On Thin Ice Read online

  It was just the three of them in Peterson’s office. Megan didn’t say anything. They were sitting side by side in chairs, so Alec couldn’t see the particular expression on her face, and he could only guess what she was thinking. He didn’t look at her as he told Peterson about the death of Megan’s grandmother.

  Detective Peterson took down the particulars and wanted to know more about Megan’s grandmother’s death. He was going to look up the files and reports about that case, he said.

  Megan asked, “Do you think these deaths are somehow connected to my grandmother?”

  “We don’t know,” he said. “There might or might not be a connection. We won’t know until we go down that road for a while.” To Alec he said, “And your brother, he has maintained his innocence to this day?”

  Alec said he had.

  “So maybe we’re looking at something else,” Detective Peterson suggested.

  Megan said, “I think so, because if the person who killed my grandmother got away with it—presuming they did—why stir all this up now? Twenty years after the fact?”

  Detective Peterson shrugged and Alec shook his head.

  “We’re dealing with a serial killer,” Detective Peterson said.

  Alec jerked his head in the detective’s direction.

  “Three deaths. Same MO. It might be time to call in the FBI.”

  Alec swallowed slowly. If the FBI became involved, his perjury would certainly be made known. There would be no way around that. As well, the FBI surely would question Bryan. He didn’t know if he was ready to come forward with everything just yet.

  Detective Peterson wrote down Bryan’s telephone number and address. He also made a copy of the wedding guest list and all the information Megan and Alec had gathered so far. He promised Alec he would keep in touch. He shook their hands and they said goodbye.

  On the way to Bath, Maine, Megan said, “It might be Saul Kluffas.”

  Lost in his own thoughts, Alec was momentarily baffled by her comment. “Who is Saul Kluffas?”

  “He has black hair. I sort of remember him.”

  “I don’t.”

  “He worked on the high school yearbook with me. I think he liked me. A friend told me he had a crush on me.”

  “Everyone had a crush on you at one time or another.” If everyone who ever liked Megan was a suspect, their list would be long indeed.

  The back of her neck reddened. “You give me too much credit. I think most people just felt sorry for me because my parents died and I was an only child who grew up with my grandmother.”

  Just before the turnoff to Bath, Alec surprised himself by saying, “Do you think…do you think there might be a chance for us? For the two of us? Now? I’d love it if we could explore that a bit. Just to see where it leads.”

  Why had he just asked her that? Was it because last night, when he had said good-night, he had briefly touched her hand? Was it because, despite what had come between him, he could sense that she felt the same way about him?

  She shook her head and looked away. “I don’t know. Maybe too much time has passed. The one thing I’ve learned is that a person can never go back and change the past.”

  He sighed. What about going forward? He wanted to know. But maybe she was right. You can never go back, yet these murders were forcing them to do just that.

  “I’m just not the girl you remember,” she said.

  “But you are,” he said, after some thought. “You are the girl I fell in love with.” Later, he said, “I wish I could go back and undo things.”

  “Like I said, you can never go back.” After a moment she asked, “Do you still go to church? Do you mind me asking?”

  “I don’t mind at all. My relationship with God is important to me. It’s a journey. I’ve not yet arrived.”

  She said, “I’ve not arrived, either. I’m not even out the gate. Sometimes I have this idea that God is still punishing me, that he punished me by taking my parents and then my grandmother and next my baby. That’s an idea I can’t get out of my head. The girl you remember then had her life all figured out and planned ahead of her. The woman I am now doesn’t know a thing.”

  “You still have that soft center, Megan, that concern for people. You were so good with my mother all through the dinner yesterday.”

  “I felt sorry for her. She seemed so lost. So thin and jittery. I guess we all carry things that at times feel too heavy for us.”

  “I guess we do.”

  He looked at her sadly. She was so out of reach. He wanted to offer her comfort, give her some great words of wisdom, but how could he when he couldn’t share with her the one thing that was uppermost on his mind. They were getting near the residential streets of her old house in Bath, Maine. “You’ll have to direct me here,” he said, looking at the road signs. “What was the address?”

  She told him.

  Together they navigated toward town using the map he’d downloaded from the Internet.

  “My mother’s been like that for a while, anxious. I told you that she worries about Bryan. She’s also worried about my dad. She carries a lot, or feels she has to carry a lot.”

  “I guess that would be difficult,” Megan said. “Losing a child.” Her voice was a whisper. “Losing a child is always difficult. No matter what the circumstances.”

  He reached over and laid a hand on top of her clenched fists. He expected her to stiffen, but she didn’t. She seemed to soften. He kept his hand there. He could sense her trembling as they began to drive down the road to the house Megan had lived in for the first five years of her life. He stopped when he came to it, but kept the car engine running for warmth.

  From her purse she extracted the picture that had been emailed to her. This was the same place. They both could see it. Except for the snow it was exactly like the picture. He turned off the engine.

  “What should we do?” She looked at him expectantly.

  “We’ll go and talk to the people who live there now. Maybe they know who took the picture.”

