Icebound

by Julie Rowe

  How could this man be so blind to his own compassion?

  “Feeling okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, I just need to eat something.”

  “Come on, I’ll walk you to the kitchen. You can fill me in on this preliminary exam on the way.”

  Emilie explained the procedure, saying that unless something else stood out, like a blow to the head, or signs of a heart attack or stroke, she wouldn’t do a full autopsy.

  They both got a cup of coffee. Tom loaded up on eggs and hash browns, but one sniff told Emilie to only grab a couple of pieces of toast.

  “That’s not going to be enough,” he said, looking at her plate.

  “It’s all I can handle first thing in the morning. I promise to eat more when my stomach has calmed down.”

  His face turned cherry red. “Right.” He bent his head and shoveled the food in his mouth.

  Emilie nibbled on her toast watching Tom eat fast enough to give a crocodile indigestion. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry.

  Less queasy, she stole a few forkfuls of his scrambled eggs.

  “Thief,” he said when she snitched the first bite.

  “You’ve got enough for three.”

  A smile flashed across his face and he slowed down a little.

  People began coming over to talk to them, asking about the accident and how Tyler was.

  Tom gave everyone a thorough explanation. Emilie added details about Tyler’s medical condition, and between the two of them, they managed to relieve a lot of worried folks.

  “We make a good team,” she said after the last crew member thanked them and left for work.

  “Yeah.”

  She blinked. Did he just agree with her?

  “I’ve never had a problem working with you, Em.” He grabbed his tray and stood. “What time to do you want to start the exam?”

  She held in a sigh. Though she knew why he did it, it hurt every time he rejected the relationship they could have, the child they’d created. “I can start now. Once I’ve done the exam I’ll call Nexadren, discuss the results and decide if an autopsy is necessary.”

  “I hope this is all we have to do.”

  “So do I.”

  Neither of them said anything for a moment.

  Tom looked at her, his mouth a grim line. “This is what I mean about this place being dangerous.”

  Frustration made her tone harsher than she intended. “I know the risks, but you said it yourself, Nexadren won’t send a plane for anything less than a life-threatening emergency.”

  “I know, but I can’t stop thinking about…”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. Where do you want to do the exam?”

  “Why not the closet?”

  Tom nodded, turned and left the cafeteria.

  Emilie poured a second cup of coffee to take with her.

  Carol came out of the kitchen and headed toward her. “Hey.”

  “Morning.”

  “Are you okay?” Carol studied her with arms crossed over her chest. “Because you look like crap.”

  “I just said the same thing to Tom.” Emilie smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Did you eat?”

  “Some toast, some eggs.” Her smile dissolved. “Not much of an appetite right now.”

  Carol winced. “Yeah. How about I fix you a well-rounded lunch?”

  “Sure, but no tomatoes.”

  “Why not?”

  “The thought of eating anything red today is repugnant.”

  “Oh.” Carol swallowed hard. “Right.”

  “I’ll see you later,” Emilie said with a limp wave.

  “At lunch.” Carol punctuated her remark by pointing with one finger.

  Emilie went back to the clinic and sent Stan to bed. Tyler was awake now, so she checked his vitals and was pleased to see his pupils reacting normally.

  “How do you feel?” she asked as she charted his results.

  He wouldn’t even look at her. “Like somebody chewed me up and spit me out.”

  “I’d say that’s normal.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “I’m going to be in and out this morning, so I’m recruiting someone to stay with you. Is there anyone specific you’d like to have around?”

  He was silent for several seconds. “J.J.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, he’s perfect, he can’t stand me.”

  Emilie opened her mouth to tell him J.J. might have had a change of opinion, but closed it before she could say anything. Let Tyler find that out for himself.

  She called J.J.’s scientific team and asked if they could spare him. He arrived at her door in minutes.

  She took him aside with Tyler’s chart to explain what would and wouldn’t be happening during the morning hours. “I just gave him some painkiller and a light sedative so he’s going to be sleepy, but don’t be surprised if he says something belligerent or confrontational.”

  “Why would he want to pick a fight?”

  “Bob was his friend and Tyler thinks the accident is his fault. It isn’t, but we haven’t been able to convince him of that.”

  J.J. winced. “I’d probably do the same if it had happened to me.”

  Emilie nodded. “I’m glad you understand. I shouldn’t be long, but you know where I am if you need either Tom or me.”

  She collected her gear and headed to the storage room.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Ready?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, let’s get this done.”

  He pulled the tarp of the gurney, revealing Bob’s body. He lay flat on his back, the way Emilie saw him in the night before, a piece of metal protruding about two inches from his chest.

  She didn’t let her eyes linger on his face. Allowing her emotions to overwhelm her now would not serve Bob. She pulled on a pair of gloves and donned a plastic apron over her clothes, then indicated that Tom should do the same. Taking a deep breath, she nodded at him to help her turn Bob onto his side.

  The piece of metal stuck out of his back three inches.

  “I didn’t realize it completely penetrated the body,” she said, bending close for a visual examination of the wound, front and back.

