Under the Ice Read online

  Chapter 10

  Joe and I arrived at Mendon Ponds Park in half an hour. I focused harder on the drive when we got closer, since the roads were icier off-road in the park than on the main roads. We glimpsed several frozen ponds behind the tree lines and began to approach the area where he and Jeanne had gone into the water so many years ago.

  Joe’s face tightened. He reached for the handle above his window; his fingers gripped it hard.

  “Have you been here since—” I hesitated and glanced sideways at him. “Since the accident?”

  He closed his eyes, his face white. “No.”

  “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

  He nodded, but didn’t open his eyes.

  Carefully, I wound around the curvy road. My brand new, four-wheel drive Toyota 4Runner seemed to have no traction on the slick ice. I’d had really bad luck with cars over the past few years and didn’t want to lose this one, too.

  I slowed again.

  We approached a wooden bridge. As I was about to pull over, I asked Joe to be sure. “Is this it?”

  He seemed to have retreated into another world, and didn’t answer. I turned to look at him for a split second.

  It was one second too long. A herd of deer leapt out of the woods, coming straight for us. I braked and spun the wheel to avoid hitting them.

  Joe braced himself against the dash when a buck collided with our front right fender. The animal scrambled on the ice, then galloped away. Our car spun in circles, as if on a slow-motion lazy Susan. Tree branches, icy blue water, fawn-gray animals, and sky passed before the windshield in a kaleidoscopic frenzy.

  The seatbelt snapped hard against my chest and we plummeted toward the water.

  Impossible. We can’t be reliving Joe’s nightmare.

  In spite of the preposterous scene, the car continued downward, plunging over the embankment and into the lake. We hit the ice hard, cracking through it instantly. The headlights and hood disappeared into three feet of water.

  Airbags exploded in our faces and frigid water circled our ankles. I switched off the ignition and shouted to Joe. “We’ve gotta get out. The water’s coming in.”

  Joe looked out the window, his face a mask of horror.

  I shook his sleeve. “Joe!”

  Silence. Wooden-faced, he didn’t budge.

  I pushed open my door and took stock.

  The rear wheels were caught on a ledge and the driver’s side narrowly missed colliding with a post. Had we actually made it onto the bridge, we might have flipped over and gone through the guardrail just like Joe’s car had done years ago.

  The SUV’s nose was fully submerged now. If we climbed over the back seats and out the rear door, we might make it back to the road without getting soaked.

  Before I could stop him, Joe opened his door and jumped into the water.

  “Jeanne!” he cried. “Hold on!”

  I scrambled over the console and onto his seat. He had leapt into dark water that swirled in an icy porridge around his legs. Large chunks of ice circled his waist. His eyes were fixated on something beneath the ice. Did he imagine her body there, trapped beneath the cold crust?

  I reached for his jacket, grabbed a sleeve, and pulled him toward me. His eyes stayed focused on a spot under the ice.

  “Joe, Jeanne’s not out there. You’ll freeze to death. Come on, man.”

  He wouldn’t budge.

  I finally followed his gaze and let go of his sleeve.

  A woman’s body lay trapped beneath the ice. Her black hair writhed like seaweed in the water below. Because the car had freed her, she now bobbed face up into the opening the car had made. Her features were intact, presumably preserved by the cold. An expression of horror locked her frozen tissues. Her eyes, opened wide, stared at the sky. A stiff hand floated into the open water, beckoning to us.

  “Jeanne!” Joe screamed. This time he moved into action. He grabbed the hand and pulled. The entire body popped from beneath the ice and floated beside him.

  “Jeanne, I’m sorry,” he sobbed. The woman’s body bumped against him. Joe’s bouquet of flowers, starting to ice up, floated beside her.

  I broke out of my trance and reached for him again. “Joe, it’s not Jeanne. Come on. We have to get out of here.”

  He continued to hold her arm, resisting my efforts. Two cars stopped on the bridge. One driver was on his cell phone, already calling in the accident.

  The second slipped down the embankment and yelled to us. “You guys okay?” The kid looked a little older than Shelby.