  “What if the black-haired man lives there?” She shuddered.

  “Then we’ll find out, won’t we?” But he wasn’t as confident as he made himself sound. What if the black-haired man did live there? Should he have called for some kind of backup?

  “Okay, then. Let’s go.” She opened her door and hopped out.

  Picture in hand, they walked up the plowed driveway. Alec pressed the doorbell. People had been here. Lots of people. There was an abundance of footprints and tire prints. No one seemed to be here now, though. No one came to the door.

  There was no movement from inside the house. He rang the doorbell again, but there was no answer. As they were making their way back to the car, a woman from next door came racing out toward them, waving her arms and calling. She wore a long purple house-coat, pink sponge curlers and, despite the snow encrusted banks, her thick calloused feet were stuffed into a pair of floppy mules.

  “Yoo-hoo!” she called and waved. “Are you here about the house? They put me in charge of it. They’re in Florida for the winter.”

  Alec unfolded the picture. “Actually, we’re looking for the person who took this picture. Have you seen someone around taking pictures of the house?”

  “He might’ve had black hair,” Megan added. Alec silenced her with a look. The one thing you didn’t do in police work was put ideas in people’s heads.

  “Black hair?”

  The woman pulled her glasses up onto her nose and peered down at the picture.

  “That picture? I don’t know anything about black hair, but maybe Claudia took it. Or Maxine. Could’ve been Bill. I’ve met all of them in the past week. Wait a minute,” she said raising her forefinger. “I think it was Marcus who took this one. You should see Marcus. Very handsome guy.”

  All of this was making Alec’s head spin. “Who exactly are those people?” Alec asked.

  The woman looked at him with surprise in her eyes. “The real estate people. I’ve met them
all in the past week. But, if I can be honest, I think they’re asking way too much for the house in today’s economy.” She shook her head from side to side. “Too much. But don’t tell anyone I said that. I’m only saying that because you two seem like a nice young couple. The neighborhood could sure use some nice young people like you two.”

  Megan said, “This is a real estate picture?”

  “Right. It’s on the Internet too, and it’s been in the paper. Especially when they had that open house last Saturday. Tons of people came to look at it.”

  “The house is for sale,” Alec said thoughtfully. “How come there’s no sign?” he asked.

  The woman waved her hand. “That’s the Randolsons for you. They don’t want people knowing they’re away and their house is for sale. Don’t ask me why.”

  “How long have you lived here?” Alec asked.

  “Coming on fifteen years. I bought the place right after my husband Roger died. I’ve been living here ever since. If you want the place, you’d better hurry. I heard there’s an offer on it.”

  “An offer?” Alec raised his eyebrows.

  “That’s what the neighbors are saying.”

  “Can you tell me, Mrs….?”

  “Woolenstook. Marva Woolenstook.” She extended her hand.

  “I’m Alec Black, Mrs. Woolenstook, and this is Megan Brooks. You wouldn’t happen to know who made this offer, would you?”

  She shook her head so vigorously that one of her pink curlers fell out onto the snowbank. She bent way over to pick it up. When she had risen to full height, she said, “Couldn’t tell you. I’m not even sure if what I have is accurate information. I heard it from Flo Fisher across the street, but that woman is a gossip, so I don’t know if it’s true or not.”

  “Can you tell us which real estate firm the house is listed with?”

  She told him and gave him directions to get there.

  They thanked her and left.

  Later in the car Megan said, “How much you want to bet that the black-haired man is the one who made the offer.”

  “Well,” said Alec as they made their way downtown, “we’re about to find out.”

  When Alec and Megan arrived at the real estate office and expressed interest in the property, the woman named Maxine ushered them into her office while extolling the virtues of the property.

  “We understood,” Alec said, “that there’s been an offer made on that place.”

  She looked up at them. “Where did you hear that?”

  Megan said, “From a neighbor.”

  “Marva?” The woman made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You can’t believe a word she says. That woman likes to gossip. No, there is no offer currently pending on that property. I could show the house to you today, if you like. The owners are away.”

  “Was there an offer on it at one time?” he asked.

  “We had someone interested in the property but they ended up not coming up with the financing.”

  He regarded her. “They? Or him?”

  Maxine leaned back in her chair and said, “Excuse me?”

  “Who was it?” Megan asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m really not at liberty to say.”

  It was time to stop the charade. “We’re not looking for a house,” Alec said. “I’m a police officer.” He got out his badge and ID and showed them to her. “We’re looking for someone.” He described the man that both Marlene and Polly had seen and asked Maxine if anyone with this description had been through the house.

  She looked from one to the other. “Well, I don’t know, Officer. Lots of people have been shown the house.” Was it his imagination or was she becoming cagey and cautious?

  “Black hair,” Megan said. “He would have had noticeable thick, black hair.”

  “As I said, there have been a lot of people who’ve gone through that house. I would imagine that quite a few of them had thick, black hair.”

  “This would be a single man, someone alone,” Alec added.

