The Ice Storm Murders

by Virginia Winters

  Trevor grabbed duct tape from the shelf, used his teeth to cut a strip, and plastered that across her mouth. Now with a hand free, he half-carried, half-dragged her out the door and onto the ice and snow.

  Maybe someone would see. Thomas would come looking for her. She had to slow him down. He held her under one of his arms as he struggled with her through the deep snow, breaking through the ice below at every step. Once he fell, and she managed to reach the little knife in her pocket and pry it open. The blade sliced her thumb and blood dripped down her arm and into her sleeve.

  Where was he taking her? The forest beyond the clearing grew closer. Would they find her? Or at least her body before the bears or the coyotes. She shook blood on the snow to leave a trail.

  Upstairs, Olivia is standing at the window. "When can I go outside to play."

  "When the ice melts, you can go out. First, we're going to fly to Toronto, to our house. You can play outside there."

  "Can we take the dogs to the park?"

  "Yes."

  Olivia jumped up and down at the window, hitting the glass with her hand. “Eloise. Eloise. The man with the red hair is hurting Anne.”

  Olivia screamed and hit the glass harder.

  "Olivia, stop that," said Eloise, coming over to the child.

  "He fell down and he made Anne fall too. Eloise, Daddy, look. Look."

  Her daddy looked and ran for the door. He was shouting for Thomas.

  "Eloise, what is the man doing to Anne? I'm scared."

  She wrapped her arms around Eloise and cried.

  Thomas raced down the stairs. The kitchen stood empty; winter blasted in from the outside door. Where was she? Behind him, the staircase door opened again.

  David hurtled into the room and grabbed Thomas's arm. "Trevor has her. Across the field towards Mike's body."

  Thomas shrugged him off and ran for the door. He didn't wait for boots but followed footprints across the field, oblivious to the snow and ice filling his shoes. Behind him, he heard the door slam.

  Half-way across, signs of a fall; blood stained the snow. Anne's or Trevor’s? Ahead the two figures struggled, but then they disappeared into the trees. He raced forward.

  Beside him now, David gasped, "Careful. Who knows if he has a gun?"

  They moved silently under the pines. Ahead something fell , and birds flew up, angry and afraid.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Birds flew up out of the bushes as he pulled her through, one bird so close its wings brushed her hair. Vicious buckthorns raked her face, and she closed her eyes to protect them. She hoped there was no poison ivy, but it didn't matter. What did anything matter? She only had moments to live. Her hand gripped the knife, leaving only the little blade. She would stab him if she had a chance, but where? His groin. If she could reach the artery, or even give him enough pain so he would let her go.

  He stopped, and she stumbled out of his grasp, looked down and tried to scream. Mike's dead eyes stared up at her.

  "Lie down."

  She shook her head at him. He came closer to grab her arms. Before he did, she raised the hand with the knife and stabbed his neck.

  He roared and backhanded her across her mouth. She fell and thrust upwards, blindly, hoping to reach his groin. He bellowed and tried to kick her but fell, blood spurting from his neck. His carotid. She hit his carotid. She crawled away from him as he reached for her. She couldn't save him.

  He whispered. One word. What was it? Can? No, Carmel. The light faded from his eyes, and he toppled on top of her. A dead weight. If she couldn't get him off, perhaps she would be gone too. So heavy. She shoved, but he didn't budge. She fell back into the snow and yanked the tape from her mouth. In the distance, she heard shouting. Thomas. Was that Thomas? He would find her. She closed her eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Anne lay motionless on the blood-stained snow. Trevor straddled her body, his head forward over hers, one hand gripping a knife. Fear squeezed Thomas's heart. She couldn't be dead. He couldn't lose her when they were so close.

  He bellowed, racing towards Anne, "Trevor. Get the hell off her."

  He grabbed the hand that held the knife.

  David stood on the other side of Anne. "I think he's dead, Tom. How—"

  Anne's voice came in a hoarse gasp. "Thomas, I knew you would come."