  “It was pretty tough to see anything out there last night.”

  She touched the metal with one gloved finger. “This is part of a snowmobile?”

  “I think it’s a section of rail from the machine Tyler was driving.”

  “How fast do you think they were going when the collision occurred?”

  “Hard to say, but from the violence of the crash and the dispersal of the debris, I’d guess Tyler was going at least thirty miles an hour.”

  “That’s pretty fast for a snowmobile, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I discovered what happened to the throttle on Tyler’s machine. A layer of ice built up and glued it down in the fully open position. He couldn’t have moved it unless he took off his gloves, and even then he would have had to chip away at it. It would have taken several minutes for him to correct the problem.”

  “Has it happened before?”

  Tom nodded. “These machines weren’t built to function in temperatures so cold. We modify them so they run on fuel that doesn’t turn to tar at minus one hundred, but other problems occur.”

  “Any way to prevent it?”

  “We de-ice, but it’s like everything in extreme cold—things can freeze shut or open without warning. Wind speed and humidity can change conditions, change the way machines function.”

  “So, could we recommend some new safety protocols for operating machinery below a certain temperature?”

  Tom tilted his head. “I should be able to come up with something, but machine failure and icing problems can’t be completely prevented.”

  “I understand, but we should show we’ve learned something as a result of this accident.”

  “I agree. Bob was a total safety nut. I don’t understand why he drove right in f
ront of Tyler.”

  “What exactly happened? I’ve heard bits and pieces, but not a coherent timeline of events.”

  “This is what I’ve managed to piece together. Tyler drove along the back side of the station. He passed the building and was coming up to the battery shack when he realized he couldn’t slow down. Bob emerged from the other side of the shack right in front of Tyler. There was no way either one of them could have reacted in time to steer clear.”

  “So, Bob was, in part, responsible?”

  “That’s my opinion.”

  “Would you be willing to sign your name to it?”

  Tom nodded. “I’m going to have to. An accident inquiry is standard procedure.”

  “I’m not surprised. Well, let’s see what we can see.”

  She grabbed a digital camera and took pictures of Bob from several angles. Then she began removing his clothing, but found it difficult because blood from his wound had glued the layers of fabric together.

  Tom assisted her, pulling Bob’s parka zipper down with brute strength. They peeled it off, cutting through it so it didn’t disturb the metal in his chest. Then they removed the rest of Bob’s clothes, soaked in blood and beginning to smell.

  Emilie concentrated on breathing through her mouth, rather than her nose, to keep from throwing up.

  The metal had pierced Bob’s skin, leaving a wide, jagged hole. It had punched its way through the muscle, rib cage, and rib cage again.

  “He never had a chance,” Tom said, his voice hoarse.

  “No, but I have to wonder if this killed him, or if he was already dead when Tyler hit him.”

  “What do you mean, already dead?”

  “You said Bob drove out right in front of Tyler. Why would he do that? What if he was already incapacitated by a heart attack or stroke?”

  “Wouldn’t he have just stayed where he was if something like that had happened?”

  “Not always. Sometimes people can still manage to function for a few seconds after a major injury or vascular accident. We step on the gas if we’re in a car, try to reach a phone or even—” she deliberately made eye contact with Tom, “—lash out in self-defense.”

  Tom gazed back with a self-mocking twist to his lips. “Maybe. Maybe he just wasn’t thinking or made a bad decision, and paid with his life.”

  “That’s not what the evidence says. Look at his mouth.” Emilie drew a circle around it in the air with one finger. “It’s blue.”

  “It’s cold outside.”

  “Compare that with his fingers, they’re white. His lips are ringed with blue, signifying a lack of oxygen. It’s one of the first visible signs of cardiac arrest.”

  Tom stared at Bob’s lips with huge eyes. “Are you telling me he might have had a heart attack out there?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “How do we find out for sure?”

  “I have to get inside his heart.”

  “He hasn’t got one anymore,” Tom said, gesturing at the metal sticking out of Bob’s chest.

  “The visual evidence along with his uncharacteristic behavior might be enough to say it was a heart attack, but if you want to be certain, there could be enough of his heart left for me to make a definitive determination of cause of death.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “That would explain a lot and give his family some closure.”

  “We could all use that.”

  He swallowed like it hurt going down. “You want to do an autopsy?”

  She shook her head. “I just want to examine his heart.” Looking around the tiny room, she grimaced. “But this isn’t the best place for it. The smell alone is getting to me and we’ve only been in here a few minutes.”

  “I’ll see if I can create a homemade Hazmat room with some kind of air filter to keep the smell down.” He stared at the floor, and she could almost see how fast he was thinking. “Can you finish here for now?”

  “I’m good.”

  He pulled off his gloves and apron and threw them in the trash, then headed for the door. He stopped just before he opened it to turn and look at her. “Tyler?” That one word conveyed several questions at once.

  “No, I’m not going to tell him anything until after I’ve had a look at Bob’s heart.”

  “Good,” Tom said, his mouth a grim line. “You wouldn’t do him any favors telling him a theory that turns out to be wrong.”

