Читать книгу On Thin Ice - Linda Hall - Страница 10

Megan could tell he was watching her, studying her as they sat across from each other at the Schooner Café. He ordered coffees for the two of them, even though she didn’t particularly want coffee. He hadn’t asked her. He’d gone ahead and ordered. Their waitress was a pretty, dark-haired, tall young woman whom Alec seemed to know.

“My mother’s just at the bank for a minute,” the girl said in answer to Alec’s question. She poured coffee into two white mugs and set them down on the table between them. “Would you like something to eat? Would you like menus?”

Megan shook her head and encircled the cup of coffee with her hands. It warmed them.

Alec added, “No. We just need to see your mother.”

“She should be back in a minute. You want me to call her on my cell phone?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Alec said.

Megan looked down into her coffee, stared into the swirling brown liquid.

She couldn’t meet Alec’s eyes. She was afraid of what he might ultimately ask.

She had left because of their baby. Her pregnancy was beginning to show and she vowed then that no one would ever know she was carrying Alec’s baby. She was young, unmarried and ashamed. When he left her, when he didn’t believe her, she meant to take their baby away from him forever.

She pretended to study the saltshaker. Alec took out a small notebook and began writing something down in it. For a long time they sat there thinking their own thoughts and not talking.

A few moments later the door opened and in breezed the blonde woman who had given the envelope to her this morning. She came over to their table and shrugged out of her bulky pink faux fur coat.

“Selena said you wanted to see me, Alec? Oh, hello,” she said to Megan.

“We meet again,” Megan said quietly.

“Yes. It’s nice to see you.” To Alec she said, “Selena said this was important.” There was concern in Marlene’s blue eye-shadowed eyes.

“It’s about this envelope.” He showed her. “Do you know who gave this to you?”

Marlene shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen the man before in my life. He came in here and said that when Meg Brooks showed up to please give her this. Then he handed the envelope to me. I said, ‘I have no idea who Meg Brooks is.’ And he said that in a few days a woman would be coming in here, a stranger, and I was to ask her name and give her this letter.” She looked at Megan. “I figured it was something you were expecting.”

Megan was about to say something, and Alec said, “What did he look like?”

Marlene sighed, her eyebrows furrowing. “Well, let me think. I would say he was about your height, Alec. Give or take. Medium build. Really dark hair. I remember that. Black and thick.”

“Beard? Clean shaven?”

“I don’t remember a beard. So, probably clean shaven. I like a beard on a man. I would have remembered a beard.”

“Dark complexion?”

“I really don’t remember. Not black. But not swarthy.”

“Didn’t you think the whole thing was kind of odd?”

“I thought it was odd to begin with, but after a while I really didn’t give it much thought. I figured Meg Brooks must be a relative or something.” Marlene crossed her arms over her sizable bosom and nodded. “Is this important?”

“It might be. Did he say where he was staying in town?”

“I got the impression that he wasn’t staying anywhere in town, that he was just passing through.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“I don’t know. Just the way he seemed, all in a hurry or something. And he seemed nice enough, so I took the envelope and said, ‘I can’t promise anything, but sure.’ Then this morning Meg Brooks in the flesh shows up.” She looked down at Megan.

“Did this black-haired man tell you what Meg Brooks was supposed to look like?”

Marlene shook her head. “That’s the strange part. When I asked him this, he just shook his head and said that I would know her when I saw her and how many people come into Whisper Lake Crossing in the middle of winter anyway.”

“That’s what he said?”

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Alec asked.

“Call you about what?”

“And you didn’t think this whole thing was strange?”

“I thought it was plenty strange, but a lot of plenty strange things happen around here and I don’t go to the sheriff’s office with every little strange thing, Alec. This just seemed an innocent thing. Someone dropping off a letter for someone who would be coming by later.”

“When did this happen?”

“Let me think.” She put her hand to her forehead. “The day before last. Yes. That’s what it was. In the morning.”

Alec scribbled something in his book. He looked up. “Marlene, if that guy comes back, please contact me immediately.”

“Okay.” Marlene saluted him. If the situation hadn’t been so grave, Megan would have laughed out loud.

Later at the sheriff’s office, Megan was formally introduced to his office assistant, Denise, who was the woman Megan had spoken to earlier. She was a middle-aged, comfortable-looking woman.

“Stu got your call, Alec. What’s going on?” Denise asked.

“Some maniac was out there on the lake shooting.”

Denise looked from one to the other. Without explaining who Megan was, Alec ushered her past two yellow chairs in the waiting room and into his office.

Denise called after him. “Your mail’s on your desk, Alec.”

“Thanks,” he said as he closed the door behind them.

His was a modest square office, very efficient, very plain. It had one desk and two chairs. There were few touches of home. No family photos that she could see. On the wall was a picture of a sailboat. He pushed the small stack of mail aside and offered Megan a chair.

At the bottom of his stack of mail there was a shoe box, which was wrapped in brown paper. Something about it seemed to pique his interest. He pulled it out from the stack and looked at it. It seemed to be secured all around with thick layers of packing tape.

He turned it over, examined it, dropped it on the desk, and for the second time that day he lunged for Megan and said, “Out! Now!”

He opened his door, ushered her through it quickly, calling to Denise as he did so.

“Anyone else in the building?”

“Alec, what’s up?”

“We have to get everyone out now. I think somebody just sent us a bomb!”