  “This is really important,” Megan said. “Have you had some open houses? Sometimes there are guest books at those.”

  Alec wondered if this conversation was hopeless. If the black-haired man had been clever enough to kill three people, then he would not be so stupid as to sign a guest book with his real name.

  “We’ve had lots of open houses. And yes, I have guest books,” Maxine said.

  “Would you mind showing them to us?” Alec asked.

  After a short pause, where she appeared to be weighing his question, she said, “Yes, I would mind. Do you have a warrant for this sort of thing?”

  When Alec realized there was no more to be gained here without a warrant, he cut the conversation short, thanked Maxine and said goodbye. “And if you change your mind about the guest book, please give me a call.” He laid a business card on her desk and he and Megan left.

  “So,” Megan said later in the car. “Whoever sent me the picture just copied it off the Internet? I really don’t think he made an offer at all.”

  “You could be right. Then again, he could be the person who couldn’t get financing.”

  The sky was still light when they pulled into a fast-food restaurant in Bangor. They both ordered cheeseburgers. He remembered she loved cheeseburgers. Over their quick meal they reviewed the case, the yearbook, the guest list and what they thought they had accomplished. Maybe not a lot. Maybe more than they knew.

  He wanted to ask her again if she thought there was a chance for them. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Right now it was enough to be with her.

  “In answer to your question about whether there’s a chance for us—maybe,” Megan said as they walked back to the car together.

  He felt his heart soar.

  Later as they neared the exit that led to a large rest area and campground, Alec drove that way on a whim.

  “Where we going?” she asked.

  “Time to stretch my legs. Long legs and a short car make for a long trip,” he said.

  He took the road that led down to the campsite and rest area. Everything was closed, of course, but he knew that from this place they could see Mount Katahdin. He pointed it out to Megan.

  “Do you remember Mount Katahdin, Meggie?”

  “How could I forget?”

  They couldn’t drive too far. The road had only been minimally plowed. When they got as far as the plowing would allow, Alec stopped the car. They got out and walked a few hundred feet. From this vantage point they had a clear view of the snowcapped mountain that had meant so much to them at one time.

  Her eyes on Mount Katahdin, Megan said, “Of course I remember that mountain. I could never forget that trail, and hiking with all the kids.” She smiled. “I never thought I would make it.”

  They talked for a while, reminiscing about the group of kids who had hiked up the mountain with them on that day. Alec surprised himself by even mentioning a few specific names. They stood in companionable quiet together remembering the day it all began for them.

  “That was a good summer,” he said.

  “A very good summer.” She wasn’t looking at him when she said this. Her gaze instead had turned toward the mountain. He touched her hair and gently turned her face toward him. He looked down into her blue eyes.

  “Your eyes. Such a pretty color. I don’t remember them being that way. Maybe it’s because you wore glasses then.”

  She leaned back from him and laughed. “They’re contact lenses, Alec. You can get them in all different colors. If you get close enough, you can tell they’re contacts.”

  He put one hand on her hair and drew her to him. Their lips found each other as if by instinct.

  The kiss seemed to take both of them by surprise.

  On the way back to the car, he took her hand and said, “I know this is awkward.”

  “But lovely just the same,” she said.

  They held hands as they made their way back to his car in the cold. He wished it could stay like this
, just him and Megan, the way it used to be.

  But it wasn’t. It never would be. As he got back in the driver’s seat he realized just how far they were from normalcy.

  He had just kissed the woman he loved, yet a murderer was still out there, a murderer who could be following them at this very moment. He adjusted his mirror and headed back toward Whisper Lake Crossing.

  Why did that dark thought intrude upon his thinking right now? He tried to push it aside, but while he held Megan’s hand he remembered the line in the back cover of Bryan’s yearbook. Megan will always be mine. Why had he been so quick to say it wasn’t Bryan’s handwriting?

  The truth was that he wasn’t sure.

  The rest of the way home Megan thought about that kiss and about Alec. She thought about the almost tentative way his mouth had probed hers. He had called it “awkward.” And it certainly was. It was because she didn’t know what it meant or how she really felt. He had wanted to know if there was a chance for them. She wanted there to be, but she was afraid. When they got back into Alec’s car, they didn’t talk much. It was as if they were both trying to process what had happened back there. They were attracted to each other, that much was for certain, but could she trust him? Could she trust her rapidly beating heart? Could she trust anyone? She didn’t know the answer to that.

  She needed to come to terms with the past. But on cold, lonely nights, her mind would go back to the day that her grandmother fell. Alec and his mother and father had come to the hospital when she had frantically called them. They sat with her and talked with the police about the suspicious fall. But then her grandmother, in her feeble voice, had pointed to Alec’s parents and said, “Your son did this. He pushed me.” Megan had immediately gasped, looking at Alec, her hand on her mouth.

  Instead of saying something like, “That’s not true,” Alec had gotten red in the face, stood up and walked out of the hospital room with not a word to anyone. After a moment of surprise, his parents had followed him.