Thin Ice

by Paige Shelton

  I felt an ironic laugh bubble in my throat, but I swallowed it away. I’d actually thought Willa’s plan would have made a good cover. When everyone was assuming I was a parolee because I was staying at the Benedict House, briefly I’d thought I should have used that story. Willa had done it successfully, at least for a while.

  “Hang on,” I said. “Why didn’t she just come for a visit? Why the whole parolee thing?”

  “Diversion, I suppose. None of us saw her as a visitor, but my girls get a certain wide berth, a certain attitude that they’re left alone for the most part. Also, a free roof over her head and three squares,” Viola said with a sarcastic laugh. “It’s kind of genius if you don’t get caught. The jig would be up at some point, but she’s been here almost two weeks. Unbelievable.”

  “No good escape plan though,” Gril said. “When I’m paying attention, no one comes in or gets out of here without me knowing.”

  “She either does have a plan we don’t know about, or she didn’t care,” I said. “She got here, probably thought she’d figure out how to get out of here too.”

  “You think they’re all from Detroit?” Gril said to me.

  “I do. That blanket Linda was knitting, it was for a baby in Detroit. Linda told Janell but no one else. Janell told us.”

  Gril stood. “I need to find them.” He looked at Donner. “We need to find them. Viola and Beth, back to the Benedict House.”

  “I’d like to go to work at the Petition,” I said.

  “Lock the door,” Gril said. “You too, Vi. Make sure the other women are with you.”

  Viola and I nodded and I listened to her mumbled expletives as we made our way out of the cabin.

  As I stood on the stairs to the porch and watched Viola drive away in her truck, I took in some big pulls of cool fresh air. I didn’t feel unsafe, but I did feel vulnerable. I wondered if the sense of being watched that tickled at the back of my neck was left over from Levi Brooks, or all of these new revelations.

  I looked around once more before I hurried into my truck. I picked up the radio knob that fell onto the floorboard and put it back into place before I headed to the Petition.

  Twenty-Seven

  I didn’t have plans. I just didn’t want to be stuck in the Benedict House. If I had to be stuck anywhere, I preferred the Petition. Gril knew what he was doing when he offered me the job, the old hunting shed as a place all my own. Any project I might have started though was quickly forgotten when I opened my email and found a note from Mill.

  Got some news, Baby Girl.

  Stellen found a Levi Brooks, figured out why his name was familiar. Long story, short—he was the guy who burned down the Blankenships’ barn about ten years ago. Remember that?

  Here’s the longer version: Blankenship used to let folks down on their luck crash in his barn for free until they could get something else figured out. One night, Brooks knocked on the front door, waking up Blankenship, and wanting a ride into town. He was already three sheets to the wind by that time and when Blankenship told him to go away, Brooks burned down the barn, killed the livestock inside too, the piece of shit.

  We don’t know if it’s your Brooks or there’s more than one bad Levi Brooks, but they’re looking.

  Of course, they can’t find the booking photo. Remember, there was a trial but Brooks’ attorney managed enough reasonable doubt, so he was let go to roam the world and maybe terrorize my baby girl. Stellen and his cleavage riddled but smart secretary Melanie are looking for the file.

  Still bothers me to see someone behind Gramps’ desk, but Stellen is an okay guy. Melanie can’t hold a candle to you, but she’s sharp, even if she buys shirts two sizes too small. You know what I mean?

  Updates soon I hope.

  “I do know what you mean,” I said after I read the email from my mom.

  Oh, God, were we that much closer to finding him? Not we, but my mom? Had her efforts gotten us to this point? Was Levi just around some Missouri corner that my mom was about to turn onto? I was afraid to hope too much. I was also afraid for her, but I reminded myself: there was no stopping her.

  And then, there was something about the new information that sat funny with me. It wasn’t the obvious—that the guy’s name was Levi Brooks—that bothered me. There was something else. I couldn’t pinpoint it.

