Thin Ice Read online

  “It’s a small town,” I said, an unwarranted determination to my words.

  “Right,” Donner said after a pause. “We have no cabs per se. The inns have shuttles, vans, for their guests. Not enough reliable phone or Internet access for Uber.” He paused again, and I knew he sent me another glance, but I kept my eyes forward. “None of my business really, but you seem unprepared for this. No need to give me any details but I feel like I should let you know, if you don’t already, this can be brutal country, a lonely place if you’re used to lots of people. You have other luggage coming?”

  “No. I thought I would buy what I need here.”

  “Okay. Town’s population’s about five hundred, unless it’s summer, and we have visitors, tourists, but winters are long, dark, and isolated. Five hundred can feel like about five, or fewer, in the winter. You can go months without seeing neighbors, even the ones you might consider nearby.”

  “I understand.” I knew my understanding was cursory though, made of things I’d read, movies I’d seen, bits of research I’d done. I’d never lived it. I couldn’t explain how what he was describing was exactly what I wanted though, what I’d spent those precious fifteen minutes on Dr. Genero’s computer looking to find. I knew I seemed unprepared. I was. But I would get up to speed.

  “Keep this date in mind, August fifteenth. It can get tougher to get in and out of here after that. We call that day Freeze-Over.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “Not much for tourism, am I?” Donner said.

  I sent him a quick smile. “I really do understand. I’ll be okay.”

  “You’re hiding from someone or something?”

  “No,” I said a beat too late to be the truth.

  “Okay.”

  “What are you hiding from?” I asked, feeling patronized.

  “Oh, I’m hiding, in a way. Most of us around here are. If we aren’t hiding, we’re searching, maybe just running away. You’ll see.”

  I took in the sights again as I hugged the backpack closer but didn’t ask for more details about what he was hiding from. I suddenly felt too exposed. As surreptitiously as possible I took a deep breath and tried again to calm down, make myself normal. How would I have reacted before Levi Brooks came into my life? I wouldn’t have been frightened. I would have smiled, maybe laughed and told Donner that everything would be okay. I would be noticing everything around me and the way those things and people made me feel. It had become natural to be observant and acutely aware. Who knew what I might be able to add to a book someday. I liked to soak it all in. Used to, at least. I felt none of those things now. I was losing that old me, that carefree person, probably had lost her the second I opened the door and smiled at the bouquet of daisies Levi held.

  “You write?” Donner changed the subject. “That’s a typewriter behind the seat?”

  “Letters. It’s a family heirloom. I didn’t want to risk shipping it.”

  “Smart move. Things don’t travel here easily.”

  I cleared my throat. “I’ll need to buy quite a few things, it sounds like.”

  Donner sent me the same up and down look Hank had. This one wasn’t lascivious either, but it got under my skin more. “I’m not sure the mercantile will have the kinds of clothes you like to wear, but you’ll need warm things and things to keep you dry. You won’t be lower-forty-eight fashionable, but you can get lots of gear at the mercantile. Get in there before the last week of July though. Randy—the owner—places big orders for winter, but … well, the weather is unpredictable, but I’m repeating myself.”

  I’d never shopped for gear before. Or at a mercantile. “I can make that work.”

  “Has to if you don’t have other things.” He shrugged.

  We came upon a more populated area. But only slightly more populated, and only if you included horses in the count. There were three of them, all untethered, unsaddled, and domesticated enough to ignore the truck as we approached. The woods had been mostly cleared away in the bowl-ish cut of land, but some trees, more of the same kind I’d already seen, remained. None of the pictures I’d ever looked at had done justice to size. Alaska’s geography was so big that other things seemed smaller than they normally would, things like Hank’s plane and Benedict’s downtown.

  Two streets, the one we were on and the only other paved one, I assumed, made the T; no, it was more just a corner. Benedict House took up most of the corner, but there was also a bar named “Saloon” and a restaurant named “Food” on one side of the corner. The other side held a “Mercantile” and a “Post Office.” A statue of a friendly-looking bear stood in front of the whole setup.

