Glare Ice (11 page)

C
LAIRE
called the hospital from her house before she left for work. Late the night before she had gotten the news that Stephanie was still unconscious, but stable. The doctor who came to the phone to talk to her in the morning assured her that Stephanie was doing as well as could be expected, but that they were going to need to do some repair work, probably surgery, on her face.

“What happened to her?” he asked.

Claire thought it was quite clear. “Someone beat her up.”

“With what, I mean? It might help us know the nature of the damage.”

“A champagne bottle wrapped in a paper bag.”

She heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “What a way to say Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Exactly. What might she need surgery on?”

“I’m concerned about her eyes. It’s hard to know how well she’s seeing right now, but it doesn’t look good to me. And her nose needs to be reset. I don’t think she’s breathing very well out of it right now.”

“Is she coherent?”

“Minimally. We’ve got her pretty doped up. She suffered a concussion, but that’s the least of her problems.”

“She’s still in intensive care with restrictions on visitors?”

“Yes, and she’ll continue to be there for at least the rest of the day, and I’m guessing the next day or two. The good news is she has no internal injuries other than the concussion that I can determine. The assault was focused on her head and face.”

“That’s the way the loved ones beat you up. Make you look bad to the rest of the world.”

She had used the phone in her bedroom so Bridget and Meg wouldn’t overhear her talking to the doctor. She didn’t want them to know what had happened. Both of them were still nervous from their own traumas. Bridget had a nasty scar on her arm from a bullet hole; Meg still had bad dreams at night. They didn’t need to be reminded that evil men roamed the world.

When she came downstairs, they were busy making oatmeal. Meg was teaching Bridget. “Keep stirring until you turn the heat down. That way it won’t stick,” Meg told her.

“Where’s the wonder child?” Claire asked.

“She’s fed, she’s dry, she’s yonder sleeping. I think she likes all the noise of people moving around her. Maybe it’s too quiet at my house.” Bridget pointed to the bundle of baby curled up on the couch between two pillows. “She just doesn’t seem to like to go into her bedroom and sleep in her bed. She reminds me of myself—never wanting to miss anything that’s going on.”

Claire walked over and knelt down by the dark-haired infant. She hadn’t had much time for her yesterday. Rachel pursed her lips, then made quiet smacking sounds, but kept sleeping. Claire felt the urge to reach out and touch her soft white cheeks, but resisted. A sleeping baby was just what they all needed right now. Bridget had a little more color in her face than when she showed up yesterday afternoon.

“So you’re sure you don’t mind being here today?”

Bridget looked at her. “Are you kidding? I’ve just had the best sleep since before the baby was born. Meg is teaching me how to cook. My husband is gone for another day. My darling child is sleeping. And the roads still aren’t much good. You better believe I’m happy to stay put.”

“So how did you think it went yesterday with Rich’s mom, the noble Beatrice?” Claire asked.

“I would say you made an impression.” Bridget laughed.

Claire couldn’t argue with that.

Bridget walked into the living room to talk to her, leaving Meg to attend to the oatmeal. “Claire, I wanted to ask you about that woman yesterday. Was her car stuck in her driveway?”

Claire looked up at her sister. “How did you know?”

“I stopped and talked to her just before I got to your house.” “Why?”

“Because I saw her car was stuck.”

“Was anyone there?”

“No. I asked if she needed help, but she said that she had called someone and they would be there shortly.”

Claire left the two of them planning to make chocolate chip cookies in the afternoon. She had a strong desire to stay home and play house with the three favorite women in her life, but then she thought of Stephanie’s face, grabbed her keys, and was out the door before she could think again.
A.M.
When she parked down the road, she saw that the snowplow had already been by. If there had been any remnants of tracks left by the assailant’s car, they were gone now.

She reached into the back of the car and lifted out the box with the bagged champagne bottle in it. Perhaps they could lift prints off the bottle unless he kept his gloves on in the store when he bought it.