  I read the email again, hoping to figure out what was causing my subconscious to scream to pay attention.

  What was it?

  Another new email popped up before I could think too long. It was from Detective Majors.

  Beth–

  Here’s the picture of the man from California. Just got it logged. Give it a look. Let me know.

  I held the cursor over the PDF. My heart rate sped up. I would have never guessed that this would be difficult, that I wouldn’t rush to open the picture and see if I would recognize the man as Levi Brooks.

  But there I was.

  Finally, I clicked. And it opened, ever so slowly. Almost line by line, the picture of a man who’d stalked and tried to kidnap another author came to life.

  I looked hard. I studied. I blinked and squinted. I looked away and then back again. I tried as hard as I could possibly try before I hit Reply.

  I’m afraid I have no idea at all. I’m sorry.

  I had become so distracted by everything that I’d forgotten to tell her my recent memory when we’d spoken but I remembered it now, so I added: He might have a bite injury on his right hand. I remember biting him.

  I still couldn’t see what he looked like. At first I thought maybe he’d had dark hair, but now I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure if the sketch was or wasn’t him. I simply had no idea. At all. The name, that was it, that was all I’d been certain of. There was no doubt in my mind, but I couldn’t remember why I was so sure about that one and only thing.

  I took a deep breath and let it out through puffed cheeks.

  You are mine. You are all mine.

  Suddenly, pain pierced behind my eyes as Levi’s voice and blurred images filled my head. Levi over me, on top of me. A bristle of beard over his face—was it dark or blond? I couldn’t quite tell. His eyes, bright, as if he was fevered. His eyes were blue! His eyes were blue! I could see his eyes.

  I should have seen it earlier—the evil in those eyes. At the grocery store.

  I found a bug in the last head of lettuce I bought.

  He’d been trying to be charming, friendly. Faceless, but for those eyes, still in the memory, but a wary sensation had run through me back then—I remembered it. A stranger. He’d been a stranger, just talking to me about lettuce. It shouldn’t have been strange. It was a grocery store, after all. But it had seemed odd—then, not just in hindsight. When I’d left the grocery store though, I’d forgotten all about the uncomfortable moment.

  Come on, come on, I need his face. Come on.

  Oh my God. Once, when I was out for a walk, there he was running by. He’d waved and said hello. I’d smiled, but I hadn’t pegged him as the same man at the grocery store.

  Why can’t I see his face? How am I making these connections?

  And then at a book signing—he’d been at more than one. He’d laughed too loudly as he stood in line, laughed so I’d hear him, look at him. I’d done my best to ignore that loud voice, that laugh, but I hadn’t put together all those coincidences, everywhere he’d been. Why hadn’t I paid attention? Why had I ignored all those times he’d been there?

  But I hadn’t ignored them so much as just pushed them to the side. It had never occurred to me that I would be kidnapped—kidnapped! And, evil was even the sort of thing I wrote about, the places my always churning imagination went. I should have been paying better attention.

  The pain became even sharper and I thought I might pass out at my desk. I rolled into myself as my hands bookended my temples.

  It hurt so, so much.

  You’re okay, you’re going to be okay, baby girl. Shh, rest now. You’re okay.

  My mother’s
voice forced its way past Levi’s. She’d been at the hospital, she’d been motherly even, more so than she’d ever been. She’d held my hand and stroked my arm when I’d come out of the brain surgery. She hadn’t wavered. There had been nothing in her voice that sounded like a lie. She’d been sure I was going to be okay. She was the one finding the leads, tracking the evil. She was on my side. Always.

  And I was okay. Dammit. I was okay.

  Deep breaths. Relax. I’m okay. I’m O. K.

  It didn’t happen instantly, but I made it through the episode. The pain subsided to a dull heaviness and I could finally open my eyes.

  But then I wanted to close them again. The pain had lessened, but I was tired, bone-deep tired. I stumbled to the door, made sure it was locked, shoved a stool—the closest item I could reach—in front of it, and stumbled back to the desk.