  I waved to him through chattering teeth. “We’re coming up.”

  I hauled Joe away from the body; but he continued to struggle against me, still calling his deceased wife’s name.

  The boy jumped in and helped me lead Joe to shore. More cars had stopped now, and someone threw a blanket over Joe’s shoulders. The boy—wise beyond his years—gently urged Joe into the back seat of his Honda. It was warm inside, and I gratefully slid in beside him, shivering.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” the boy said. He nodded toward the water.

  I pulled myself together. “Um. She wasn’t in the car with us. We found her under the ice when we slid off the road.”

  The boy turned green and looked back toward the pond. “Whoa. You mean you found her body when you crashed through the ice?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. She was trapped under there. God knows how long.” I shivered again.

  The boy shrugged out of his coat and handed it to me. I accepted it gratefully and put it around my shoulders.

  “Thanks, son.”

  He turned the heat onto high. “Sorry, that’s all I’ve got. But the ambulance should be here soon.”

  At that moment, my opinion of today’s youth skyrocketed. This was one good kid.

  The wail of a siren splintered through the frosty air. I closed my eyes for a moment, lamenting the loss of yet another vehicle. My favorite old Volvo was totaled in a snowstorm after the brakes were sabotaged. My SUV burned in a forest fire last August. And now... I sighed, realizing there were more important issues at hand.

  I leaned my head back against the seat.

  Joe mumbled repeatedly. “Jeanne. Jeanne. We’ve got to help Jeanne.”

  Chapter 11

  “No.” Joe struggled with the EMT who tried to guide him into the ambulance. For the third time, he refused to climb inside. “I’m not going, damn it.”

  “But, sir.”

  “Listen,” Joe said, regaining control of his emotions. “I’m a cop. I know what I’m doing. I was only in the water a minute. I’m not even cold anymore.” He pulled out his soggy ID and flipped it open.

  The attendant had been patient, but now raised an eyebrow and looked at me for verification.

  I wasn’t much help. The hospital was my least favorite place to spend a Sunday and it was clear that Joe had no intention of going. In spite of being soaked and having had the breath knocked out of us, we’d be okay without an army of doctors and nurses poking and prodding us.

  “He’s right,” I said. “Joe’s partner is on the way up, anyway. He’ll be here any second to take us home.”

  Red lights flashed as a patrol car pulled up alongside the ambulance. Joe pulled himself together long enough to convince the sheriff to dismiss the ambulance and call the coroner. By the time he’d rejoined me, Adam Knapp rolled up in his patrol car.

  “You guys okay?” he asked. Concern flooded his eyes. He glanced down at our drenched clothes. “You’re soaked.”

  It was twenty degrees out, and in that cold wind I felt my pant legs begin to stiffen.

  “We’re fine.” Joe nodded curtly and slid into the back seat of Adam’s cruiser. “Just get us home.”

  I jumped into the front, glad to be in the warmth again.

  Adam actually saluted and started up the car. “Yes, sir.” He drove skillfully out of the park and headed south toward East Goodland.

  Joe was silent, staring out the window, his face a
granite mask.

  Adam cranked up the heater and we conversed in low voices in the front seat.

  “Any idea how long the body was out there?” he asked.

  I gave him a warning look and shook my head imperceptibly to steer the conversation away from the body. Adam got the hint immediately and risked a quick glance back at his partner. “Joe? You doin’ okay back there?”

  Joe grunted and didn’t move. His leaden eyes were fixed on the passing scenery.

  Adam turned his eyes back to the road.

  We arrived at Joe’s trailer, and Adam’s cruiser skidded up the driveway, following in the tracks of my defunct SUV. The sun finally broke through the clouds, casting a bright reflection on the new snowfall from the night before.

  Adam and I followed Joe inside, although he hadn’t asked.

  “Why don’t you jump into a hot shower?” Adam suggested.

  Joe nodded, and headed for the bathroom without saying a word.

  Although we realized our friend would probably bristle at our good intentions, we wanted to help. Adam rummaged around in the bedroom and found some clean clothes for Joe to wear.