Clark Denforth parked right behind her car. She carried the box back to him. “An early Christmas present. Smashed champagne bottle.” She put the box in the back of his car.

“Oh, champagne gives me a headache,” he said, peering into the box to see what it contained.

“Assault weapon. I don’t know what you’re going to find here. We had quite a crew at the scene yesterday.”

“How many?” Clark looked at her.

She counted. “Seven besides the assailant. Seven that I know of. Eight including the victim.” Then she remembered Scott coming after everyone else had left to take photographs. “Oops, I mean nine.”

“Then there is the snow.”

“And the plows, which already wiped out the car tracks.”

“Don’t you just love winter.” He walked up to the car that Claire had locked last night. She didn’t think Stephanie’s mess of possessions were worth much, but it was her job to secure them.

“I think they fought by the car. She was trying to leave, and he decided to clobber her,” Claire told him.

Denforth walked around the car, then leaned under and patted the snow by the driver’s side. “There’s something under here. I can see the darkness through the snow.” Carefully he wiped the snow away and uncovered a scarf, a dark brown scarf.

“A man’s wool scarf,” Claire said. “That’s what it could be. It could belong to the assailant.”

Looking it over carefully, Denforth corrected her, “A man’s cashmere scarf.”

Sven loaded his snowblower into the back of the truck and brought it down to the end of the park. His wife used to tease him that he’d be out blowing the snow off the sidewalk before it had even quit coming down. He did like his machines. Gave him something to do now that he was retired. He couldn’t shovel—too much strain on his heart. But he could run the snowblower and watch it do all the work.

Near the shore the water had frozen into smooth glare ice. He knew this because he had been down checking on the ice every day. He had decided the town skating rink would be his project this year. But now the ice was covered with about a half a foot of snow. It would be a pleasure to clear it off—like watching his wife iron a tablecloth smooth of any wrinkles.

Sven stopped the truck close to the lake, walked around the back, dropped the tailgate, and pulled out his ramp. Then he climbed up into the truck and carefully pushed his snowblower down.

The wind was picking up across the lake. If it started blowing this snow around, he could be at this job all day long.

He could make out the shoveled outlines of the rink from when he had done it before. Pushing the snowblower in front of him, he aimed it at the far western corner. He’d start there and blow all the snow out of the rink. It took some strategy not to make this too much work.

Starting up the machine, he felt tired suddenly. He hadn’t slept at all well last night. The face of that young girl, Stephanie, kept coming to him. She could be such a nice girl when she wanted to be. There was a rough side to her sometimes too—he knew she went drinking at the local bars and hung out with a tougher crowd—but she had always been real nice to him.

He had done a couple of rows when he stopped to take a breather. The sun was just glinting through the skim-milk-colored sky. Getting close to the shortest day of the year. Boy, he’d be glad when they got over that hump. He didn’t mind cold, and he liked the snow, but he hated the darkness. It seemed to make it harder to get up everyday and easier to climb into bed on the early side.

He was getting ready to start the snowblower again when he heard a car coming down into the park. He turned to see, and recognized the car right away—the deputy sheriff’s car.

He walked up the shore to greet her. Maybe she had news on Stephanie. She stopped the car next to his truck and rolled down her window.

“What do you know, Mrs. Watkins?”

“Sven, you’ve picked a cold one.”

“I didn’t pick it. You can’t let the weather stop you from doing things. I’ve lived through many a winter, and you gotta keep moving.”

“That is the secret, isn’t it? Keep moving.” Claire looked professional today, dressed in her uniform. “I wanted to give you the news on Stephanie and ask you a few more questions. Could I offer you a seat in my car? It’s all warmed up.”

“Sounds good. I figure I’ve got another hour out here, getting the rink cleared.”

He walked around the car and pulled the passenger door open. The warmth of the car made his cheeks feel like they were burned.

“I’m sure glad you’re doing the rink. My daughter is very excited about skating this year.”