  I was suddenly so, so tired. I crawled under and pulled my chair where it would hide me, and I curled up and fell asleep.

  Twenty-Eight

  I woke up with something resembling a hangover. My mouth tasted horrible, my eyelids were stuck shut, and I was desert-dry thirsty. The headache, even the dull ache, was gone though.

  I pushed on the chair with my toes and freed myself from under the desk. I managed my way up and into the chair and tried to figure out what time it was.

  It was five, according to the old clock on the wall, but I didn’t know which part of the day. A glance toward the blind-covered window didn’t help. Either A.M. or P.M. would have some light. I should look at the sun, see if it’s in the east or west. I wasn’t sure I could figure out which way was which yet though. Donner would be disappointed.

  Once I managed to get the computer up and going, I discovered it was evening. I’d slept away almost a whole day. Had George and Willa been found? I was so thirsty. I made my way to the watercooler and downed water too quickly.

  I coughed, but then refilled the cup and took it with me to the door, opening it wide.

  A slap of fresh air worked some magic and I stepped outside. It wasn’t cold. In fact, it wasn’t cool, even in the shade. It wasn’t too warm either, just comfortable. Was I acclimating or was Alaska just working harder to make me like it? I sniffed in earthy scents and wondered at the continuing episodes. They had passed; hopefully, there weren’t others on the way. I suspected there were, but it wouldn’t do any good to worry about them. However, I felt strongly that they had to stop. I didn’t want to get to that point where I lived more in my memories, the episodes, than in my real life, and I was on the verge of such an existence. That wouldn’t do. I would work to get better—get rid of whatever was continuing to happen.

  At least, I was now one hundred percent sure that Levi Brooks’s eyes were blue. It was a good piece of information to have. Detective Majors would appreciate it. I could visualize my mother grabbing every man she came upon by their shirt collar and looking to see what color their eyes were. With the information, she might frighten the entire male population. I felt the tug of a small smile at the mere thought of it. Besides, maybe that was going to be the only way to find him.

  Another scent made its way to my nose. It wasn’t pleasant, and I guessed it might belong to an animal.

  I stood still and sniffed some more. Oh, yes, there was something pungent in the vicinity.

  I turned around slowly and inspected the trees. I wasn’t far from the Petition’s door. I could run inside if need be.

  In the middle distance between me and where I thought the river ran, I spotted something dark moving—waddling—in the other direction. I squinted and looked hard. It was the backside of a bear—not too big with deep black fur.

  I was standing in the woods watching a bear walk away from me.

  Missouri had bears, but I’d never seen one live and in person. I thought back to what Donner had told me. I was pretty sure the coat wasn’t brown and that there wasn’t a hump on the back of its neck. So, not a grizzly, which meant … Run or play dead? I couldn’t remember.

  However, it wasn’t a big bear, maybe about the height of a big German shepherd, and it was moving away from me.

  Then it stopped. It turned and awkwardly sat sideways, so I had a view of its profile. And then it started whining, a woeful, rattling, high-pitched moan. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought I saw blood on the side of its head, near its ear.

  “Dammit.” I looked around. I didn’t see anyone. I also didn’t see any vehicles at the library. I thought about running inside to grab a phone, but when I was last conscious, the local law enforcement officers had their hands full with two missing persons.

  It was a young bear, but it was still a bear. What was I supposed to do? Call wildlife control? Was there a way to assess if it needed—God forbid—to be put down or something? I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

  I was still far away from the animal, but the step I took toward it was still hesitant. When it didn’t seem to hear the crack of the foliage at my feet, I stepped again. How much did teenager-ish bears weigh?

  I stepped again. The bear bleated. I was still closer to the Petition than the bear. I could still run back.

  But then a voice inside my head said, Don’t forget about mama bears. And since you don’t seem to know anything at all about this place, remember that you have absolutely no idea how fast mama bears can run. You should probably bet faster than you.

  I stopped in my tracks. “Yes, don’t be a complete idiot.”

