Heart of Ice

by Barbara Pietron

Chapter 10

  At the end of the street, Nik turned in the same direction they'd seen Dale disappear, then paused at the next intersection. Phone to his ear, Ice leaned forward, craning his neck to look both ways. The morning was clear and bright, the roads empty of traffic this early on Sunday. There was no sign of his Jeep. "That idiot!" he grumbled, slapping his phone down on his knee.

  "Any idea why he'd take off like that?" Nik asked.

  Ice slumped in his seat. "None." He glowered at the windshield and attempted to clear the fog of outrage from his head so he could think. "It's like suddenly he was convinced that he could be the one spreading the curse—even after you agreed he couldn't use the charm."

  Nik didn't comment. The tense set of the medicine man's jaw and his furrowed brow planted a kernel of trepidation at Ice's core. "Nik?" His voice faltered and he swallowed. "What is it?"

  The medicine man shot a quick glance at his apprentice. "I'm afraid I'm wrong."

  "Wrong? Wrong about what?" His mentor was never wrong. "The charm? You think maybe he could use it?"

  "He has a strong spiritual link," Nik admitted grimly. "The charm—an open conduit to the spirit world—rested directly on his skin. Vengeful thoughts about specific people or situations must have translated directly to the North Wind, calling the spirit's attention. When it visited you, you said the manitou referenced fixing some sort of problem, right?"

  Ice nodded. "But why did the North Wind come to me and not Dale?"

  "Most likely because of spiritual awareness. Dale didn't know he was transmitting his thoughts, so he wasn't prepared to receive an answer. But you were on a vision quest, open to communication with the spirits. The lines were crossed, so to speak."

  The sense of dread that descended over Ice prevented him from feeling any sort of triumph that his theory seemed to be correct. Heck, he didn't want Dale to be at fault; the details had simply fallen into place. As the confrontation replayed itself in his head, Ice reflected that he certainly could've handled things better. But he'd just been so angry about the dream—about being tempted to eat human flesh—that the instinct to lash out had taken over.

  "What did he say before he ran out?" Nik asked. "I didn't catch it."

  Ice thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure he said 'she knew but she couldn't tell me.'"

  "Who do you think he was referring to?"

  "His mom?" Ice frowned. "That doesn't make sense though. If his mom knew what the necklace was, why would she give it to Dale and not tell him?"

  A moment of silence stretched out as Ice and Nik contemplated Dale's words. Then Ice sat up straight. "He said 'couldn't,'" he exclaimed, "as in physically unable to speak. Dale was referring to Grams." Ice's mind raced through the few, short conversations he'd had with Dale about Grams. "She attacked him."

  "What was that?"

  "Dale said when he visited Grams, she like, jumped at him. His mom shrugged it off, but he seemed freaked out by it, said something about the look on Grams' face." He turned to Nik. "Maybe it was the necklace. She couldn't talk so she tried to reach for it, or point to it or something."

  "Do you think he'd go to the hospital to see her?"

  Ice frowned. "Why?"

  Nik shrugged. "To get answers."

  "But she can't talk, and he left the necklace with us."

  The medicine man considered Ice's words. "Then I think we need to see her."

  Immersed in his thoughts, Ice hadn't paid any attention to their whereabouts, but now realized they were in his neighborhood. "Where are we going?"

  "I figured we'd try his house first."

  A few minutes later, as Ice mounted the stairs to Dale's front porch; he reflected that he'd never knocked on the front door here. He always went to the side door off the driveway, and if the door was open, he just walked right in.

  Mr. Quinn opened the door. He knew Nik immediately, and then his eyes widened slightly as he recognized Ice. "Come in," he said. "What's up?"

  The television was on in the living room, squawking an annoying product jingle that grated on Ice's raw nerves.

  "Is Dale home?" Nik asked first.

  Mr. Quinn frowned. "No. He took off before Sara and I got up this morning. Is he in trouble or something?"

  "We just wanted to talk to him about his grandmother," Nik answered smoothly. "Is Sara here?"

  Before Mr. Quinn could answer, Mrs. Quinn appeared in the hallway. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and she held a cup of coffee as if it were her life's blood. "What do you want to know about my mother?" she asked. She set the coffee cup on the half-wall separating the entryway from the living room, and leaned against the opposite wall.

