are, I suppose.”

  “They’ll soften up a little, but you need warm.”

  “Right. So, Donner, have you heard about me working at the Petition?”

  “Bobby’s paper?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, I hadn’t. That’s good. We could use someone there. It was a good way to know what was going on.”

  It seemed Donner was the last to pick up on the gossip.

  “Even I’d heard about that.” Randy was ringing up a customer, but the place was small enough that nothing could be missed.

  The customer wore a John Deere cap, but I did a double take when he turned his head and smiled in my direction. He looked just like Willie Nelson. Maybe a younger version, but the long, gray braids were there. He caught my eye and after he took his change from Randy, walked my direction.

  “I thought I saw someone out there today,” he said as he approached. He extended his hand. “Orin Capshaw.”

  “Beth Rivers.” I shook.

  I didn’t know if it was my imagination or if Orin moved in a cloud that smelled distinctly of weed.

  Donner came up next to him. “Orin is our resident computer genius and librarian. He spends most of his time at the library, but sometimes helps out at the airport. If you need anything found on the www, he’s your man.”

  When Donner didn’t continue, Orin looked at him and said, “Dude?”

  Donner looked back at him and then nodded. “Right. Orin has done work for the FBI, the CIA, and even some for National Geographic. You’ll see the Nat Geo ships out there in the water. Even they need some computer help sometimes.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” I said.

  “That’s better, Donner man.” He looked at me. “I saw you in the Petition building. Glad someone’ll be putting that together again. Bobby used me a lot. I’m free for residents of Benedict. I hear you’re going to be here awhile, that your apartment building in Denver is being rebuilt.”

  “That’s correct. I’m impressed.”

  “Shoot, that’s just the gossip. I haven’t pulled you up on the old,” he tapped Donner’s arm with the back of his hand, “www just yet.”

  I smiled. Orin was immediately likable. “Let me know what you find.”

  “Oh, I will. Nice to meet you,” he said and then he turned around to leave. He stopped at the door. “I’ll see you around the neighborhood, Beth Rivers.”

  And then he winked. I was stunned speechless as I looked at Orin and then at Donner and Randy. They didn’t seem to have noticed. Orin nodded and sent me a two-fingered peace sign before he walked out the door. He could have just been being friendly, being himself, but I sensed he was telling me he knew my secret. I thought about the prickles on the back of my neck as I’d been inside the Petition. Had Orin been watching me? Eavesdropping? Raw fear skipped up my spine.

  Hang on, I silently demanded. There was no reason to jump to conclusions.

  It looked like paranoia was my new normal.

  And who wanted to live that way?

  “Want two pairs of those jeans?” Donner asked, bringing me out of the stupor.

  “Yeah, I do,” I said before I turned and went back into the dressing room. It was as good a place as any to calm down.

  “That guy,” I said from behind the curtain when I thought I could manage an even tone, “he looked like Willie Nelson.”

  “Yep, but he doesn’t like that pointed out to him.”

  “Really? Seems like he works at it.”

  “Yeah, he’s an odd one,” Donner said. “But we all are. You’ll get used to it.”

  He was so matter-of-fact, I wasn’t sure if he was attempting to be glib or just stating the things as they were. Yes, I would get used to “it,” whatever it really was. I put on my own clothes and exited the dressing room.

  “I’m going to try to do things a little differently with the Petition. I might try to write more articles. I bet lots of people take amazing pictures around here. What if I published some of those too?” I said.

  Donner’s attention was inside a barrel that overflowed with fanny packs. “Okay.”

  “And I want to write something about Linda Rafferty. Of course, I didn’t know her. Would you tell me about her?”

  Donner turned his attention to me. His eyes were now their familiar perturbed, but maybe even more so. I couldn’t tell if he was bothered by the question or the fact that I’d put my other clothes back on. “You need a source?”

  “Yes.”

  Donner looked at Randy, who shrugged and said, “That’s not how Bobby did it.”

  “I know, but it wouldn’t hurt, would it? I bet people would like to know what happened to Linda,” I said. “There’s some question as to the manner of death. I didn’t know Linda and even I wonder.”

  Randy harrumphed as he waved away my idea and turned his attention to the shelves behind the cash register, where jars of jerky loomed large.

  “I think that’s going to be an uphill battle,” Donner said.

  I nodded. “I get that.”

  Donner held his arm toward me, displaying the socks he still had over it. “You’ll need at least a few pairs of these.”

