On Thin Ice

by Linda Hall

  Her grandmother quickly corrected herself and said, “Not Alec. The other one. Bryan.” But by this time Megan was alone in the room.

  At the time, it seemed that Alec knew something about her grandmother’s fall, something he wasn’t telling her.

  She looked over at him. Because she had to know she asked, “You never told me in so many words, but do you still think your brother is innocent?”

  It took him a long time to answer, so long that she actually looked away from him and at the white scenery speeding by. His silence said it all. He still didn’t believe his brother had pushed her.

  His answer then surprised her. “I don’t know.” He said each word carefully, clearly. He shook his head slowly and said it again. “I really don’t know. At the time, yes, I thought he was innocent, because I couldn’t imagine why he would do anything to harm your grandmother. She was a lovely lady. It made no sense. But in the years that have passed, I have wondered.” She nodded up at him and swallowed. “I’m being honest with you, Megan.”

  “Does your mother think Bryan is innocent?”

  “She says she does, but there are times when I think she’s saying that just because she feels she is supposed to and not because she really believes it anymore.” He said, “She has one son who is a convicted killer and one son who is a cop.”

  Megan measured her words carefully. “And you feel you have to always be the one to give him the benefit of the doubt?”

  Alec looked at her, his dark eyes hooded. “Someone has to.”

  Megan closed her eyes. Nothing had changed. This was something they wouldn’t get past. He had apologized for not being there for her, for leaving her and the baby, but his family would always come first. She realized this now.

  It hurt her so profoundly that this man who had just kissed her so tenderly still didn’t quite believe her. She knew that if Alec had to do it over again, he would probably make exactly the same decision that he had twenty years ago.

  This would always be between them.

  She turned away from him, blinking away hot tears. She was remembering. There was always a darkness stirring just beneath the surface of Bryan’s eyes. They would be joking and laughing, having a wonderful time and Megan might say something that she thought was pretty funny and suddenly Bryan would get a serious look on his face and say, “Megan, that’s not funny.” And he was serious. In short, she was a little afraid of him. That’s why they only went out a few times. She never told this to Alec.

  Even when Bryan came along on their dates, she didn’t complain that sometimes she was afraid of him.

  You don’t mind do you that he comes along on our picnic? He’s had a bit of a rough day.

  Sure, sure, I don’t mind.

  She could tell Alec wanted to kiss her when he dropped her at her cabin at Trail’s End. And she felt so drawn to him that she wanted him to. And then she forced herself to get back in control. She backed away from him, fled inside her cabin and closed the door behind her. From around the edge of the curtain she could see the way he looked at the cabin door, puzzled for a few minutes, before he drove away.

  Earlier she had toyed with the idea of inviting him in for a cup of coffee by the fireplace, but not now. She decided to e-mail her godmother Eunice. She needed to talk to a friend. Even if it was only by e-mail. Plus, someone should know that she was really here and not holed up in her apartment in Baltimore.

  She ended up telling her godmother all about Alec, the murders, everything.

  Her phone rang at ten-thirty and eagerly she answered it thinking the only person it could be was Eunice. They would have a good, long talk. Maybe Eunice would even pray for her over the phone like she did sometimes.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “Hey there,” said a male voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Brad from next door. Welcome home.” He chuckled and in her mind she could see the glimmer of those big, white teeth.

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, have you had a chance to cook up a Web design for me yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been away all day. Just got home.”

  “Not just all day, but all night, too. We came over. You weren’t there. Place was all locked up. We were worried about you.”

  Megan was momentarily irked. She was a grown woman after all. She said, “I’m fine. Why would you be worried about me?”

  “Oh.” He chuckled again. It was a big and hearty sound. “Not me so much, but Vicky. You know Vicky. She can be a mother hen at times.”

  No, I don’t know Vicky. What Megan didn’t need right now, with threats and murders on her mind, was someone she didn’t even know worrying about her.

  “Vicky really was worried. Especially when your car was there all night and you weren’t. We thought maybe you’d gone out hiking and got lost in the woods. I thought of checking with Steve and Nori. Vicky was ready to call the police,” Brad said.

  Megan softened. Maybe this was just honest concern. She wasn’t used to people, other than Eunice, worrying about her. Maybe that’s all this was. “I’m sorry that you were worried. I’m fine, really,” she said.

  “So,” he said. “What about my Web site?”

  “Brad, look, some things have been happening. If I’m still here a week from now, then maybe we could get together and go over it. Maybe after my own business here is done.”

  “What business do you have here in the middle of winter, sugar?”

  “Personal business. Uh, Brad, I’m not really comfortable with people calling me sugar.”

  He laughed. “Oh. Sorry. That’s just me. I call everybody sugar. That’s what my mother called me. But I’ll try to remember not to call you sugar ever again.”

  “I would appreciate it.”

  “Hey,” he said. “What about right now? I’m still up. So, apparently, are you. If I came over there, I could show you what I want in terms of a Web site.”