  "We'd like to pay her a quick visit," Nik said.

  "Why?"

  "We'd like to ask her a question or two. It's very important."

  Mrs. Quinn shook her head dismissively. "She can't talk." She pushed off the wall and reached for her coffee cup.

  "I understand that," Nik replied quickly. "All we need is a nod or shake of her head."

  "No," Mrs. Quinn said flatly. "I don't want her to get upset." She turned her back and shuffled toward the kitchen.

  "But Ma'am," Nik implored. "What I have to say might help her."

  She turned in the doorway to the kitchen and looked at both Nik and Ice in turn. "No," she said, and disappeared from view.

  "She's been so stressed." Mr. Quinn apologized, looking slightly embarrassed. He nodded toward the door.

  Assuming the man was dismissing them, Ice swung the door open and stepped outside. Nik followed, and surprisingly Mr. Quinn also exited the house, hugging his arms against the chilly air. "Visiting hours start in an hour," he murmured, then stooped to pick up a paper shoved in a plastic sleeve. "Sara won't be there until this afternoon." He didn't look either Ice or Nik in the face until he ducked back inside. "Have a nice day," he said in a normal tone of voice and let the door swing shut behind him.

  Ice didn't say anything until they got in the truck. "Did he just tell us to go see Grams anyway?"

  "I believe so." Nik started the truck and backed from the driveway. "I thought we might need the family's permission, but apparently not." He paused at a stop sign. "Well, we've got an hour to kill. We should look for Dale and your Jeep. Any ideas?"

  "His girlfriend's house. I'm pretty sure I remember how to get there." Ice did not want to call Lynn.

  "Okay, point me in the right direction. Did you want to call the police?"

  Ice took a moment to answer. "No." He sighed. "I'll give Dale the benefit of a doubt for now." He highly doubted Dale had taken his Jeep to go joy riding in the woods, but Ice still sulked a bit, thinking of all the lawns he'd mown and movies he'd watched at home instead of going out so he could save money. And he wasn't the only one who'd made sacrifices, his mom put in overtime, promising to match what he saved, dollar for dollar, so he could buy a vehicle in reasonably good condition.

  When they didn't see his Jeep at Audrey's house, Nik turned back toward town. "I'll take the long way to the hospital, cover some roads we haven't been on."

  Ice nodded. He tried calling Dale again, unsurprised when the call went to voicemail. He saw no point in leaving a message.

  They arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes before visiting hours and Nik coaxed Ice into the cafeteria. The smell of food reminded Ice that he'd left the house without eating and his stomach growled, despite his brain saying he didn't give a crap about food right now. He settled on a cup of hot chocolate, barely tasting it.

  Nik used both Grams' English surname, Jackson, as well as her given name, Calling Loon, when he inquired at the reception desk. The attendant gave them directions to the nurse's station closest to Grams' room. "Check in there first," she instructed.

  The nurse manning the station looked at them dubiously. "Are you family?"

  "No," Nik answered. "Spiritual advisors. I'm the tribal medicine man and this is my apprentice." He removed a card from his wallet and passed it to the woman.

&
nbsp; The nurse looked from one face to the other, then seemed to come to a decision. "Okay, maybe you can help—we're afraid she's giving up." She rose, talking as she came around the desk. "The first few days Calling Loon was here, she was extremely alert and eager to communicate, but her right arm is useless and her left trembles too much to write anything legible." She gestured with her head for them to follow her. "I had to ask visitors to leave because she'd wear herself out trying to talk and making gestures. The last few days though, she's seemed more despondent." The nurse stopped outside a door standing ajar and turned to them, lowering her voice slightly. "The doctors believe she can recover some of her faculties; I sure hate to see her give up."

  Ice sucked in a sharp breath when he caught sight of Grams. She'd never been a large woman, but now she looked shrunken, almost lost in the hospital bed.

  "Calling Loon," Nik greeted her with a bright smile and approached the bed to squeeze her hand.

  Ice rounded to the other side of the bed. "Hi Grams," he said quietly. Her right eye socket sagged, but the left widened. "I know." He smiled sheepishly. "It's been a while. I'm taller."

