Deep Freeze (23 page)

“Allie?” Jenna said.

“What?” Her daughter looked up from her masterpiece of food art.

“Did Dad call?”

“Tonight? No.”

“Another night?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I guess I forgot.”

“When was it?”

A lift of a small shoulder. “I don’t know…yesterday, I think. Maybe the other day.”

“Did he want to talk to me?”

Allie bit her lip and winced. “Yeah.”

So Robert wasn’t the flake she’d thought. She felt slightly better about her ex. “You need to tell me about all calls you take for me, okay? Or write them down.”

“Okay,” Allie mumbled.

“But another call came through tonight. Who was it?”

“Some guy.”

The hairs on the back of Jenna’s neck raised. “What guy?”

“I don’t know. He said he’d call back.”

“Did he say what he wanted?” Jenna asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

“No. Just wanted to talk to you and asked where you were and I said I didn’t know.”

Full-blown panic erupted. “Wait a minute, you gave a stranger information that you were here alone?”

“Uh-uh.” Allie shook her head. “I wasn’t alone. Hans and Ellie and Cassie were here, too. So when he asked if I was here by myself I told him ‘no.’” She stuck out her chin, but her lower lip wobbled a bit. “I’m not an idiot, Mom.”

“Of course not.”

Cassie snorted. “Don’t ever give out
any
information. Didn’t you learn that before when that Paladin creep in L.A. was stalking Mom?”

“This was different!” Allie insisted, but Jenna was suddenly worried sick. The note. The feeling someone was following her…watching her. The missing things at the theater.

“Why weren’t the gates closed?” she asked, trying to keep her cool.

“The electronic mechanism messed up again. Hans tried to fix it,” Cassie said, tossing her magazine aside and looking up at Jenna as if she’d finally sensed the undercurrent of worry in Jenna’s tone. “What is it, Mom?”

“I think we should try to be a little more secure.”

Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “This is so I can’t sneak out, isn’t it?” she charged.

“Hey, Cass! It’s
never
okay for you to sneak out. We don’t have to discuss it again. But remember, I got a weird fan letter the other day.”

“Just how weird was it?” Cassie demanded.

“Weird enough.”

Allie was suddenly disinterested in the pizza, her little-girl’s fear antennae activated. “The guy that wrote it, you think he was the one who called here?” she asked, furrows etching her brow. She bit her lip anxiously.

“I don’t know,” Jenna admitted, as she walked through the house and locked every door and window. “I just don’t know.”

Allie puppy-dogged her. “Are we safe here?”

“Of course,” Jenna said, but in her heart, she didn’t believe it. Not for a second.

“Do I have to?” Cassie complained as Jenna handed her the phone. The last thing she wanted to do was have it out with her father.

“Absolutely!”

Cassie wanted to squirm out of it, but she dialed her dad’s phone and walked into the den, turning her back on her mother as Robert answered gruffly. She bolstered herself. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Cass.”

His voice had a hint of emotion in it and Cassie suddenly missed him terribly. She knew he’d been a jerk of a husband, and sometimes a crummy dad, but he was all she had.

“What’s going on?”

Her throat thickened. God, she didn’t want to disappoint him. Sighing and wiping back tears, she said, “I guess I screwed up.” And then she told him the story. All of it…well, she kept out the fact that they’d been smoking weed and making out…no reason to send him into orbit…but she told him the rest, including the part about sneaking out with Josh, visiting the crime scene, and being hauled home by the sheriff.

All the time he didn’t say a word.

“That’s it?” he asked when she was finished.

“Yeah.”

“Learn anything?”

“Not to get caught?” she tried to joke, though tears ran down her cheeks.

“Well, I think you know better. Try to give your mom a break, would you?”

“Yeah.” She sniffed loudly. “Do you…do you think I could come home?”

A pause.

Cassie’s heart crumbled.

“For Christmas?”

“I meant for—”

“I’d love it!” he cut in before she could admit that she wanted to move back to L.A. for good. “The deal is, we’re planning to go to Tammy’s folks’ vacation house for a few days. They’ve got a place in Tahoe, and I haven’t been skiing for years.”
Not since the accident during the filming of
White Out, she thought. “But I could check, see if there’s room…” He let his voice fade away and Cassie swallowed back more tears. He was trying to nicely get out of having her come. He didn’t say it, but having his daughter visit was inconvenient.

“Mom wants me and Allie here anyway—it probably wouldn’t work.”

“Maybe spring break…oh, hell, that won’t work. I’ve got a new project and we’ll start filming in March. Maybe I could find a couple of days to visit you. We’re shooting in Vancouver, B.C. Or you girls could fly up!” He said it with such enthusiasm. As if he meant it. He probably did. Right now. “I’ll work it out with your mom. Promise. So…you don’t give her any more trouble.”

“Sure,” she said, and managed not to sniff, not to let him know how much she hurt.

“So, is everything okay?”