Ten minutes later, Megan found herself two blocks from the sheriff’s office, sitting on a damask-covered, spindly chair in Denise’s kitchen, surrounded by bobbleheads and dolls.

“Here,” Denise said. “Let me move these dolls at least. I collect them, make and sew clothes for them. I’m getting ready for a show. But they get a bit overwhelming at times.”

Megan barely heard. She had no choice but to sit here and drink Denise’s burnt instant coffee and think about the fact that somebody wanted her dead.

When Alec finally arrived, his expression was grim. Both women looked at him expectantly.

“It wasn’t a bomb,” he said.

“Well, thank the good Lord for that!” Denise placed a hand on her chest.

“Yes. We can be thankful for that,” he said.

“What was it, then?” Megan asked.

Instead of answering, he said, “Denise, may I speak with Megan alone? Can we use your parlor?”

“Certainly, Alec. Would you like coffee? We were just enjoying a cup.”

“Thanks Denise. That would be great.”

Sill unsmiling, Alec led Megan into a small, windowed room which, like the kitchen, was entirely populated with dolls. A bald-headed doll sneered and bobbed toward her as they entered.

Alec plucked two cloth dolls with pinched faces from a chair and sat down. She sat in the chair opposite him. She turned the grinning bobblehead away. Something about it made her uncomfortable. As she did this, Alec piped up, “I see you’ve met Denise’s dolls.”

“There are sure a lot of them.”

They both smiled a bit. Obviously, Alec had said this to lighten the mood. It didn’t last long.

“If it wasn’t a bomb, then what was it?” Megan asked.

From inside his jacket he took out a clear plastic bag and laid it on the coffee table next to a china doll with pink round circles for cheeks. It was the wedding invitation. She picked up the plastic bag, turned it over and read again. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY NUMBER TWENTY. Why was he showing her the card she had received at the café? She already knew this card all too well.

“This card was in the box that came to me.”

“Two cards?” she asked.

“Yes, two cards. The writing on the back of both of them appears to have been photocopied. They’re identical. We’re sending them both to the forensics lab.”

“And you think there’s a connection between these cards and the person who was shooting at us on the lake, plus the deaths of Sophia and Jennifer?”

He nodded. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

She shuddered and pulled her sweater tightly around her.

Alec took a notebook and pen out of his breast pocket and began to write. He was quiet for a few minutes. The only sound was the rhythmic clanging of a clock on the mantel. Megan’s mouth felt dry.

He looked at her for a few more moments and then asked, “Where is it that you live now?”

“Baltimore.”

“What do you do there?”

“I’m a Web designer.” He wrote the answers carefully in his coil-bound notebook. She knew his handwriting; his tall, compact letters. She had received love letters in that careful script. She had gotten rid of all of them. Back when she had burned her wedding dress and ribbons and decorations and candles, those love letters were in the same pile.

“Do you work for a company?”

“Alec, are you questioning me? Interrogating me?”

A look of surprise crossed his face. “Yes, Megan. I want to get to the bottom of this.” He smiled at her.

This bothered her and she didn’t know why. She looked away and felt slightly insulted. She was not some suspect. She was personally involved in the case. She found herself retreating from his gentle smile.

He was a cop, trained to get information and confessions from suspects by any means possible. If that meant cops had to pretend to have feelings they didn’t possess, they would. And for the briefest of moments she’d actually thought he was showing her kindness. She needed to be on her guard.

“I’m not at fault,” she said, sitting stiffly in her chair. “Something is happening to me and I’m not the cause of it.”

His voice was soft. “I never said you were. I’m just trying to get a handle on things. This is the only way I know how to work, by asking questions.” He put his pen down. “I’m sure you’ve thought about this. Do you know of anyone who might want to do this to you? Maybe from your work?”

“I have dozens of clients, most of whom I’ve never even met.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“That’s the way I work, Alec. I am alone.”

“I can’t imagine you working in a job that doesn’t include people….”

“I told you. I’ve changed. I could ask you the same question. Is there anyone you know who would want to do this to us? Besides, why would one of my clients target you? I’ve never told anyone about you. No one knows my history.”

He took a breath and looked down at his notebook. If her words stung, that’s what she wanted.

She sighed. This was getting them nowhere. “In answer to your question.” She paused. “After the trial I went to Baltimore to live with my godmother, a close friend and college roommate of my mother’s. Her name is Eunice Schneider. She came into my life after my grandmother died. She offered a place for me to stay in Baltimore. I went. I had no place else to go. She was good to me. I went to school there, took a graphic design course. For the past ten years I’ve been designing Web sites. I do okay for myself. I lead a quiet life.”

He said, “So, we’re looking at someone from before…”

“From before what?” she asked.

“From before our lives now. It may be painful, but I think we’re going to have to go back to the early days, when we were…together. Whoever is doing this is obviously from…then.”

She could tell it was hard for him to say the words, but she too realized it had to be someone from those days. Isn’t that why she had come here? After she had gone over and over Sophia’s and Jennifer’s deaths in her mind, had spent many sleepless nights in Baltimore wondering if she might be the next target, she had decided to come and talk to Alec.

“Someone from before,” she said. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“We begin at the beginning.”

“Right.”

He was looking at her, his expression so tender, so questioning. She knew. She knew that he wanted to ask about their child.

And she wasn’t ready to tell him about that. Not yet.