  "I'm hoping we can help each other," Nik said, getting right to the point. He put his hand in his pocket and withdrew the necklace, holding it up so she could see it.

  Grams' left eye stretched wide as she recognized it. Her gaze darted from Nik to Ice.

  "Is this a bad medicine charm?" Nik asked gently.

  When Grams moved her head, it jerked to the left, but she brought her chin down to make the movement a nod. Her eyes were full of fear.

  "Did Great Cloud intend to be wearing it when he died?"

  Again, she motioned affirmatively with her head, a tear welling in her left eye and escaping from the corner.

  What Nik did next took Ice by surprise. He held the necklace up and unfastened it, then deliberately wrapped it around his own neck and secured it. He pulled his jacket collar, letting the charm slip inside. Leaning forward, he grasped both of Calling Loon's hands. "Don't worry, I'll end the curse. This is taken care of now and Great Cloud will be at peace."

  More tears spilled down Grams' left cheek. Her eyes beamed with gratitude and Ice watched the subtle shift of her blanket as a week's worth of tension drained from her body. The left side of her mouth lifted into a half-smile.

  "We have some things to take care of now, but I'll come and visit again," Nik promised.

  "What's next?" Ice asked as they returned to the truck. The sun was warm on his dark hair and had allowed the cab of the truck to retain some heat.

  "Breakfast," Nik replied. "You've been up for hours; you can't survive on a cup of hot chocolate," he said to Ice's unenthusiastic expression. Since it was still early for the after church crowd, Nik pulled into a popular restaurant in town.

  Assaulted by the aroma of cinnamon and bacon, Ice's physical needs trumped his sour mood. He had to admit he felt more positive after consuming a ham and cheese omelet, hash browns, and a pecan roll. With their brains fueled, Nik and Ice kicked around ideas of where Dale might have gone.

  "I have a hard time believing he just skipped town," Ice said.

  Nik looked up from the bill with money fanned out in his fist like playing cards. "Ice, you and Dale were best buddies for most of your life; I doubt he's changed that much in five years. Think about the guy you used to know—what would he do?"

  Ice contemplated his younger days while Nik placed the cash on the table. He tried to remember times when he and Dale had gotten into trouble—what they did—what Dale did. Ice waited until Nik was done counting, then he said, "He'd try to make it right."

  The medicine man nodded. "I thought as much."

  Ice slid out of the booth. "So where does that leave us? Do we join the hunt for Nesbitt and hope we find Dale?"

  "More or less," Nik said.

  By this time, a crowd had gathered in the small entrance to the restaurant and Ice and Nik had to wind their way through clusters of people to get to the door.

  "Ice!"

  Ice swiveled his head to see who'd called his name and saw one of his neighbors with her hand raised. Ice returned the wave, intending to move on, but saw the woman advancing toward him. "Hello Mrs. Savoie."

  "I told them you had more brains than to go out on the ice," she said with an emphatic shake of her head.

  Ice scrunched up his forehead. "Uh… excuse me?"

  "After church, word was going around that someone was crossing the lake on a snow machine. Looked like they were headed to Star Island. Crazy!" She threw up both hands. "This late in April?"

  Ice nodded. "That is pretty crazy. But why did you think it was me?"

  Mrs. Savoie shook her head. "Oh honey, I didn't think it was you. I know you're smarter than that. Somebody said they thought they saw your car parked at Stony Point. Seems that's where the crazy person took off from." She shifted her purse to her other arm. "But here you are, so obviously it wasn't you. I was right all along." She sniffed.

  "Yeah, I'm-"

  Mrs. Savoie cut him off, her attention fixed over his shoulder. "There's Arnie," she said. "You have a nice day now." She patted his shoulder and shuffled off to intercept her husband.

  Ice found Nik in the truck with the engine running. He swung the door open. "I might know where Dale is," he blurted as he clambered into the seat and slammed the door. "Star Island."

  "What?" Nik exclaimed. "What makes you think that?"

  "I ran into a neighbor lady in there. Sounds like my Jeep is out at Stony Point where somebody took off across the ice on a snowmobile."

  Nik put the truck in gear. "If it was Dale, I wonder why he'd go to Star Island."

