Thin Ice

by Paige Shelton

  “I knew something was up with you.” Trinity smirked.

  “So?” Donner said.

  “Her instincts are good, Donner, and she was with you the day you found George. She’ll stay out of the way,” Gril said.

  It was probably a rare moment when a police department was in such dire need of assistance that they’d ask the visibly injured new person in town to help with an investigation. But Gril needed help. He hid it well, but he was scared for someone—either George or Willa or both—and he was just as willing as Viola had been to break the rules to get to some answers. I was at least potential help.

  Donner didn’t want me to go along, but he worked to hide his irritation. Again.

  “What did you do? At the police department.”

  “Honestly, it was a long time ago, but I’m good with numbers. Measurements. It helped sometimes. I liked the tedium and could get lost in it.” I cleared my throat.

  “You weren’t a police officer?”

  “No, I just helped.” I might tell him I was a secretary someday but not today.

  “Let’s go,” Donner said.

  I followed him out to his truck.

  When we were both belted in, he rubbed his hand over his beard-covered chin and sighed. He forced some words. “I appreciate your experience, but you need to stay out of my way.”

  “I know that, and I will.”

  “Good. All right, we’re going to drive up to the Rafferty cabin and search behind it. You’re wearing your new boots?”

  “I am.” I looked down at them. “They saw some mud today, but they’re good to go.”

  “Do you have a jacket?”

  He knew the answer, but I said, “No.”

  “Reach behind the seat and grab one of mine. In fact, here’s another lesson, always make sure you keep extra jackets and bottles of water in your truck. Just in case.”

  Sounded like winter travel preparations in St. Louis, but I said, “Okay,” as I reached and grabbed.

  We were silent the rest of the way until we reached the cabin. It had a distinct look of sad abandonment. I sensed no one was inside.

  “Give me a second to see if anyone is there, but then come in when I signal,” Donner said as he hopped out of the truck.

  He didn’t lock his door and I resisted an urge to lock mine and his. I wasn’t scared, but it seemed like the safe thing to do. I still didn’t though.

  I watched Donner open the cabin’s front door and disappear inside. The loudest thing in the truck was my breathing; it was airy and accelerated. I took a deep pull of old-truck-scented oxygen and tried to slow everything down.

  I looked at the trees. There was nothing out of place; no people in sight. No animals either. Just trees, dark and deep. The sky was cloudy, but it wasn’t raining. It would soon; it always did. I gripped Donner’s jacket tighter.

  A few seconds after worry began to creep in, Donner appeared at the door and signaled me to join him. I hurried to the cabin.

  “This place has been gone through, fingerprints taken. Look around and tell me if you see anything that would help us know where George and Willa might have gone,” he said.

  I nodded and began. “Okay.”

  I stood in the entryway, the spot where Linda had shot herself. Most of the blood had been cleaned away but there were still visible stains on the floor and the walls. At first it seemed like there was nothing else to see. Other than the blood, it was just the small, comfortable home of a couple of people who wanted to get away from the rest of the world.

  I didn’t have a tape measure. Neither did Donner, but I guessed it matched up with what I’d read.

  I stepped into the living room.

  One couch and one chair. A side table and a coffee table. Books stacked on a lower shelf of the side table. I startled when I noticed one of mine there. 37 Flights, the one I’d stolen my “filing consultant” career from. It was on the top of the stack, with the back cover swung open. There, on the back flap, was my picture. The old me, the one who wasn’t ever really me anyway, the person Levi had become obsessed with. Not only did I recognize her less and less as time ticked by, oddly, I was beginning to resent her more and more. I swallowed fear and bitterness that moved up my throat. My internal response was unreasonable, but something told me it was normal. I really needed to get some help. This book had sold millions worldwide, so it wasn’t too weird that a copy was here, in a cabin in Alaska. But the back flap being opened? Was that supposed to mean something?

  “Beth?” Donner said.

  I’d have to worry about it all later. “Sorry. Someone likes thrillers, but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “Perhaps you could work on your personal library later,” he said, his irritation thick.

  “Sure.” I closed the flap, hiding the me Donner probably wouldn’t recognize anyway.

  We looked everywhere but found nothing that told us where George and Willa might be. There was nothing personal in the house. It was an un-homey house. Somehow, they had made a cozy cabin in the woods sterile and unwelcoming. Probably a result of their identity changes.

  “There’s not much there at all,” I said when we were back outside.

  “I’d looked through it after Linda’s body was removed, but it hasn’t changed much. The bed wasn’t made then, still isn’t, but I can’t tell if it’s in the same state it was. I can’t tell if George has slept here or not.”

  “Did he say anything else the day he woke up from that weird sleep?”

  “No.” There was emotion to that one word that seemed over the top.

  “Hey,” I said as I put my hand on his arm. I couldn’t help asking. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, and I won’t tell if you do, but were you and Linda involved?”

  Donner bit his bottom lip and looked at me a long moment. “No, Beth, we weren’t, but we might have been. If she hadn’t been married.”

  “I see.”