  At ten-thirty at night? Megan tried to keep her voice light. In her line of work, she never wanted to turn away business. She needed every penny. But she also didn’t want a strange man coming over to her place at ten-thirty at night. “I’d love to Brad, but right now I’m afraid you wouldn’t get your money’s worth. I’m so exhausted I’m not thinking straight.”

  “I understand. Sorry if I intruded. I’m really sorry about that. Sometimes I need someone to give me a good punch to the back of my neck. I live on my own. That’s why I need a good woman to keep me in line.” More chuckles.

  A good woman? She was beginning to doubt whether she needed this guy’s business bad enough. “That’s okay,” she said.

  “You have a nice night and pleasant dreams.”

  “Same to you,” she said.

  “And if you dream about me I won’t mind.”

  She blinked and said goodbye. No, he definitely was not the kind of guy she wanted invading her space at ten-thirty at night. Before she went back to her e-mail, she made sure her curtains were drawn tightly and that her door was locked, and the dead bolts secured.

  She sat on her bed, her computer in her lap, and clicked through some links. One client’s Web site was nearly completed. All she had to do was come up with a few more bits of artwork for one of the links. She would concentrate on that now, instead of thinking about Brad.

  Twenty minutes later she knew exactly why Bryan’s girlfriend Lorena had looked so familiar. She gazed down at the picture on her screen for several minutes. It was close to midnight. She wondered if she should phone Alec this late. Even though this probably had nothing to do with the murders, Alec should know. His mother should know.

  There, on the computer screen, was Lorena. That same bored, pouty expression. That same stance. Except that in this picture, she wasn’t leaning up against a palm tree, she was leaning against a fence. Same picture. Just manipulated from that setting to this one.

  Lorena, Bryan’s girlfriend, was not a real person. Megan regularly used stock photo
graphy for her work. In her surfing this evening, she had found “Lorena” at a site that assembled faces from stock photos to be purchased for use in products and advertisements. The name of this particular made-up woman was “Mandy.”

  Megan was puzzled. Alec’s mother said that Bryan had met Lorena online. She seemed to indicate that the two were getting married, that they knew each other well. But that was impossible. She tapped her fingers on her computer. It was one of two things, she thought. Either the so-called Lorena was leading him on, or else Bryan was lying.

  She bookmarked the page and then went to bed. She made a mental note to call Alec first thing in the morning. Even though their future was looking more and more doubtful, he should know this.

  Hours later, a knock at the door woke her.

  Sleepy-eyed, she forced herself up. The knock was insistent. Through the window, she saw the early-morning gray. She threw on her robe, tied it around her, ran a hand through her hair and went to the door.

  A deliveryman stood on her front step with armloads and armloads of flowers. So full and so huge were the blossoms, she could barely see his face behind them. But what she did see of him was grinning widely.

  “A delivery,” he managed to say over the top of the riot of colors.

  “What? Here? At my cabin?” Were these from Alec? Could it be?

  She smoothed her hair out of her face. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “Is this the cabin named Grace?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I was instructed to get these to the Trail’s End cabin called Grace by seven this morning. No later. The guy paid extra.”

  Alec, she thought. He had discerned how upset she was yesterday. The flowers meant that he finally believed her. She touched her mouth and remembered the kiss.

  The delivery guy continued, “Whoever sent them must think you’re pretty special. Do you have a vase? Or two? You’re going to need more than one.”

  “I have no idea what this cabin has.” She took one of the bouquets from his arms and laid them on the counter.

  She took the other bouquet and placed it beside the first one.

  “Sign here,” he said.

  She did so. “Who are they from?” she asked innocently, although of course she knew.

  “There’s a note in that first batch of flowers over there.”

  She saw it, the tiny square envelope had her name on it—Meggie. She smiled to herself. His name for her.

  After the delivery guy left, she found four quart-size large-mouthed canning jars. She filled each with water and divided up the flowers. There were roses, violets, mums, baby’s breath.

  She placed two jars on the kitchen table and the other two on the coffee table. Then, standing next to the counter, she opened the little flowered note card and read it.

  The moan that came from her mouth seemed to emanate from someplace deep within her very core. Fingers quivering, she dropped the card as if it burned. She reached to the table to steady herself as she fell, whimpering, quivering to the floor. As she did so, she knocked over one of the mason jars of flowers. It broke at her feet, glass shards, water and petals scattering everywhere beside her. And the note staring up at her in block letters: ABORTION IS A SIN!!

  TEN

  An hour later, there was another knock on her door. Megan ignored it. Her suitcase was open on her bed and she was flinging clothes into it. She had managed to clean up the broken glass, the spilled water and the leaves. She emptied the mason jars, rinsed them out and put them away. She swept the huge bundle of flowers and the offending note into the sports section of the newspaper, wrapped everything up and put it all into the trash can beside her back door. Then she had mopped up the floor.

  As she worked, she came to a decision. She might be drawn to Alec in ways she didn’t want to think about, but it wasn’t worth it. First of all, she was in danger. The note proved it. And second, she didn’t trust herself around Alec. He would only hurt her again and she didn’t want to stick around for that. She would pack up today and get out of here before the storm came. Her tormentor knew exactly where she was now. He knew exactly who she was. She needed to get going. Hadn’t there been enough warnings? The shooting on the lake? The invitation dropped off for her? Now this. She’d had none of this in Baltimore. She needed to get home.