  "Thank God."

  He knelt beside her and brushed snow off her face. She opened her eyes and managed a smile, sort-of a smile. Trevor's weight on her chest crushed her. She tried to talk, a strangled gasp. She tried again. "Pull him off of me. I can't breathe."

  David and Thomas rolled the body and helped Anne to her feet. She held a tiny knife in her right hand. Was that all she had? A penknife?

  "Give me the knife."

  She dropped it into his hand and shuddered. "Again, Thomas. Again."

  He held her against him while she sobbed.

  "I thought I'd lost you."

  His lips brushed her hair.

  "Tom, I'm going back to tell the others," David said.

  "Don't tell Carmel," Anne said. "If she's awake, don't tell her yet."

  "Did you check Trevor?" Thomas said.

  "Yeah. She stabbed him in the neck and maybe the groin. Most of the blood's from his neck."

  Anne turned from Thomas and vomited, staining the snow behind her with yellow bile. Thomas grabbed her arms and stared into her face, willing her to listen to him.

  "You had to do it. He'd already killed two people."

  She took so long to recover from Spain and now this.

  "Take me back, Thomas. I'm so cold."

  Together they retraced the footprints to the house. Partway, Thomas pointed to the bloody trail.

  "Whose blood?"

  "Mine. I cut my thumb when I opened the knife."

  Brave, he thought. She's so brave. He held her closer as they stumbled together towards the lodge.

  In the nursery, Eloise hugged Olivia to her as they waited for someone to come out of the bush. Olivia turned frantic eyes to her. "Why was the man with the red hair taking Anne away? He's a bad man. He hurt Vanessa."

  "Yes, he's a bad man."

  "Look, look. Daddy's coming. Daddy's coming."

  David strode across the field and behind him, Anne and Thomas. Anne was walking. Thomas was holding her, but she was walking.

  "Anne is okay. Anne is okay."

  Olivia jumped up and down and rapped with a little fist on the window. Below, David looked up and smiled and waved.

  "Can we go downstairs? Can we?"

  "We must wait for Daddy to come up. He'll come soon."

  A few moments later, David opened the door and stared for a moment. Why was he staring? Olivia stood beside her, holding her hand. Hamish, lay in the crib, his bottom in the air as always when he slept. And then she knew. He was looking at his family. She held out one arm and gathered him in. He lifted Olivia and clung to them.

  "It's over," he said. "It's finally over."

  "Trevor?"

  "Yes."

  "Is the bad man coming back, Daddy?"

  "No, baby. No."

  He kissed the little girl's forehead and hugged them both closer.

  In the kitchen, Anne collapsed onto a press-backed kitchen chair and drew a deep breath. The knobs of the carving drilled into her back, and she shuddered.

  Thomas wrapped an Afghan throw around her shoulders and threw another log into the stove. "Tea?"

  "Yes, tea. Thank you."

  Thomas poured hot water from the reservoir in the stove into the kettle and set in on a heated burner. In a few moments, it boiled, and he made a potent brew. When it was ready, he poured two cups, loaded both with sugar and milk and set one in front of Anne. "Lots of sugar, as I know you order for shock."

  "Yes, good idea."

  How strange she felt. Numb and detached. She killed Trevor. He would have killed her. She remembered the rage in his eyes and shivered.

  "Are you cold? I'll find anothe
r—"

  "No. I remembered the way he looked. So angry. So angry. He said I took away their hope and drove him to do this."

  Thomas took her right hand and held tight. "They had no hope, and he killed Vanessa in cold blood. You were a threat, getting too close."

  "But his fury?"

  "Perhaps he needed it to murder an alert woman rather than a comatose one."

  "Comatose. We have to check Carmel."

  She half-rose from her chair, but Thomas shook his head. "Later. You have to recover first."

  "She might be dead."

  "There's nothing you can do if she is."

  So pragmatic. She used to think she was pragmatic, but lately she was a confused mass of emotions.