“I’ve seen her out here. She sure is persistent.”

“Oh, that’s the word for my Meg. Persistent.”

“I worry about that spring on the other side of the park. It weakens the ice. Someone’s going to go through if they’re not careful. You tell Meg to stay away from there.”

He pushed back the seat on the passenger side of the car so he had a little more leg room. Claire pushed back her seat too. “Wish I had some coffee to offer you,” she said.

“Don’t mind about that. Tell me how Stephanie is doing.”

“She has regained consciousness, but I don’t think she’s doing much talking. The doctor I spoke with thinks she’ll need some surgery for her nose and maybe her eyes.”

“Jeez. That poor girl.”

“Yeah. Now I wanted to ask when you got the call and when you got there.”

“I listened to my machine again last night. Stephanie called me while I was at a friend’s eating dinner. She left a message. I got there about five-forty-five. So somewhere in between.”

“That jibes with what my sister said. She saw Stephanie stuck just before she got to my house. That gives us a three-hour window. I need to find out if anyone saw the car parked alongside the road.”

“I wish I would have seen that guy.” Sven had thought about what he could do with a shovel. His doctor told him to take it easy, but it would have been a pleasure to give that guy a licking.

“From a distance, Sven. We’ll get him.”

“I think they’re linked.” Claire told the sheriff. “At first, I suspected that Buck had been beating up Stephanie, even though everyone assured us he was gentle as a lamb. But now it’s obvious that he wasn’t the man.”

“So who is?”

“I have work to do.”

“Do it. I want this figured out before the poor woman gets out of the hospital.”

Claire didn’t tell him that might give her plenty of time. Stephanie’s prognosis was not great. From the way the doctors were talking, she wouldn’t be out for quite a while. “I’m on it.”

Claire went into the computer and pulled all the information she could on Stephanie. She found Stephanie had parents in Eau Claire and a brother down in Winona, as Sandy the postmaster had thought. And then she found that she had been married once about five years ago, to a man named Tom Jackson. They hadn’t been married long, and he lived in Eau Claire, which was only about fifty miles away.

Claire tried the parents first, the Klauses. A man answered the phone. “Is this Mr. Klaus?”

“Yeah. Whadda you want?”

Claire explained who she was and then said, “I’m calling about your daughter, Stephanie.”

“She in trouble?”

“She was badly beaten up yesterday.”

“How bad?”

“She’s in the hospital, probably having surgery on her face right now.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Claire was rather nonplussed. “Well, I’d like to know if you have any idea who could have done this to Stephanie. We found her badly beaten and don’t know who did it to her.”

“Stephanie doesn’t really keep in touch with us. We haven’t hardly known where she is for the last few years. She probably had it coming.”

This man showed none of the normal parental reactions to a daughter being hurt. This was more than the stoical Scandinavian type that Claire ran into in Wisconsin. His lack of reaction went far beyond that. “Do you know her ex-husband?”

“Not really. We weren’t invited to the wedding. I don’t know that they even had one. Didn’t last long. My wife could tell you more. She’s sleeping at the moment. Late night. She works nights.”

Claire gave up. She was going to get little from this man. “I’ll try back later.”

Claire thought of calling the ex-husband, but then decided it might suit her better to drive up and see him in person.

S
HE
was swathed in something. She couldn’t tell what it was. She could feel it with her hands—if only she could lift them up that high. He was keeping her hostage. He had her locked up in a cellar. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t open her eyes. Her head throbbed; her face ached. She hurt in every cell of her body.

There was only one thing to do, one thing that would express the outrage of what she was feeling. She screamed as loud and long as she could. Maybe if she screamed long enough she would die. She wanted to die.

Suddenly there were hands on her arms. Someone, a woman, was talking to her. “It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You were just in surgery. You’re doing fine.”

Stephanie couldn’t remember what had happened. She was running away. Why couldn’t she see? Why was she in the hospital? She had the car packed, the dog … Where was the dog? Had she left the dog to freeze in the snow?