  My own clothes had dried to a gummy dampness, and I was no longer cold. Just hungry. I decided to find some food for the three of us.

  Opening Joe’s refrigerator, I found two six-packs of Pepsi, a slimy packet of bologna, and some condiments. The pizza in the box on the bottom shelf looked dangerously blue-green around the edges. The freezer held a loaf of bread, some hamburger, and a pack of chicken.

  “My God,” I moaned. “How can anyone live like this?”

  Adam peered over my shoulder. “This is pretty normal for Joe. He eats all his meals out. Except when he eats at your house, of course.”

  One thing I could count on was the appearance of my two cop pals when invited for Sunday dinner. I rummaged around the cabinets and found a can of tuna. I mixed up a tuna salad and spread it on toasted bread.

  “You’re lucky he has mayonnaise,” Adam chuckled.

  I smiled and set three plates on the table. “For sure. And it wasn’t past the expiration date, either.”

  Adam cracked open a new jar of Gherkin pickles and found a bag of chips on the counter.

  “Pepsi or Pepsi?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Um. I think I’ll have Pepsi.”

  We sat and ate. And the shower kept running.

  Adam leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What’s wrong with him? He’s been so odd lately.”

  I took a sip of the soda and shook my head. “It seems he’s having flashbacks, or something like that. About Jeanne. Today’s discovery made him worse.” I set the can on the table and sighed. “Damn. I feel so responsible. The whole stupid idea was mine. I thought maybe he could find some closure, some peace. And then, out of the blue, the deer showed up and we were in the water. It was absolutely bizarre.”

  I looked into Adam’s earnest eyes, continuing on my rant. “And then, right there in the water, the body of a woman stared up at us from under the ice. It was like some TV movie. Completely insane. Totally improbable. You know?”

  He’d laid down his sandwich to listen. Now he reached over to touch my arm. “Gus. You couldn’t have known that would happen.”

  “Yeah, but it was all my idea. I turned the wheel too hard for the conditions. And then, when that woman’s body popped out of the ice—” I shivered, remembering the disturbing image. “It shocked the hell out of me.”

  Adam put a hand on my arm. “It’s a horrible coincidence. Best you can do is to try not to think about it.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes and finished our sandwiches. The water from the shower still ran.

  “He’s still in there.” I pushed back from the table. “I’d better see what’s going on.”

  Adam rose and started to clear the table. “Let me know if you need me.”

  Worried now, I hurried toward Joe’s bedroom.

  Chapter 12

  I walked toward the bathroom door. “Joe? You okay?”

  No answer.

  The room was a mess, but this could have been Joe’s normal state. I’d never had reason to go into his bedroom before. Sheets and blankets were wrinkled and bunched up on the floor near the bed. A few takeout containers sat on the nightstand. Six empty Pepsi cans stood aligned like soldiers in formation on the bureau.

  A large photo of Jeanne was propped on the nightstand. A framed, handwritten parchment with The Twelve Steps to recovery hung over Joe’s dresser. Adam had laid out grey sweat pants and a sweatshirt on Joe’s pillow.

  Water still ran in the adjoining bathroom and steam billowed from the doorway.

  I tried again. “Joe?”

  The sound of muffled moans came from behind the door. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he shouted, slamming the door in my face.

  I stood awkwardly in front of the door, not sure if I should wait or knock again.

  I waited.

  Five minutes later, he turned off the shower and came into the bedroom wearing a large, striped towel. He pulled open his bureau drawer, grabbed some underclothes, and finally faced me.

  “You guys don’t have to babysit me. I’m fine.”

  I stared at him uncertainly.

  He sputtered a frustrated sigh. “Gus. You need to get home. Camille will be worried.”

  Was he okay? Could he be? After falling apart so badly up at the pond? He almost sounded like my old friend, but I wasn’t sure.

  Reluctantly, I gave in. “Okay. If you’re sure.” I took a few steps toward the living room and turned back to him. “But I’m still worried about you.”

  He sat down heavily on a chair and wiped the moisture from his face. His hairy back and arms still glistened wet from the shower. “I’m telling you, Gus, I’ll be fine.” Raising his troubled eyes to mine, he made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go on.”