  “Sounds good.” I nodded, hearing loud and clear the words he wouldn’t say. He wasn’t going to talk to me about Linda. “What else?”

  “I think we’ve done all right. Randy has some plain underwear over there, but I’ll let you p
ick those out yourself.”

  “Will do.”

  Fortunately, the Mercantile also had a few shelves of generic gray sweats. Instead of the clothes I’d worn for three days in a row, I grabbed some sweats and ran back to the dressing room. I’d never been into fashion, but my new wardrobe would take that to a new extreme. I asked about a laundromat and learned there was a small one behind the school. I didn’t wonder aloud how I would get there, but I didn’t think the bike was going to be enough.

  I kept the Cubs cap, but purchased one emblazoned with the silhouette of a moose. It was actually cute, tourist-like, and it would probably sell well in the lower forty-eight.

  “Much better hat,” Randy said as I approached the cash register. “You still look like a salmon out of water, but it’s better.”

  My bags were packed with underwear (long and regular), jeans, T-shirts (both long- and short-sleeved), socks, boots, a parka, gloves, hats, scarves, and the orange onesie. It was almost like shopping for a new winter term school year, except for the added snowshoes.

  “You never know when you’ll need these,” Donner said as he held them up. “Take them with you out to the Petition.”

  “All right.”

  Donner walked me back to the Benedict House and to my room. We made a pile of the bags and items and he turned to leave.

  I realized that other than the interruption from Orin, I’d just spent the last hour in a haze of normal, mostly without fear buzzing inside me.

  Stay busy. Keep busy. It wasn’t a revelation, but reinforcement. Even my mom had given me the advice.

  “Thank you,” I said as Donner made it to the door.

  “You’re welcome.” He stopped, turned, and studied me.

  “What?”

  “I’m driving out to the Rafferty place tomorrow morning, unless … well, that’s the plan right now. You can’t go inside, and I’m not going to give you a quote for your story, but I’ll show you where Linda lived. Want to go?”

  “Why?” I said. “I mean, yes, thank you.”

  Donner didn’t smile. “I don’t exactly know why, except there are questions. I don’t think your ideas for the Petition are going to work, but if you’re truly curious, I’m all about getting answers.”

  “Great. Yes. Thank you. What time?”

  “Right after breakfast.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  As he left, I wondered about what he’d said. I thought maybe he felt sorry for me; maybe some more time with him in his truck was a good chance for him to share some survival techniques with the new person, the “salmon out of water.” No one else was going to show me, it seemed.

  I was okay with that.

  Ten

  The pounding was persistent.

  “Hey, Beth, wake up and get yourself out here right away. Dining room, stat.”

  It was Viola’s voice. As I’d done the previous night, I’d fallen into a deep, carefree sleep. With the chair under the doorknob and Levi hopefully in the lower forty-eight, I’d lulled myself into thinking I could finally get some rest.

  Apparently not.

  The rude awakening sent my heart into overdrive and my confused senses searching for some understanding of what was going on.

  Okay, it was two in the morning according to my phone. And it was really cold. Leaving the comfort of the thick blankets and the bed was not appealing, but something was going on. Something Viola demanded me to be a part of.

  I’d given it some thought. If Gril hadn’t expressed such confidence in Viola, I wasn’t sure I would have stayed at the Benedict House. An extra room at the Harvingtons’ would get me away from pickpockets and thieves. And blackmailers, from what I’d witnessed between Willa and Loretta.

  But I liked Viola, and I liked that it seemed like she would protect me to the best of her ability.

  I hurried into some new sweats and the moose cap, and moved the chair. I opened the door slowly and peered out into the starkly lit hallway. No one there. I closed the door behind me and double-checked that it locked before I made my way to the dining room.

  I was the last one to arrive.

  “I have no idea!” Trinity, the mousiest of the felons, was protesting. Even her squeaky voice seemed to fit.

  Viola turned to me. “Sit down, Beth. I’ve already gone over this once, but I’ll do it again.”

  I took a seat at the end of the lined-up row of three criminals. Everyone in the room but Viola looked like they’d been awakened and dragged from bed. Willa’s short hair stood on end, Loretta’s ponytail was messy, and she currently wore no makeup. Trinity wore flannel onesie pajamas that were decorated with dinosaurs. She was small enough that she might be able to shop in the young girls’ department. Even with a quick glance, I thought I saw a twitch at the corner of her eye.