She screamed again.

The woman took her hand. “You have to stop that. You are disturbing everyone around you. Tell me what’s the matter.”

“My dog?”

There was silence. Then the woman said, “I’m sure he’s fine. No one said anything had happened to the dog.”

“My eyes?”

“You’ll be okay. We’ve got them bandaged for now. The doctor will be in soon, and he’ll take off the bandages.”

“I hurt.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do. We have you on Demerol. I’ll give you a little more now. It should make you feel better.”

She hoped this was no new trick of his. A woman to pretend she was a nurse. The dog had to be all right. He was such a good dog. She felt tears in her eyes, but where would the tears go? Her head hurt to its core. It rang like a bell. She thought, he hit me and hit me. Then a river flowed into her veins, and she floated away for a while.

When she came to consciousness again, a man was talking to her. He touched her arm, shook it gently, and said her name.

“What?” The word came out like a croak.

“Stephanie, I’m your doctor. Dr. Klein. How are you feeling?” “Shit.”

“I’m afraid that’s to be expected. You’ve taken a pretty bad beating. We did some surgery on you this morning. Reset your nose and repaired your eyes. All of that will make you feel pretty lousy. But within a day or two, you should be feeling much better. Do you have any questions?”

“My dog?”

Again there was silence. “I’m not sure about your dog. The deputy might know. She’s called a couple times and said she’d be down shortly.”

“Watkins?”

“I believe that’s her name.”

Stephanie relaxed a little. If the woman had found her, she would take care of Snooper. She was a good mother. She would know what to do. Then Stephanie remembered she needed to get away. If he did this to her, he would come again. She didn’t even know if she was safe in the hospital.

“Stephanie, I want to take off the bandages over your eyes now that you’re awake. You can tell me what you can see. We’ve got the lights very dim in the room, so it won’t be a shock.”

She could feel him unpeeling the tape from her face. She wanted to make him stop. Every little movement made her head ring and clang. It hurt so much she sucked in her breath.

“I’m being very gentle. Only a little more to go here,” he said, and then, “There you go.”

Stephanie opened her eyes. This time she saw some vague light and a white face close to hers. “Can you see me?”

“Yes,” she said.

“What do I look like?”

“A blob of white.”

“That’s a start. How many fingers?” The face disappeared, and two sausages appeared in front of her face.

“Two.”

“That’s right. Encouraging. Let’s turn up the lights a bit. Now, Stephanie, I’m going to slightly crank up your bed so you can look around.” The back of the bed pushed into her from behind, forcing her to sit up. “Tell me what you can see.”

Stephanie closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see any more of the world. It was too hard. But then she knew she had to find out about her dog. She opened her eyes and looked as hard as she could. “The door,” she said. It was darker over there. “The windows.” A square of light shone in the room.

“Are you seeing as well as you normally do?”

“No, it’s hard.”

“I think you’re doing well. Let’s rest the eyes again for a while and try a little bit later.”

Time drifted by her as the nurse came and gave her another bump of Demerol. Then someone new walked into the room. A clapping footstep sound.

The person stood next to her bed and sighed. Stephanie managed to open her eyes. She saw a woman with dark hair. Then she could make out the uniform.

“Where’s my dog?” she asked.

“He’s fine.”

Tears came, and this time she felt them run down her cheeks. “He’s fine?” she repeated.

“Yes, he’s staying with a friend of mine. I think you know him—Rich Haggard. Snooper was guarding you when we got there.”

“He was guarding me?”

“Sitting on top of you and growling.”

“He’s a good dog.”

“He’s a very good dog,” Watkins agreed with her, then continued, “How’re you feeling?”

Stephanie thought it was a stupid question. “Look at me. I feel like I look.”

“I’m sorry.”

The deputy’s concern surprised Stephanie. “Thanks.”

“Stephanie, I have to ask you some questions. You need to help me out here. Someone came over to your house yesterday and beat you very badly. They used a champagne bottle to do it.”