  “We were friends, liked old movies and baseball, talked often about them both. She was a Detroit Tigers fan. We had a lot in common, but she was married. Nothing happened, and I didn’t know her secrets. Gril knows everything about the two of us.”

  “Does Gril know about the Detroit Tigers part?”

  Donner blinked. “Yes, I told him after I heard about the jacket.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Really,” I said.

  Donner nodded once, quickly. “I want to go around and search the woods. Do you want to come with me or wait in the truck? Your call, but you’ll need to keep up.”

  “I can keep up.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  I followed him and really, really hoped I could keep up.

  Thirty-One

  As we started out, the phone I carried buzzed in my pocket. I’d set it up for email notification. I took it out and tried to access the email. The notification had happened, so we must have hit a pocket of service, but we were out of that pocket quickly and I didn’t even consider asking Donner to wait. As we trudged forward, I kept an eye on the phone, looking for a bar or two. Was Detective Majors writing with something important?

  A bar popped up and I hurried to open the email. It was from my mother. It was short and it made no sense.

  B. Girl—remem the fire note?

  I was familiar with the format. She was drunk emailing, and I had no idea what she was trying to say. I was irritated by the distraction.

  Except, there was something about it. I knew there was something there. But I’d have to figure it out later. I put the phone back in my pocket.

  “Something important?” Donner asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, no, not really.” I looked toward the woods. “There’s no visible path. Where would George have come from when he came around the cabin?” I asked as we peered into the woods.

  “Good question. He didn’t remember, and none of us pushed him too hard on it. Hang on a sec.”

  Donner looked at the ground along an uneven perimet
er. No space was free of a vine or a weed. I saw a flower and had a moment of panic that I was seeing another daisy where there wasn’t one, but it wasn’t a daisy and it was a real flower.

  “Here, this way looks somewhat worn.” He high-stepped over a tangle of weeds and moved quickly into the thick woods.

  I followed behind and did as I said I would do; I kept up, but it was hard work.

  “I hear water,” I said breathlessly. I’d been listening for everything—wildlife, voices, anything, but our footfalls and my breathing were the only noises that came through until the rushing sound hit my ears.

  “We’re close to the river.” Donner sped up, presumably toward said river.

  He stopped on the edge of a precipice and I stopped next to him, my calves and lungs relieved for the break.

  “Now, that’s a river,” I said.

  I’d seen my share of rivers, including two of the big ones in the lower forty-eight that bordered my home state, but I’d never seen anything up close like this one. From the plane, I’d seen rushing water, but in person, the ferocity of the foamy water was beyond intimidating.

  “You have to be careful around them,” Donner said, but even he knew that lesson wasn’t necessary to vocalize. He smirked at himself.

  “Good fishing though.” His eyes scanned the river and then the woods across. “Shit. What’s that?”

  I followed his glance and soon saw the splash of blue that had garnered his attention.

  “Could be anything. A piece of fabric, denim maybe,” I said. “Doesn’t look like it’s attached to anyone.”

  “No, but that can be deceiving. I need to get over there.”

  “Is there a bridge?”

  “Not anywhere near here.” He started to search for something.

  Was he going to ride a vine over or fell a tree? It wasn’t a wide river, at least not compared to the mighty Missouri and the Mississippi, but surely it would be impossible to survive if you were swept away by it.

  “Is there a way around to over there?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He stopped searching and looked at me. “I’m going to give you some gloves and my keys. Once I get over there, I want you to drive around and pick me up. It’ll take you about ten minutes. I can cross in a couple.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. From the cabin, take the first right, then right again, then left. You’ll find me at the end of that dirt road. You’ll see it. There will be no other options to take anyway, but it’s important that you go right first.” He took my hand and folded my fingers around his keys and then handed me some gloves from his pocket.

  “How are you going to get over there?” Panic bubbled in my throat.

  He unhooked something that looked like a thin, black rope from his utility belt and went to work tying it around himself. I watched in silent awe for a moment.

  “Are you swinging over?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I really think we should drive over there,” I said firmly.

  “What if there’s a person who needs help?”

  “We’d still have to get them in the truck.”

  “I can administer first aid. I don’t know if we have ten or fifteen more minutes to help them. I can’t risk it.”

  “But. Well. I don’t—”

  “Beth, come on. Listen to what I say.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m looping the rope around this tree. Here, you hold the end. You’ll have plenty of leverage. If you don’t let go of the rope, I’ll be fine.”

  “Donner!”

  “This will only take a few minutes, and then go, get to the truck.”

  I felt like I needed just one more minute, another instant to make my case. This wasn’t a good idea at all. But I didn’t have that minute; he was moving quickly. I glanced at my watch as I took hold of the rope and watched him hurry away, over the precipice, toward the rushing river water, toward, if not certain at least probable, death.

  I’d never done anything like this before, but I must have seen the concept somewhere; in a movie or on television. I put the gloves on and braced myself. I could only barely see over the lip of the berm and into the river. I braced myself even more as I saw him step into the water.