  He gripped her hands, covering both of hers with his. "I thought I lost you."

  She smiled, tried to smile. "I knew you would come."

  "Always."

  Yes, always. When they left this awful place, they would talk about always.

  "I'm ready to tell Brad and Andrea," she said.

  "Let's go up."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Anne stood beside him when Thomas knocked on the door and opened it at Brad's muttered come in.

  "What do you want?"

  "Let me look at Andrea first," Anne said. "Have you noticed any change?"

  "I think she might be breathing a bit easier."

  Anne checked Andrea's colour and listened to her chest. "How do you feel?" she asked.

  "Better."

  Her breathing was less laboured, and the rales in her chest were clearing. She might make it.

  "Yes. Your chest sounds better too. Did you eat or drink this morning?"

  "I brought her some tea and toast. Where were you all?"

  Thomas spoke from across the room. "Chasing Trevor. He abducted Anne and dragged her to the forest to kill her."

  Andrea gasped, and the blue tinge to her lips deepened. Anne held the puffer below her nose and gave her one dose, and another.

  "Beth?" she gasped.

  "We haven't told her."

  "He didn't hurt her?"

  "I'll go see Beth,” said Thomas and hurried from the room.

  "Trevor is the killer?" said Brad.

  "Yes. Was. He's dead."

  "What kind of place—"

  "It's not the fault of the lodge but this conflict over Hamish. He thought if they had Hamish, Carmel would recover. And then there's the money."

  "He killed two people? Two people."

  "And tried to kill two more. And there were others on Trevor's list, Brad. Andrea, you. Eloise."

  "He was insane."

  "Yes. Perverted love for Carmel."

  "How is she?"

  "Comatose, last I saw her. When Thomas comes back, we'll go there."

  "Helicopters will be here in the morning. One for Carmel and Andrea and one for you and the others if they want to go."

  "What about you?"

  "Later."

  Thomas knocked on the door of Beth and Kevin's room, and walked in at Kevin's shouted invitation.

  Beth and Kevin sat near their fireplace, wrapped in sweaters, enveloped in blankets from the bed. "Thomas. What brings you here? Do you have news?"

  "Yes. Rescue is on the way for Andrea and Carmen. The police are coming—"

  Kevin leaned forward towards Thomas, his face contorted with worry. "What will you tell them?"

  "I have more bad news. Beth, it was Trevor who has been killing. He killed Vanessa and Mike and tried to kill David and Anne."

  "Anne. Is she—"

  "Fine. She fought back, and Trevor is dead."

  Colour left Beth's face, and she trembled. "But why?"

  "We think he was focussed on getting Hamish for Carmel and eliminating everyone who stood between them and the baby."

  She stood up and took a step towards the door. "My mother?"

  Kevin leaped up and took her arm.

  "She's fine. Anne is with her. You know her first thought was of you and you of her."

  "It was?"

  "I have to go—"

  "We have to go," Kevin said.

  Anne and Thomas found Carmel deep in a coma, unresponsive to her name, although she moved and brushed away her hand when Anne applied pain.

  "She may survive. How many more hours until morning?"

  "Ten or thereabouts."

  "Should we call the OPP again?"

  "Yes."

  Thomas built a fire, and they sat for a while in front of the leaping flames.

  "The radio?"

  "I'll try again. Sometimes it's easier to get through at night."

  Anne listened while he called the letters of the OPP and his explanation of what had happened when he reached them.

  "They'll be here in the morning," he said.

  "Can you sleep? Should we go up?"

  "Yes."

  Kevin knocked at the door to Andrea's room.

  "Who is it?"

  "Kevin and Beth."

  "Come in."

  Kevin pushed open the door, walked with her over to the bed where her brother sat, clutching Andrea's hand. Brad's eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, focussed on their mother.

  "Mom," she said, her voice low and gentle.

  "She can't hear you, Beth. Speak a little louder," Brad said.