“I don’t remember anything at all. It’s gone from my head,” Stephanie said, which was the truth.

“I know this is hard. But I don’t want this to happen to you ever again. Do you know who did it?”

She could guess. He had beat her so many times before, though never so badly she had to go to the hospital. But she couldn’t tell. She had to get away. If she told, they would make her stay and fight him. She couldn’t do it. They didn’t know what he was like. He would win in the end.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Deputy Watkins stayed silent.

“I don’t know who did it,” Stephanie said a little louder.

Deputy Watkins sighed. “I was hoping you would remember and tell us so we could arrest him and protect you.” “I can’t.”

A nurse walked in the room and stood behind the deputy. “Stephanie, your brother called. He asked how you were doing. He said he’d try to stop by later and see you. He told me to tell you.”

Stephanie nodded. Her brother checking on her.

“I’ll be back to see if you’ve remembered anything. If you do, tell one of the nurses. They have my number. They’ll call me, and I’ll come right down.”

Stephanie nodded again, just wanting the deputy to leave. She was too tired to do anything to save herself.

“You can’t even guess who hurt you?” The deputy wouldn’t give up.

Stephanie felt her head hurt from all the questions. “Not a clue,” she said. The lies came so easily—she’d had a lifetime of practice.

Driving into Eau Claire, Claire realized it had been a while since she had come here. When Claire first moved to tiny Fort St. Antoine, she missed the big cities, but now she found them exhausting, the traffic more frustrating than ever.

She didn’t know her way around Eau Claire very well, so she stopped, got out a good map, and located the street that Tom Jackson lived on.

Fifteen minutes later she parked in front of Jackson’s house. She knocked on the door and waited, then knocked again. Finally a woman came to the door. Tall and thin, she looked unhealthy. Her hair was dull brown and oily, and her eyes looked like dark pools.

“What can I do for you?” she asked sullenly.

Claire was surprised the uniform didn’t impress the woman a little more. Maybe she had seen it too many times. She decided to show her the badge too. “I’m here to talk to Tom Jackson … your husband?”

“He’s not exactly my husband. Technically we’re not married.”

“Is he here?”

“Naw, he’s at work. They had to work today. You should know that. Plus he gets time and a half.”

“Who am I speaking with?”

“My name’s Debby. Debby Thompson.”

“Debby, may I come in?”

“You wanta come in? The house is a mess. Didn’t clean up from last night.” Debby backed up and let her into the living room. A crocheted afghan was piled on the couch. A pillow leaned against one arm of the couch. The woman had evidently been lying there when Claire came to the door.

Claire could see through to the dining room, where the table was covered with dirty dishes; empty bowls of food littered the middle, with the scrawny carcass of a turkey presiding over the whole mess.

Debby explained, “Had the parents over last night. I had made the whole meal and nobody offered to help with dishes, so I let them set.”

“Was Tom with you all of yesterday?”

“Sure. Why? What’s this about? Tom’s okay, isn’t he?”

“I’m not here to give you bad news about Tom. I’m here about someone else.” Claire decided to try a different tack. “Did you know his ex-wife, Stephanie Klaus?”

“Heard about her. That’s about all. Never met the woman. Tom doesn’t have too much good to say about her. I’m just glad they didn’t have any kids. Always makes it messier, hard on the kids. I’ve got three of my own. They’re off at their grandparents’ today.” Debby put her hand to her head.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, I get these migraines. I can’t do nothing. Can’t move. Can’t stand noise or light. Just got to stick it out. I take pills, but they don’t do much. You ever had a migraine?” “No.”

“Don’t know how lucky you are.” Debby sat down on the couch.

“So Tom didn’t leave the house all day?” “He left once. To go get some beer for dinner.” “What time was that?” “Midafternoon.” “How long was he gone?” “Didn’t pay much attention. An hour or two.” “An hour or two? To get beer?” Claire questioned. “He might have stopped for a few on the way.” The drive from Fort St. Antoine was about an hour. It might be possible.