  I hesitated. “I made a tuna sandwich for you. It’s on the table.”

  He snorted. “For crying out loud. You don’t need to take care of me, too, Gus. You’ve got your hands full at home.”

  “I know, I know. Okay, I’m leaving. But I’m calling you tonight. We need to talk.”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “You’re so damned stubborn.”

  “Maybe I am.” I shook a finger at him. “Tonight. Around seven.” I backed out of the room.

  Adam had put the dishes away, wiped down the counters, and arranged the chairs neatly around the table. “Is he gonna be okay?” Worry swam in his eyes.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Joe shuffled into the room in his sweat pants and sweatshirt. He waved us toward the door. “Go on. Get out of here. Take this man home, Adam.”

  Adam dropped me at home and then returned to the station for his evening shift.

  I found Shelby alone at the kitchen table, writing with a purple pen on stationary we’d given her for Christmas.

  “Hi, Kiddo.”

  She didn’t look up. I dropped my wet coat in the laundry room and then leaned over her shoulder to peek at her letter.

  “Dad! This is private.”

  She slid one hand over the letter and frowned at me. Her eyes filled with indignation. “Dad!”

  “Who are you writing to?”

  “Nobody,” she said. She slid over to the other side of the table to get away from me. “Geez. I can’t talk on the phone, I can’t text or message my friends, I can’t watch TV, or listen to music, and now you want to know what’s in my private letters?”

  I held both hands in the air to stop her tirade. “Sorry. You’re right.”

  She huffed and continued to write, arm curled protectively around the paper.

  “Where is everybody?”

  She didn’t look up. “Mom’s playing in the snow with Johnny. He was really disappointed when you didn’t come home in time.” She shot me a disapproving look. “The babies are sleeping. Freddie’s resting, too. Siegfried’s better. He’s back in the carriage house with Sheba.”

>   When I didn’t respond, she finally looked up at me. “What happened to you?” She stared at my clothes and her surly expression vanished. “You’re all wet.”

  “We hit a deer up at Mendon Ponds Park. The 4Runner went right into the water.”

  She quickly folded up her letter and stuffed it into the stationary box. “Dad!” she accused. “Why didn’t you call us?”

  I fished my cell out of a damp pants pocket and held it up. “It’s ruined.”

  “Oh.” She came to my side and took my arm. “Are you okay? Where’s Joe? Do you need a doctor?” The words flowed out of her in one connected rush. She lifted her cinnamon brown eyes to mine.

  Flabbergasted, I saw open concern flooding her face. And smiled.

  My sweet daughter had returned.

  “I’m fine, actually, honey. The airbags did their thing. Joe and I got wet, but that’s about it. He’s home. I’m going to shower and change. I’ll be down later to start supper.”

  She stood a little straighter. “I could do it. I could defrost some chili.”

  I turned to look at my teenaged angel and grinned. “Yeah?”

  She flushed and shuffled her feet. “Well, I know how to do some things.”

  “Indeed. I have no doubt, Shelby. Matter of fact, that would be fantastic. I’d really appreciate it.” Today, the idea of not having to cook was very appealing.

  I half-expected her to ask for clemency again, but she didn’t. She skipped over to the freezer and pulled out two containers of frozen chili. Of all the soups or stews I made, chili was her favorite and I usually froze extra for her late night hunger attacks. She loved to melt cheese in it and scoop it onto taco chips.

  “Take your time. Why don’t you call AT&T after you take a hot bath? Get a new phone sent overnight. You can’t be without one these days. And we can heat up your bowl whenever you’re hungry and bring it up to you. In bed, if you want?”

  I smiled at her in amazement, watching her pop the containers into the microwave. “Thanks, Kiddo. I’ll call, but I'm afraid it’s gonna cost me. Last time I went into the pool with the phone I had to pay over two hundred dollars for a replacement.”

  She flipped one braid over her shoulder and shot me a quick smile. “Okay, suit yourself. Let me know when you’re hungry.”