  "I don't know." Ice swiped a hand through his hair. "He couldn't possibly know where Nesbitt is when the police haven't found him yet. Maybe he has some kind of hunch in relation to Windigo Lake." He realized his knee was jiggling up and down so he pressed his heel to the floor and took a deep breath.

  Nik grunted without comment.

  Stony Point Campground was just outside town and as they approached, Ice anxiously eyeballed a dark green Jeep standing in the back of the parking area. They pulled into the lot and Nik drew up beside the vehicle. Already certain the Jeep was his, Ice jumped out.

  He pulled the driver door handle, not particularly surprised to find it unlocked. He noted the empty ignition, then hopped into the seat and opened the console, hoping Dale had left the keys behind. After rummaging through various cords, chargers, headphones, and a few CDs, Ice leaned forward and opened the glove box. His search yielded nothing.

  Ice slid from the seat with a groan. When he turned to slam the door, he had another thought. Leaning down, he peered under the seat. With his face close to the floor of the vehicle, he spotted a dark stain on the mat that he otherwise would've glossed over. The carpet fibers appeared wet and Ice rubbed his finger lightly over the spot. A red smudge colored the pad of his finger. He didn't imagine Dale had taken his Jeep so he could drive through somewhere for fries. Besides, the color was wrong for ketchup—this was blood.

  A more thorough examination of the driver area revealed a dark smear on the outside edge of the steering wheel, directly above the stain on the floor mat. Dale had had blood on his left hand. His gaze fell again to the floor mat and Ice frowned, noticing an odd bulge. He lifted the mat, breathing a sigh of relief as he revealed his ring of keys. He held them up to show Nik, then locked the Jeep and climbed back into the truck. "There's blood on the steering wheel and the mat," Ice said. "Not very much, most likely a superficial wound."

  A perplexed expression knitted Nik's brow. He put the truck in gear. "Let's go in the lodge and see what we can find out," he said, driving forward to a parking spot closer to the building.

  The desk clerk retrieved the manager when he got the gist of Nik's line of inquiry. The manager sized up the medicine man and then said, "A couple hours ago a boy came in asking to rent a machine." His gaze shifted to Ice and after a moment of scruti
ny he continued. "He was about your age." The man took a spiral notebook from a shelf under the counter. "Name's Dale Quinn."

  "Did you rent one to him?" Nik prodded.

  "Sure," the man replied. "He had the money and valid ID. He asked for a map of trails. I showed him the best loops."

  "Anything else?" Nik asked.

  "Yeah, he rented a pair of boots but said the rest of his gear was in the car."

  Ice met Nik's eyes and gave a small shake of his head. He didn't carry any warmer clothes in his car.

  "He only had enough cash for an hour and a half," the manager said. He glanced at his watch. "As of now, he's over forty-five minutes late. I have a guy that runs the trails periodically to make sure no one's in trouble. He hasn't seen the kid at all. Then someone came in and said a machine was spotted on the lake." He grimaced and shook his head. "I don't know if it was this kid, but I hope not."

  "Do you think it's safe to have a snowmobile on the lake?"

  The man flicked an eyebrow and pressed his lips into a straight line. "It's been cold the last week or so, but we had a warmer spell early in the month," he said. "Once we're into April, conditions can vary widely, day-by-day. Most fishermen have brought their shanties in by now and I wouldn't go out."

  "We'd like to rent a machine," Nik said.

  Ice gaped at the medicine man. "We would?"

  "If Dale's out there, it's our responsibility to go after him."

  "Right now?" Ice looked down at his jeans and tennis shoes.

  "I've got all the gear you need," said the manager. "But if you're going after the machine that crossed to the island, I'll need a credit card. If you go through the ice, we have the right to charge your account for the loss."

  Without hesitation, Nik opened his wallet and handed the man a card.

  The life of an Indian is like the wings of the air. That is why you notice the hawk knows how to get his prey. The Indian is like that. The hawk swoops down on its prey; so does the Indian. In his lament he is like an animal. For instance, the coyote is sly; so is the Indian. The eagle is the same. That is why the Indian is always feathered up; he is a relative to the wings of the air.

  Black Elk - Oglala Sioux Holy Man