“Where does Tom work?” “You don’t know?” “No. Should I?”

The woman pulled the afghan over her shoulders and gave Claire the address of the Eau Claire police department. Claire felt like an idiot that she hadn’t known he was a cop. He must have joined the force after he divorced Stephanie.

Claire had one more question. How do you ask a woman if her boyfriend is beating her? “Debby, how does he treat you?”

Debby looked at her oddly and then asked, “What do you mean?”

“Does Tom ever get rough with you?” “What the hell is this about? It’s none of your business. He’s way better than a lot of the men I’ve known. He treats me fine.”

Claire noticed that Debby hadn’t said that Tom never hit her.

When Claire left the house, she thought of putting off the talk with Tom Jackson until after she had checked him out through the grapevine. She didn’t like to walk into interviews cold. But she didn’t relish another drive to Eau Claire, especially if the weather stayed nasty. The roads were still icy from the last snowstorm, and they were talking about more on the way.

The police department was downtown in the old courthouse building. Claire loved the stonework of the building from the 1800s.

Tom Jackson stepped around his desk when he heard Claire call his name. He was a big man with a barrel chest and sandy hair. His eyes were dirty brown, and he had freckles like constellations on his face. He greeted her with a careful smile.

Claire flipped her ID for him. “Mr. Jackson, I’m here to ask you some questions about Stephanie Klaus.”

He stepped back, shaking his head a little. “Stephanie Klaus, haven’t thought of her in a while. What do you want to know? She all right?”

“You were married to her?”

“You
must know that. What’d she say about me?”

“Stephanie didn’t say anything.”

“You been talking to Debby.”

“I checked my contacts to find out where you were working.”

“Yeah, I know a couple of guys work for Pepin County.” He ran his eyes up and down her body. “Heard they had a good-looking woman working there. What do you want to know?”

“Have you seen Stephanie recently?”

“Haven’t seen her in about four years, I think. No, I did run into her in Eau Claire once, but that was still a few years ago. I think she was visiting her folks. What’s this about?”

“She was assaulted yesterday afternoon. She’s in the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She watched his eyes as she told him about Stephanie. “Broken nose, damage to her eyes.”

He winced. “Jeez. She was a nice kid. Just didn’t work out between us.”

“May I ask why not?”

“Who’s to say? We were too young, for starters. She was nineteen, I was twenty. I think she married me just to get out of the house. She didn’t get along with her folks that good. I married her because it seemed the thing to do. She wanted it so bad. Then six months later, out of the blue, she left me. Never really knew why. Didn’t care that much. I could tell it wasn’t working out.”

“Were you at home all yesterday?”

He bulked up right in front of her, chest out, arms crossed. “Don’t tell me you think I had something to do with Stephanie. You gotta be kiddin’. I don’t have to take this. Ask anyone around here what kind of cop I am. You have a lot of nerve coming in here and asking me questions.”

Claire waited a few moments for him to calm down. “I’m sorry to offend you with my questioning. I’m just doing my job. You were home all yesterday?”

“Sure I was. It was Thanksgiving. Girlfriend cooked a nice meal. Her parents came over. That’s all I did.”

“Do you know anyone who might have done this to Stephanie?”

“I told you, I didn’t really know her, and I certainly haven’t had anything to do with her recently. I’d nearly forgotten all about her. But you might want to talk to her father. As I recall, he was a mean son of a bitch. They live right out of town.”

Claire thought that might be a good idea.

Her brooch had gone missing. Mrs. Tabor had looked high and low for it. She had wanted to wear it on her dark burgundy wool dress for Thanksgiving at her daughter’s. Her husband had given her that brooch for their first wedding anniversary. She remembered he had told her that the past year had been the best of his life, and he wanted a few more. They had had many more together—nearly fifty before he had died of a heart attack.