  Viola frowned at the lot of us, her eyes stopping on mine. “Beth, did you purchase some snowshoes from the Mercantile today?”

  “I did.”

  “I thought that might be the case,” Viola said. She sat on the edge of a table and reached into a large bag, pulling out a snowshoe. “These them?”

  I blinked. “They look like them. What’s going on?”

  Viola sighed. “I take it you didn’t throw them out back into the dumpster.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Someone did.”

  “I’ll go check my room.” I stood. Even Viola’s gun couldn’t have stopped me.

  I made a quick run and fumbled with my key in the lock. When I managed to get inside, I hurried to the stack of gear I’d purchased but hadn’t put away yet.

  Relief flooded through me when I saw that the snowshoes I’d purchased were still there, at the bottom of all the other things, well hidden by the orange Carhartt. They hadn’t been taken from my room, which to me simply meant my life hadn’t once again been somehow invaded.

  I made sure the door locked again and went back to the dining room.

  “Mine are still there,” I said.

  For a moment, Viola looked perplexed, but she brought back the consternation quickly as she turned to the other women.

  “I heard someone out in the dumpster about an hour ago. Which one of you put these brand-new-tags-still-on snowshoes in the dumpster? Who did you steal them from? I want to know.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t any of us,” Loretta said.

  “Some stranger put some new snowshoes in my dumpster? That doesn’t make much sense,” Viola said.

  “Viola,” Willa said. “Why did it take you an hour to check?”

  Viola glared at her. “Good question, Willa. In fact, I should have checked earlier, but the noises took about an hour to register.”

  “Well, if you’d gone out when you first heard the noise, you might have seen that it wasn’t one of us,” Willa said.

  I held my breath. I couldn’t tell if the other women did the same. Maybe they didn’t care how Willa spoke to Viola.

  “Willa, you’re skirting the edge of acceptable tones here,” Viola said.

  Showing a glimmer of intelligence, Willa pursed her mouth closed, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and nodded once without saying anything else.

  “Viola,” Trinity pleaded. “I don’t think it was any of us, and her stuff is all okay.” She nodded toward me. “We’re not going to go into her room and take her things, no matter what you might think. We all want good reports from you. You know that. Besides, snowshoes? Who in the world would try to take something so big? Not how we usually work.”

  Loretta didn’t say anything at all. She was silent, her eyes too widely innocent. She was trying too hard, but at least she didn’t have an attitude.

  “I will find out what happened,” Viola said. “I will find out the truth, and I promise you, it would be better if whoever is behind this confesses to me first.”

  We could hear the motor from the refrigerator in the kitchen click on as we looked at Viola. No one confessed to anything.

  “All right. Have it your way. Get to
bed and get back here in time for breakfast,” Viola said before she stood and marched out of the room.

  The tense air left with her and the other three women relaxed. Trinity’s shoulders fell, Loretta rubbed her hand over her forehead, and Willa stood.

  I should have just followed Viola, but I was too curious about what would happen next. There was something else to me staying too. I wanted the three women to see that I wasn’t scared of them, wasn’t going to be bullied by them, if that thought had crossed their criminal minds. I was scared a little, but I knew enough to know you can’t let bullies see that they’re succeeding.

  “I can’t believe I’m in the middle of all this shit,” Willa said as she left the room, her footfalls heavy and angry.

  Loretta rolled her eyes at me. “She thinks she’s something.”

  Trinity looked sideways at Loretta and I wondered what she was thinking.

  “You!” Loretta said to Trinity. “Whatever went on to get her so mad at you, get it fixed. I don’t want to do this every night.”

  Trinity glared at Loretta and then scooted her chair back noisily. “What makes you so sure it was me?”

  “I have no doubt,” Loretta said firmly.

  In what I could only describe as a huff, Trinity left the room.

  “What was that about?” I asked. “What do you think Trinity did?”

  “Nothing. I’m going back to bed,” Loretta said as she stood. She didn’t look at me as she left. “See you in the morning.”

  For a long few moments, I sat in the dining room, making sure I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t.

  Willa had a point, who would steal snowshoes? Who would throw them in the Benedict House dumpster? What did Loretta think Trinity had done to anger Viola?

  I didn’t know enough about anything to venture any guesses.

  But I didn’t trust any of my housemates, and I would make sure my door was always locked, the chair under the knob when I was inside.