  “That’s Ben the bear. He’s a black bear. Brown bears, grizzlies, have humps on their backs at the shoulders. You might want to keep the difference in mind. Make noise and big movements with black bears, play dead with grizzlies.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. “I thought there were a few more buildings. I looked at pictures.”

  “You saw old pictures, then, before the fire two years ago. Took out everything but the Benedict House. We’ve been rebuilding, but it’s been slow. We have to barge all supplies in from Juneau, and the winter brings challenges.”

  “A fire? I didn’t read anything about that.”

  Donner shrugged again. “Our news isn’t front-page very often.”

  A surprising wave of relief rolled through me. Not front-page was ideal. “Perfect.”

  Donner laughed once. In my head I heard the words he didn’t speak: So, you are hiding.

  “I’ll get you inside, but I’m sure Gril will be by later. You might as well rest in a room until then, unless you’d like to wait at Food or Saloon,” he said with a wry smile to his voice.

  I looked at the Benedict House. It stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, with its peeling painted white walls, blue trim, ornate metalwork around each window, and golden dome atop. The other buildings were smaller and newer, made only of straight wooden edges, reminding me of old Western storefronts more than actual stores. There was something about the Benedict House. I was drawn to it; however, I hadn’t met any of its other residents.

  “A room sounds great,” I said.

  “All right.” Donner stopped the truck outside the Benedict House’s front door and threw the vehicle into Park.

  “Where do all the five hundred people live?” Other than the Benedict House, there were no other homes nearby; nothing that looked like apartments either.

  “We live around. Lots of houses and cabins in the woods, some just on the edge of town. I have a cabin out there.”

  “Who do the horses belong to?”

  “The Stimsons, but the horses just roam most of the time. They’re friendly, and they like carrots. Brown one is Caramel, black one is Coffee, and the white one is called Cream.”

  “Should be easy to remember. What about the bears though? Are the horses safe?”

  As if they knew I was talking about them, all three horses looked curiously our direction. Caramel lifted a top lip but then seemed to smile, Coffee snorted once, and Cream just stared at me. I wished I had a carrot to share.

  “They’re probably safer than the humans. They can smell a bear coming and run away before it gets there. But it’s a risk. The price we all pay for living here.”

  He said the words as if living there was a privilege. Of course it was. You wouldn’t live here unless you really wanted to, unless you thought it was the perfect place to be. Donner seemed to fit with the surroundings. He seemed so comfortable in his skin, fine with the barest of civilizations. Or was it just that it was all so new to me?

  I looked to our left and was struck by a visual of a swath of ocean in between all the trees and an island on the horizon. “A beautiful view.”

  “It is. The Blue Spike River is over there too.” He nodded to our right. “You probably saw it when you were flying in.”

  “I did.”

  “If you fish or hunt, you’ll find things to do.”
/>   “I look forward to it.” I’d never done either, but fishing didn’t sound as awful as hunting. Maybe I’d give it a try.

  “Let’s get you inside, hopefully locked in a room before any of the criminals get you.”

  I blinked and looked at him. He didn’t smile, at least not that I could see, but I wondered if he’d been joking. He was out of the truck too quickly for me to ask. I took a deep breath, got out too, and grabbed the typewriter.

  Three

  “You’re Beth Rivers,” the woman behind the counter said. She was probably in her seventies and wore no makeup, but the wrinkles that made up her face were so pleasant, it seemed like she’d put them there on purpose, drawn and shadowed them in. I couldn’t see her hair. She wore an Indiana Jones hat that might have seen better days, a long time ago. I thought there might be a coffee stain on her denim jacket. Her bottom half was hidden by the counter, but I guessed she also wore jeans and boots.

  “I am. Viola?”

  “Yes, this is Viola.” Donner looked at her sternly. “What happened to guests only in emergencies?”

  She leaned forward on the counter. “It was an emergency, sweetheart. Ms. Rivers called just a few days ago. She wasn’t going to find anything else on such short notice. We only have three girls right now, so that leaves six rooms open. I keep my girls on the top floor. Ms. Rivers can have this room right by the front door. She can escape easily if necessary.”