  The persistent knock on her door had interrupted her thoughts. It was probably Brad, she thought, come to look at Web designs. When the knocking didn’t stop, she decided to answer the door. She would go and firmly tell Brad that she couldn’t do his Web site because she was leaving.

  However, it was not Brad. It was Alec at the door and he was wearing some sort of a strange one-piece spacesuit getup that looked like it belonged on the moon. Her face must have betrayed something. “Megan, what’s wrong?” he asked as he entered the cabin.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked.

  “A snowmobile suit,” he said. “A snowmobile is the best way to get where I’m going. My deputy Stu loaned it to me. I got a call that someone saw a truck abandoned way out near Twin Peaks Island. The fishing shacks are across from that. My thought is that this could maybe be the truck I saw the first day we met.”

  “The guy who was shooting at us, you mean.”

  “Right.” He seemed to notice her suitcases for the first time and her already packed up computer. “You’re leaving?” His look seemed to convey surprise, and maybe something underneath that—pain.

  “I have to. I have to go now.” She was twisting her hands nervously in front of her.

  “Is there something wrong? Is your godmother okay?”

  She said, “She’s fine. I got flowers. And a note. This morning. I thought maybe…I thought. I could go somewhere else. Change my name. Disappear.” She was breathing heavily and could only get out a couple of words at a time. Why was she telling him all this when she had vowed she was leaving? She had wanted to be gone by the time Alec made contact with her again.

  “Flowers? What do you mean?”

  She took a breath. “A delivery guy brought a huge, and I do mean huge, bouquet of flowers for me this morning.”

  “Who sent you the flowers? Why did you throw them out?”

  “The note that came with them…” She felt as if she would choke. She swallowed several times before she could continue. “It was—horrible. Awful.”

  “Can I see it?”

  She pointed to the back door. “In the garbage can. Just next to the back door.”

  He went out and came back with her newspaper-wrapped bundle. “Where’s this note you’re talking about?”

  She shrugged. “Somewhere in there. I had to get rid of it. If I’d had a campfire I would’ve burned everything.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  She said, “Be careful of the thorns. There are lots of them.”

  “There are always lots of thorns.”

  She sat down on a kitchen chair, suddenly so weary. She brought her legs up to her on the seat and hugged her knees to her chest. If she didn’t maintain some sort of cool, she would turn into a drippy mess of weepy tears. She needed him to leave, but she hoped he would stay. Finally, he unearthed the tiny note card. She watched his eyes as he read it.

  After a while he looked up, clearly puzzled. “This came with the flowers?”

  “Yep.”

  “I don’t understand what it means, Megan. Abortion is a sin. What’s all that about?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have any idea. It’s the next part.”

  He read the note aloud in its entirety. “‘Abortion is a sin. God forgives sin. We’ll have many more children to replace the one you killed.’ What does this mean?”

  “I don’t understand any of it. But what it means for me is that whoever sent me the flowers knows where I’m staying. He killed my friends. I’m so scared.” She was huddled into herself and trembling. He came and pulled up a chair beside her and put his arms around her and held her until her shaking stopped. I
t felt so safe being there, yet she hated being this conflicted.

  A few moments later, he put water in the kettle and set it on her stove to boil. He said, “Can I make something hot for you? Hot chocolate? Coffee? Soup? Something to warm you up?”

  “I thought you had an important meeting.”

  “You’re more important, Meggie,” he said, reverting to his old name for her. “I’ve been talking to Steve about this. Could this be someone from your work? Someone who has researched your past? I’m thinking that we should maybe get a copy of your complete client list to Steve. He has channels I don’t even have.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. Her client list included a couple of insurance companies, a drama troupe, a bank, a bicycle shop, a couple of rock stars, a sushi bar, none of whom seemed particularly threatening to her. She told Alec this. She thought back to her client correspondence. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everyone paid their bills on time and none of their checks ever bounced. “I don’t even know what half my clients look like so one of them could have black hair and I wouldn’t know it.”

  “Steve will know what to do with that list.” He added, “I’m just thinking about something else now. Your godmother knew you were pregnant, could she have let it slip? Plus, there would have been doctors and hospital reports. Maybe that’s what the note is all about.”

  “Alec.” She almost quivered with anger. “I did not have an abortion. I wanted our baby. How could someone write that? And anyone looking at the hospital records—if they still exist—would know that I carried that baby almost to term. He died in my womb. I didn’t know he was sick. I blame myself. I was young and stupid and hurting and I should’ve gotten better prenatal care.”

  She was crying again, blubbering and he came and held her once more. He said gently, “You did not kill our child. The baby had a serious heart defect and never had a chance.”

  “That’s what the doctor told me,” she said, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “But maybe he was just being kind. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt me. And as for Eunice, she wouldn’t tell anyone. I know she wouldn’t.”