  His first step was followed immediately by a slip and he went down, falling into a sitting position on what had to be a hard, rocky floor. He stood quickly and waved up at me. “I’m fine.”

  “Right, whatever,” I muttered to myself as I sent him a quick nod, all the while keeping both hands around the rope. It had grown tauter and harder to hold with his slip, but it was better now.

  He moved through the water, but not easily. I hoped he’d be able to walk, but there was none of that. He moved with something like a swim but it was more a bob, and something that felt like an awfully lot to ask of my arms and legs. Wasn’t this going to take at least ten minutes?

  And then halfway across the not-that-wide river, he went under and the rope slipped through my gloved hands.

  “No!” I yelled as I squeezed my fingers and gripped the rope with everything I never knew I had in me.

  And somehow, it worked. Just before the end of it went through my hands, I got a hold of it again, tightly and surely. I gritted my teeth, leaned my body into the tree trunk I’d been propelled into, and held on. If it took Donner forever to cross that river, I would stand there forever. I wasn’t letting go.

  I couldn’t see when he emerged on the other side, but I was thrown to the ground by the now slacked rope. I looked over. Donner was climbing up the other berm and loosening the rope from around his soaked body. He looked back at me and said, “Go!”

  I smiled as a sensation I hadn’t felt … maybe ever, came over me. Yes, I felt a distinct sense of satisfaction with each book I finished, even while writing their terrible first drafts. I loved what I did, and didn’t want to do anything else. But this rush was new, and I liked it.

  That crazy, stupid plan had worked. I’d helped. He couldn’t have done it without me. I looked at my watch. The crossing of the river had not taken even two minutes. An eternity in two minutes.

  I stood and ran to the truck.

  Thirty-Two

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Willa’s bag, backpack. No I.D. but I think I remember seeing it on her,” Donner said as I crouched next to him.

  I’d driven like a bat out of hell to get to him and it had taken the longest ten minutes of my life; longer than the two minutes he’d taken to cross the river, but seemingly by more than a measly eight minutes.

  “Damn.”

  “I looked around and didn’t find anyone, dead or alive. I could search deeper, but I think we need something more organized and more people. I need to get back with Gril, but there’s zero signal out here.”

  I looked at the bag on the ground. Donner had gone through it and the contents were outside of it, spread out for inspection. A wallet, with bills still visible, a comb, some keys, a tube of ChapStick, and a small notebook. There was no identification inside the wallet, no credit or debit cards. Only eighty dollars in cash and a few coins. Even I still carried my identification, in the hidden bag around my waist. I’d thought about destroying it once I made it to Benedict, but if my body ever needed to be identified, the driver’s license would help.

  “Did you look in the notebook?” I asked.

  “Sure did. Nothing, but there were some pages torn from it. Maybe we can figure out what was written on those pages by looking at the top one that’s left.”

  I nodded. “That’s possible. There’s a chemical. Does Gril have any sort of lab?”

  “No, but we might try holding it up to a light or rubbing a pencil over it.”

  “Not as reliable, but it’s been done successfully. Any letter? I saw her reading a letter. She was emotional.”

  “No letter,” Donner said.

  I wondered if Gril had searched or had someone search Willa’s room yet. I didn’t know if Viola had mentioned it to him yet.

  We l
ifted the pack, contents still atop it, and carried it to the truck. Donner placed it on the bench seat in between us and we climbed in.

  “You did good back there,” he said, still soaking wet as he cranked up the heat. “Thanks for helping. I just couldn’t risk the time it would have taken to go around. Someone might have been in imminent danger.”

  “I get that now.”

  I didn’t want to tell him about the rush I’d felt. It didn’t seem quite right. Much about me didn’t seem quite right.

  “I’m glad we didn’t find a dead body,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  “Do you have any sense of what’s going on? Does Gril?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered quickly. “It’s bizarre and unexpected. Now that we know who she really is we looked her up. Willa isn’t a criminal, or she wasn’t. She doesn’t even have a speeding ticket.”

  “There has to be a connection to the previous incarnations of George and Linda.”

  “Seems that way.”

  Donner pulled his truck to a stop in front of the Benedict House. “You’re good to go, but I do thank you for your help.”

  “You’re welcome.” I was disappointed that he’d brought me home instead of back to the police cabin, but I didn’t argue.

  I hopped out, closed the truck door, and went inside. It was getting darker and the only thing I felt like doing in the dark was going inside.

  No one was around so I made my way to my room, turned the lock, and put the chair under the doorknob. I wanted to think, I needed to sleep.

  Anxiety tightened the muscles in my shoulders and arms. I tried to understand what I was so wound up about but there were so many options that it was impossible to pinpoint anything specific. So much, too much maybe. I thought about setting up my laptop and replying to my mother’s email, but I didn’t have much patience for her drunken communications. I’d talk to her tomorrow.

  Maybe George and Willa would be found overnight, but it would be dark in the woods where we’d found Willa’s backpack. I should have asked Donner if a search party would head out tonight. I thought about calling him, but I didn’t.