  I would just call someone. I would call Viola and ask what to do. I turned back toward the Petition.

  And then the rain came down. It was as if someone dumped a giant bucket full of cold water on top of my head. In fact, it came with such a sudden and heavy force that I tried to look up and see if a bucket was there, but I couldn’t look up without being blinded. I couldn’t understand how this had happened again. How had I not seen the clouds coming this way?

  I stepped toward the Petition. Wait, was this the right direction?

  I looked into the wall of falling water, but I couldn’t see the building. I looked around but didn’t see it anywhere. I’d only been about twenty feet away from it, but the rain was so blinding that I couldn’t even make out the trees that had been surrounding me. I couldn’t see my truck either. It would pass. If I didn’t freeze to death first and a bear didn’t eat me, the rain would move on or lighten up and I would be fine.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered as the water sluiced down my body. I made a pathetic sight, even to myself.

  Something rumbled at my feet. Confused, I spread my arms to balance and wondered if my inner equilibrium had been thrown off-kilter. I couldn’t see.

  Had I just felt an earthquake?

  Wouldn’t that just be perfect?

  But it wasn’t an earthquake. Another moment later, I saw what had made the ground move. Not a bear, it was a moose.

  All the wildlife. All of it.

  The moose’s gigantic head came into view, so close to my own. I could make out the animal’s big brown eyes, curiously scrutinizing me, its mouth in an odd, displeased frown. I took a muddy step backwards. My foot sunk into gooey ground; I wasn’t going to be able to run. It stunk, something fierce. The pungent odor I’d smelled from the far-off bear had nothing on this creature. How did the entire woods not stink of the wildlife?

  The moose took a casual step toward me, air coming hard out of its nose, making a snorting, wet noise.

  We looked at each other in the rain. I had to keep wiping and spitting. It wasn’t the same moose I’d seen at the airport, though I wasn’t exactly sure how I knew that. This one was bigger, browner maybe. Older. Yes, this one was older than that one.

  Finally, the head swung back and then forward. And then it did it again.

  “You want me to follow you?” I said, ridiculously.

  It swung its head again.

  I pulled my sunken foot from the mud and took a step in the direction I thought I was being instructed to go. The animal started wal
king. It was so big, easy to see.

  Only seconds later we were at the Petition building. I hurried inside and then stood in the open doorway. By the time I turned around, the creature was gone. I couldn’t make out its shape anywhere.

  Had that really happened? Had a moose just made sure I’d get safely back to shelter?

  It had seemed so real, but unreal too.

  I closed the door and dried off. Once the rain passed, I would go back to town, tell someone about the bear, and see what I’d missed.

  Twenty-Nine

  “First of all, you don’t go chasing after hurt wildlife. Any wildlife. But when they’re hurt, they are at their most dangerous,” Viola said.

  “Yes, that makes sense. I should have known that, but I wasn’t sure. I … I know. Sorry.”

  “I can check on them, but you never should, not until you get better at”—she waved her hand around and even though we were in her office, I knew she meant Alaska—“all of this. Or until you get good with a gun.”

  “All right. Should I call Gril?”

  “I would probably call Donner on that one. Which direction from the Petition’s office did you see it go?” She lifted a pencil.

  “It was headed toward the river, so that would be west, right?”

  “Yes. Good. I will let Donner know this time. He will look into it.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t mention the moose. “Have George and Willa been found?”

  She’d avoided the question the first time I’d asked, when I’d walked into her office. She’d diverted my question with questions about why I looked like I’d gotten caught in the rain, was I hurt. When I’d seen her the word “simmering” had come to mind. She was unhappy, anger mixed with frustration and simmering just under a boiling point. I didn’t want to be the one to turn up the heat. I’d tried to make myself sound less stupid than I’d been, but I probably wasn’t successful. I didn’t know her well enough to know if I should tread lightly or cheer her on. For now, I would just take it easy, run away if she got too upset.