Okay? Was he crazy?
“Yeah,” she lied. But it wasn’t okay. It never would be.

“That’s my girl. Should I talk to your mom?”

“Nah.” She shook her head as if he could see through the phone lines.

“Okay. I’ll call soon. Love you…Oh, is Allie up? I should say something to her.”

That burned Cassie. Of course he should! “I’ll get her.” She walked into the kitchen and mumbled, “Dad wants to talk to you,” as she handed Allie the receiver; then, before anyone said another word, before she broke down completely, she flew up the stairs to her room and threw herself onto the bed. She wouldn’t cry.
Wouldn’t
. Not when her mother or sister could hear. Still the tears kept flowing, hot and wet, from her eyes.

She hurried into her bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the radio as loud as it would blare. She ran the shower and faucet, then held a wet towel over her face and let out little, tiny sobs, just enough to release some of the anguish, but not enough that anyone could hear her pain.

“Bastard,” she whispered as she thought of her father. The trouble was, she loved him. Somehow, she’d have to find a way to stop that ridiculous emotion. He didn’t care about her, not really. Hadn’t even fought for custody during the divorce. What a wuss! Sniffing, she dabbed at her eyes. Robert Kramer wasn’t worth all this torture.

What about Josh?

Good question. And a tough one.

If you still lived in L.A., would you even look twice at a boy like Josh Sykes? Or would you consider him someone to avoid, a person swimming in the shallow end of the gene pool?

“Oh God, I don’t know.”

Sure you do. Think about Mike Cavaletti and Noel Fedderson and Brent Elders…

The boys she’d secretly thought were cool in Southern California. Tanned, smart, privileged, going places…

“Snobs,” she said under her breath.

Like you. Deep down, aren’t you one of them? How would you like your friends in L.A. to see you with Josh, up in the snow at a crime scene…thrown in the back of a sheriff’s car and dragged back to face your mother like a criminal
…

“Crap, crap, crap!” she said, suddenly angry with her situation, her family, and the whole damned world. Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower and let the hot spray tumble over her face and down her body. She was tired of her mother telling her what to do, her sister being such a dork, her father avoiding them altogether, and Josh pressuring her into doing things she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“So do something about it,” she growled. What was that corny expression—
Today is the first day of the rest of your life
—or something like that? Close enough. Tonight, she planned to adopt it. It was time she took care of herself. The hell with everyone else. Because when it came right down to it, no one knew her, understood her, or really cared. Even Josh.
Especially Josh!

From now on, it was time to look after
Numero Uno
.

Carefully he trained his binoculars on the compound. From his blind hidden high in the ice-encrusted branches, he focused. The gates were closed, the lights of the house blazing. Jenna and her children had been huddled in the kitchen area. She was worried. She’d stolen glances outside, snapping the shutters closed and cutting off his view.

Don’t,
he thought, but could do nothing from here.

Open them,
he silently commanded, moving his gaze frantically from room to darkened room, but she didn’t pass by a clear window, wasn’t visible to him.

Anger surged through his blood.

Don’t close me out. Please…

His mind wound backward, tripping over memories of cold winters and slammed doors. Even after “the incident,” as it was later called, the doors had been locked to him.

“Mama, no!” he said out loud, startling himself.

He was shivering, remembering the slow, ugly sound of ice cracking. He and Nina had been walking across the frozen lake that shimmered silver in the moonlight, oblivious to anything but each other as a canopy of stars winked high in the heavens. He felt the warmth of her bare hand through his glove, noticed the flounce of her nightgown as it floated around her small, white ankles. Her black hair was mussed and tangled and her eyes promised delights he could only imagine. They’d kissed. A lot. He glimpsed her breast through the placket of her nightgown, small…round…with a beguiling, dark tip that was hard with the cold.

“Come with me,” he’d said earlier, after tapping on her bedroom window. She’d opened the latch quickly and slipped through the window, leaving her baby sister snoring softly in the top bunk. Silently hushing him, she’d placed a finger to his lips, and he’d grinned, waited for her to pull on her fur-lined slippers, then took hold of her hand and led her swiftly into the woods.

Together they’d run through the snow…free from the fierce glares, angry words, and bone-crushing hands that slapped fast and quick, without provocation.

The night air was fresh and cold, unmarred by the smells of stale breath, cigarette smoke, and not-quite-empty whiskey bottles. Stars and moonlight were their guides.

They were free.

If only until dawn.

He didn’t care how little time they had, as long as they were together. Young. Strong. “Come on, Nina,” he urged, tugging on her arm. They ran to the lake and she laughed. It was the purest sound he’d ever heard, tinkling through the midnight forest as they reached the shore and stepped onto the steady ice. She nearly slipped right then and he caught her, tangled with her, felt his heart beat a primal tattoo that was as exhilarating as it was frightening.

Aside from the soft hush of a breeze, the night was silent, a few lights shining from cabins tucked into the woods, docks jutting out into the ice, a forgotten canoe now frozen solid at the nearest pier. He touched her hair, stared into the wonder of her face.