  My eyebrows came together.

  They looked at me, and Donner shrugged yet again.

  “Those are good points, Vi,” he said. “But Gril won’t be happy.”

  “Gril’s never happy. It’s in his job description. But he can be the one to tell our guest to leave town when she can’t find anyplace else to stay. I,” she stood up straight and slapped her hand to her chest, “am just being a good host.”

  Donner rolled his eyes as she frowned.

  “You have great eyes, Donner, but I know I’ve told you that,” Viola said.

  I couldn’t help but look. Had I not noticed his eyes? Oh, yes, they were green and had seemed bothered, were still bothered. Between my needing a ride and Viola’s rationalizations, he was probably ready to get back to whatever he’d been doing before this errand the police chief named Gril had sent him on.

  Viola looked at me, but I couldn’t read her expression. Maybe curiosity, maybe she was just waiting for me to say something.

  Donner said, “This room going to be okay for now, Ms. Rivers? I know Hank and Francis would be happy to have you stay with them.”

  “She doesn’t want to stay with two old guys. Look at her. Pretty, young. Ish,” Viola said.

  “Perhaps two old guys would be better than criminals.” Donner picked up the typewriter I’d sat on the floor.

  “I’ve got three thieves, and none of them were armed. Shoplifters down from Anchorage, all of them. They won’t even be here long, maybe gone before Freeze-Over. They’re helping out around town and rehabilitating just fine.” Viola looked at Donner.

  The front door of the hotel slammed open and we all turned as a woman entered. She was barely five feet tall, skinny, and topped with short steely gray hair and black angry eyes. Her thick denim jacket was worn thin at the elbows and misbuttoned.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said before she turned toward one of the hallways. She hadn’t meant it.

  The lobby didn’t disappoint. The front desk and the panels on the walls were made with cherrywood that, like Viola’s hat, had seen better days, but was still beautiful and rich. The box panel behind the front desk held keys, mail, and a variety of personal items. The beige linoleum on the floor was dirty and peeled up at a few corners, but gave the place more an air of “loved well” than “worn out.” A painting of two bears standing on their back legs and facing off had been hung on a side wall. I wondered if it was a paint-by-numbers creation and if it was something Viola had done.

  She wasn’t a small woman, but her bulk seemed strong, if not muscular. She stood even straighter as her eyes followed the other woman. I thought I glimpsed a gun holstered low at Viola’s hip, mostly hidden by her jacket, as I also confirmed that she did wear jeans, but the counter was still in the way for me to get a full view.

  “Willa,” Viola said. “Where you been?”

  Willa stopped and turned to look at Viola, her eyes now resentful but obedient. “I went for a walk. It’s not check-in time yet and I didn’t have to report at the park today.”

  Viola nodded. “But you’ve got dinner duty.”

  “I know. I’m back in time.”

  Viola made a big deal of looking at the watch on her wrist, despite the old windup clock perched on the counter next to her that seemed to be displaying the correct time. “So you are. Get cleaned up and get cooking.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Willa said, the words tight and clipped. She turned and resumed her fast pace down the hallway.

  Viola bit the inside of her cheek and watched the woman walk away. I watched Viola.

  Body language, words spoken in certain tones—all these things meant something. I’d learned as much in that small-town police department, even as a secretary. I’d learned even more from the research for my books, but Gramps had always said there was no better way to learn something than taking a job doing it in a small town. It had been ten years since I’d worked in that office, ten years since research had taken over practical application, and my first book had hit big. And, twelve years since Gramps had died. Those voices from the past often spoke to me when I was researching or writing, loud and clear and confident in my fictional worlds, but this real-life application as I watched everybody was jarring. Willa wasn’t scared of Viola, and Viola wasn’t scared of anyone. Donner just wanted to be done with us all.

  “She any trouble?” Donner asked Viola after Willa disappeared.