  “What, that this accident had two victims, that both parties bear responsibility for it, that he’s wrong to blame himself entirely?” She put her hands on her hips. “Let me tell you something, every accident, argument or fight has two sides, two combatants. Two. And here’s the big news flash: both parties share responsibility. Did you hear that word, share?”

  “I heard.” Tom shook his head. “You need to take those rose-colored glasses off once in a while and see the world the way it really is, in shades of gray.”

  What was it going to take to convince him he wasn’t the monster he thought he was? “Gray? That’s one-dimensional thinking and you’re better than that.”

  “Be careful you don’t build this pedestal you’ve got me on too high.” He waved his arms around, pretending to balance on something small and wobbly. “I might be tempted to jump.”

  “Very funny.”

  He shrugged and opened the door. “Just a friendly warning. I’m not as noble as you seem to think.”

  Emilie stared after him. So completely wrong. His actions shouted the truth. He showed no hesitation when faced with a challenge like examining the corpse of a friend so she could search for evidence of a deeper medical problem than a piece of steel in his chest. Tom just went to work, figuring out a solution.

  He had a heart, a big one. She just had to get him to see it, admit it.

  Emilie went back to examining Bob’s body, but didn’t find anything else of note. She recovered him, removed her gloves and apron and left the closet with the intent to return to her desk and write out her preliminary report.

  Shouting inside the clinic made her pause.

  “Don’t be such a damn coward!”

  That sounded like Tom. She pushed the door open. He stood in front of Tyler’s bed. J.J. stared at Tom from a few feet away, his jaw hanging slack.

  “The only way to get through this is to go through it,” Tom growled at Tyler.

  “Look who’s talking,” Tyler said, his voice not quite as loud. “You don’t even know if your dad beat your brothers and sisters or not after you left. They needed you, but you were gone.”

  “Yeah, I left, but I made sure my family was taken care of. My father never laid a hand on them. It wasn’t perfect,” Tom added, “but I found a solution. You can too, but you have to be willing to work for it.”

  Tyler just lay there.

  “Bob would have been ticked off if you didn’t figure this out,” J.J. said.

  Tom grunted. “He never could put up with whining.”

  Tyler looked at J.J. “I can’t believe you’re on Tom’s side.”

  “Why, because we’ve butted heads before? This is a whole lot more important than that. Tom’s right, if you throw who you are away because of guilt, you’re taking the coward’s way out.”

  “I killed a man!”

  “Yeah, Bob’s dead,” Tom said. “Don’t add to the problem. I’ve got enough corpses to worry about.”

  Tyler looked away and mumbled, “Suicide isn’t on my list.”

  “There are all kinds of ways to die, my friend,” Tom told him. “It’s living that takes guts.”

  Emilie gasped. If only he could take his own advice.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Tyler took out his IV.”

  She hurried to the bed. Tyler’s forearm and the side of his bed had blood smeared and splattered all over, a Band-Aid where his IV used to be and a new line inserted an inch to the right.

  “I didn’t see him do it,” J.J. said. “I came over to try talking to him one more time and saw—” he pointed at the mess, “
—all that.”

  “Quit talking about me as if I’m not lying right here,” Tyler said, scowling at everyone.

  Tom turned his head and glared at him. “Does that mean you’re finally paying attention? Wise up. Don’t pull another stunt like this again.”

  “Or you’ll what?”

  “Hog-tie you to this bed, boy, that’s what.” Tom nodded at Emilie. “Watch him close. I have to get started on that special project.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a quick glance at Tyler. “For everything.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  J.J. stepped closer to Tyler’s bed. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll stop by later too.”

  “I don’t want you here,” Tyler told him.

  J.J. grunted. “Too bad, because I’m coming anyway.”

  Tyler frowned at J.J.’s back as he followed Tom through the doors, then turned his attention on Emilie. “This is such crap. Why is everyone being so nice to me when I killed Bob?”

  “Did you?”

  “I was there, I was the one driving the snowmobile that killed him.”

  “Yes, but that’s only half the story.”

  “That’s all I need to know.”

  “I disagree, and obviously so do Tom and J.J.”

  “What other explanation is there?”

  “I have several questions about the accident you can’t answer.”

  “Like what?”

  “Why did Bob drive out in front of you? He had to have heard you coming. Why was he behind that shed in the first place and how long had he been there? Your machine was malfunctioning, not his, so why didn’t he stop?”

  Tyler’s frown deepened. “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly. Maybe you should think about that for a while instead of wallowing in this angry pity party you’ve thrown for yourself.”

  He stared at her, but didn’t reply.

  Emilie checked his IV and vitals then went to her desk to chart it all and give him some time to think. She couldn’t force him to forgive himself, only he could do that. Something Tom obviously had never done. It surprised her to hear him say he’d arranged to care for his siblings after he left home. Not the action of a man who blindly ran away.

  She wrote an email to Nexadren with the initial findings of her examination of Bob’s body and his out-of-character behavior immediately prior to the accident. She included a formal request to examine his heart to determine if he’d suffered a heart attack.