  She stood beside him. Andrea opened her eyes, looked past them at something just beyond, but turned them on her children. "Beth."

  "I'm here, Mom."

  Her face crumpled, and the blue of her lips darkened. "I'm sorry—"

  "Don't worry; don't worry. We'll talk when you're better."

  "Not getting—"

  "Yes, you are. Yes, you are. You can't leave us."

  Brad heard the pleading in his sister's voice, remembering when their father had left. Don't leave us, she cried after him as he stormed out the door, and she turned on their mother in a rage, blaming her for their father leaving. A few months later he was dead, alone on the side of a northern road. It had all gone to hell then.

  Beth's hand crept into his, he hesitated, and squeezed her fingers, holding them gently, lest, bird-like, they flutter away.

  The memory of a smile drifted across Andrea's face, and she closed her eyes again.

  "They're coming," Beth said, half a question, half a hope.

  "Yes. Thomas reached them, and the helicopter will be here as soon as the weather breaks."

  "You go if you can. We'll come as soon as possible."

  "Yes. We'll talk about what to do."

  Her eyes met his and tears crept down her face. He hadn't seen her cry since their dad left.

  "She'll be all right. She'll be in a hospital soon."

  She nodded her head and leaned against Kevin, but she didn't let go of Brad's hand. A ray of late afternoon sunshine crept through the crack in the drapes and played for a moment across Andrea's face.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Anne stood at the kitchen window, watching the shadows lift. The morning brought blue skies and sunshine. The ice shrouding the fir trees glowed an unearthly green, like a rock formation on Venus. Glints like flashing diamonds danced across the snow. Above the trees, a helicopter roared its approach.

  Behind her, Thomas, David, Eloise and the children waited.

  "They've come," she said.

  Beth and Kevin clattered down the stairs. "Which one?" said Beth.

  "Orange. The medical one."

  "Thank God. They'll take Mom now, won't they?"

  "Yes."

  Another engine announced the arrival of a white and orange Ontario Hydro truck in the lane. Men in winter overalls, orange to match the vehicles, carrying chainsaws, waved but didn't come across the wire.

  Thomas and David strode across the field to meet the paramedics. Once the crew came inside, Anne took them upstairs to Carmel. They stabilized her with an intravenous and took her downstairs and went back for Andrea. Once both were ready and they had spoken to base, they flew off.

  Brad wa
tched from the window. "When will the next one be here?"

  "The police should be next," Thomas said.

  "But it's all over. We can tell them who the killer was and that he's dead."

  "We'll see."

  Would they charge her, Anne wondered. Or would they look at the size of Trevor and the size of her, at the bruises rapidly developing on her arms and across her face and conclude the story was true? After her experience in Bermuda, when she was accused of murder and in Spain, when a policeman made a false case against her, she had less trust.

  A helicopter on approach roared over the house and settled in the spot flattened by the medivac. Uniformed men dropped to the ground and headed her way.

  Hours later, after interviews that stretched into the night, the police left, taking Brad with them to his mother at the Bancroft Hospital. The detectives accepted the story of the events that had occurred. Eloise told them about watching Trevor drag Anne across the field and showed them the documents Olivia had taken from Vanessa's room. Anne recounted the attempt on David's life and what she did to defend herself.

  "You'll hear from the Crown Attorney or us," the lead detective said. "We think you should go to the hospital and have those bruises documented."

  "We'll go to Peterborough in the morning."

  "Let us know."

  "Yes."

  David and Eloise, Anne and Thomas waved to Brad and the departing police and sat in the kitchen. David got a bottle of cognac from the living room and poured.

  Anne swallowed and shuddered as the fiery liquid hit her damaged throat. "When..." she croaked. She tried again. "When will you go back to Toronto?"

  "I'll go back after the police cleanup crew has been here. It should only take a day or two."

  "And you, Eloise. Will you and the children stay?"

  "Not for too long. We have to call the staff back and arrange for food and so on. They will come later today. And you?"