Tossing her head back, she teased, “Bet you can’t catch me.”

He gave her a squeeze. “I’ve already got you.”

“Not for long.” As slippery as an eel, she wiggled away from him and began running, feet slipping wildly, black hair caught in the wind.

“Wait!” he cried, but she ignored him and he had to give chase, farther and farther from the snow-drifted banks, across the frozen water. He knew it could be dangerous. How often had his mother warned him to avoid the lake as she’d closed the door? But tonight the lake was magic. Black magic.

Of course, he caught her and she, laughing, chilled to the bone, twirled in his arms. His heart was pounding frantically, his breath cold and shallow as he held her close and stared down into eyes that mirrored the night. “Kiss me,” she ordered, her hands in his hair, pulling his head down insistently. Cold lips touched his and his blood stirred. Her tongue pushed against his teeth, slipping between them, touching his.

He groaned. Lost. His hands bunched up her nightgown, the hardness between his legs sudden and demanding.

At first he thought the unfamiliar sound was the rush of blood in his veins, the thunder of his heartbeat, but he was wrong. His muscles tightened instinctively as he listened and heard an eerie groan. An ominous, near-silent creak that slithered a warning through his brain.

He lifted his head. The shore was five hundred feet away. How had they gotten so far from land? “Don’t move,” he whispered, shivering. Maybe it would go away.

But he knew better.

Another deep groan that echoed through the valley as well as the chambers of his heart. The hairs on the back of his arms lifted.

“Oh, God.”

“What?”

They were too far from shore. Too far. “Come on!” he ordered as another splintering sound reverberated through his brain. He felt it then, the subtle shift beneath his boots. He grabbed her hand. “Run!” he’d cried over the louder, sharper crack, the sound of a fissure etching frantically through the ice.

“Why? Oh, God!”

“Run!”

“I can’t!” Her feet, in slippers, found no purchase on the glazed surface and she slid wildly. He grabbed her wrist and ran, dragging her toward the shore. She was a dead weight, pulling against him, but he didn’t care. Faster and faster he ran, his own feet sliding wildly. He aimed for his house, where, through the leafless trees he saw patches of warm light in the windows, smelled the scent of burning wood drifting from the chimney, heard the soft sound of tinkling laughter and music, noticed the unfamiliar car parked in the snowy drive.

Nina was crying now, her fear manifesting in tears. “Come on,” he urged, yanking hard on her wrist, forcing her forward; then he turned toward the house. “Ma!” he yelled so loudly his voice seemed to reverberate over the ice. “Ma! Help!”

The earth shifted beneath him.

Nina’s hand slipped from his gloved fingers.

He spun as she screamed, a terrified shriek that sliced through the night.

Craaaack!

The ice beneath them split.

His legs slid from beneath him and he saw the crack, a great, yawning crevice that moved and slivered as if it were alive.

No!

The cleft aimed right for Nina.

She gasped. Tried to get her feet under her and run.

“Hurry, Nina!” He scrambled toward her. The crack widened into a gaping crevice and Nina—beautiful, trusting Nina—screamed horribly as she fell through the ice in a sickening, heart-stopping splash.

“No! Oh, God, no!” He threw himself to the spot from which she’d vanished, searching the murky, frigid depths, hearing ice crack and split all around him, but she submerged quickly, disappearing into the black depths.

He didn’t think. Jumped into the dark, gaping hole. Frigid water engulfed him, strangling him, dragging him down with cold, cruel fingers. He thrashed beneath the surface, searching the murky waters of the lake.
Please, oh, God, please
…His lungs burned from lack of oxygen. His eyes saw nothing and he was shaking from the inside out.

Where are you? Nina…WHERE?

Swimming in wild circles, feeling as if he was going to explode, hoping for a glimpse of her, of the nightgown, of
anything,
he searched. Frantic. Knowing he might die.

Bubbles of air came out of his nose. He let in a little breath. Frigid water rushed into his nose and throat. Desperately he kicked upward, propelling himself to the break in the ice. He gasped as his head broke free. Coughing. Sputtering. Spitting water. “Nina!” he cried wildly, his voice a croak in the cold darkness. “Nina!”

Nothing.

No sound of her sweet voice.

His gaze scraped the surface of the lake, but he saw no sign of life. Oh, God, she was still down there. Freezing. Drowning.
Dying
.

He dived downward again, deep into the inky depths.
Nina, where the hell are you? Oh, baby. Come on, come on!
The seconds ticked by and he saw nothing through the murky water. What were the chances that she would survive? How long could someone stay under water, under
near-freezing
water? Were there air pockets locked near the surface? Could she even now be pressing her sweet lips upward to the ice, hoping to find a small pocket of air trapped beneath the surface? His mind was spinning crazily, a kaleidoscope of sharp images of Nina cutting through his brain as he swam in a panic, his lungs once again on fire.