  “They’re all trouble at one time or another,” Viola said. “But she makes me want to double-check my pocket for my wallet all the time.”

  Viola did exactly that, patted her back pocket. I had an illogical urge to check for mine but I didn’t.

  “Want me to tell Gril anything?” Donner asked.

  Viola looked down the empty hallway. “Not yet. I’ll let you know.” She turned to me. “The stairway is at the end of that short hall. No elevator. You’re welcome to join us for meals. Don’t worry, I make the cooks test their food in front of us all to make sure it hasn’t been poisoned.”

  I blinked, but, again, neither she nor Donner smiled.

  “What do you think? Want to stay or go?” Donner asked.

  “I’ll stay. Thank you.” I looked at Viola. “Key?”

  “Yep. Right here. I suggest you keep your door locked at all times.”

  Seemed obvious. I nodded at her. I still didn’t think I would be staying long. I’d find something else. Surely. I had plenty of money; didn’t that usually solve these sorts of problems? Getting access to more than I’d hidden in the money belt around my waist was going to be a challenge, but I knew what to do. For now, though, I was in the middle of nowhere, living with felons, and I felt safer than I had in almost a month.

  Donner sent both Viola and me hurried and distracted good-byes, and once I got Viola out of my room, I took off my cap and felt stress slither its way out of my muscles. It had been hard work, behaving normally around all those people.

  My fingertips went to the side of my head and moved gently over the scar. I was behind a closed and locked door. I was far away from that other world, the place where Levi Brooks lived. Mountains, oceans, rivers, trees, bears, and a possibly armed woman were between him and me. He might find me, but not today, not right away. The death Donner spoke about didn’t have anything to do with me, even if it turned out to be murder. I was safe.

  Hopefully.

  It was as if I could almost take a full breath, but only almost. The flashes of memory I’d been having set me on edge. Dr. Genero had mentioned that things might come back to me, but she’d never gone int
o much detail. Was I going to remember big things or only little things like a lumberjack coat and daisies? How distracted was I going to be? Had my rush to leave town delayed these memories, and now that I’d made my escape, what was going to happen?

  I’d hope for the best, ask Dr. Genero at some point if I thought I needed to, but for now I’d have to find a way not to worry about it.

  My room was a comfortable size, clean and tidy. I quickly decided that if the rest of the rooms were as nice as this one, the felons were all treated well. A brass headboard filled the space behind the full-sized bed. A colorful quilt and shams sat atop new cotton sheets and a down comforter. The wood floors weren’t shiny; they were scuffed along the frequently traveled routes. A good-sized desk sat underneath a window with a view of the woods, unless I craned my neck to the right, where I could once again see that swath of ocean.

  The bathroom was tiny but had a tub with a shower, a toilet, and a pedestal sink. Two wooden shelves were attached to the wall above the toilet and were the only places to store anything. Three clean towels and two new rolls of toilet paper sat on the bottom shelf. Though small, it was cozy, decorated with colorful wall tiles. Bears, moose, and puffins were painted on squares that were stuck intermittently throughout the rest of the off-white tiles. I’d have to ask but this must have been a legitimate inn at one time.

  I glanced at my reflection in the old wood-framed mirror.

  “Hello, stranger.”

  I was not yet acquainted with the person looking back. The haircut was my own, a hasty mess I’d created in the hospital bathroom, using scissors that were made for cutting off medical tape and casts. Because of the recent surgery, I couldn’t put dye on my hair, but thanks to Levi Brooks, I got a color change anyway. Because of the terror he had executed so well during my kidnapping, my hair had turned white. The hospital staff had seen it happen before, but not as quickly as it had happened with me. I’d arrived at the hospital a beat-up brunette, but when I’d awakened after emergency surgery and twelve hours of drug-induced rest, something inside of me must have clicked, and caused the color to change. Dr. Genero, always trying to be positive, said that it was much more blond than old-age gray. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I looked nothing like Elizabeth Fairchild, and that was good. Beth Rivers had been born again, different than before she’d become famous.