Shelf Ice (5 page)

“Can I have my pills and go home?” Ray asked.

“Not a chance,” she replied firmly. “The fact that we haven’t found a specific cause for your symptoms doesn’t mean there isn’t a problem. Medicine is an inexact science, you know. We don’t have all the answers. I want you here tonight so if something happens, we can get you the needed care immediately.”

She helped Ray get back into his gown. “Try to get some sleep, I know that’s hard to do in a hospital. I’ll check on you in the morning.”

Dr. Jeffers started out, stopped, and returned to the side of the bed. “Saul Feldman says you’re a kayaker, that you spend lots of time on Lake Michigan.”

“Yes,” said Ray.

“I need someone to kayak with. I can’t find anyone who wants to go out in winter.”

“Got a drysuit and a boat?” asked Ray.

“Yes, a custom-made drysuit. I’m too small for the normal women’s size. And I have a fiberglass boat with a skeg. Kayaking was a major passion before I went to Iraq. I want to get back into it.”

“I haven’t been out much lately,” said Ray. “I miss it.”

“I’ll be by in the morning to see how you’re doing,” she said, heading toward the door.

7.

Ray stood in front of a tall oval mirror in his bathroom shaving. He was only a few hours out of the hospital, released mid-morning after a conference with his internist, Saul Feldman. Sue Lawrence had picked him up from the hospital and dropped him at his home so he could bathe and change into fresh clothing.
 
Ray brushed on some warm lather and carefully scraped it off with a razor, one cheek, then the other, under his nose, his chin, and finally long careful strokes from his neck to his chin.

As he wiped away the remaining soap he looked at his upper body. He noted the large bruise on his right shoulder, probably from the seatbelt. There was also a discoloration on his upper arm; he wondered again what he had hit. Maybe he had slammed into the door, perhaps it was just the force of his body against the seatbelt.

Ray rotated to the left and looked at the other side of his upper torso. He could see a large contusion that started at the sternum and extended to the side of his rib cage. Everything was sore: his back, his arms, and his neck. Instead of going into the office, Ray thought about how nice it would be to take a long, hot bath and then climb into bed with the stack of recent
New Yorkers
he hadn’t opened yet and spend the day reading.

As he dressed, he reflected on his encounter with Sarah the evening before. He wanted to write about this, to go to his journal and get his feelings on paper. Although he’d only known her a few months, they had quickly developed a comfortable intimacy and rapport. Sarah had become a close friend during a time of pain and recovery.
 
And now she will be gone,
he thought, feeling suddenly sad and alone.
 
But before he could ponder that much longer, he heard Sue Lawrence announcing her presence with a shout from the entrance. He walked into the kitchen to greet her in slippers, carrying his socks.

“Don’t you ever lock your doors?”

“God’s country. Nothing bad happens up here,” he fired back.

“Do you need coffee?” she asked. “We’re hitting the road.”

“Yes, coffee, please. My need is desperate. A hospital is a poor place to get any sleep. There were people bothering me all night, making sure I hadn’t died on them.” As he sat and pulled on his socks, Sue started the coffee, putting water on to boil, grinding the beans, and preparing the French press.

“What’s the urgency?” he asked, as he started lacing on a pair of boots.

“There’s no urgency,” she said, “not now.”

Ray waited for her to explain.

“When I got back to the office this morning after dropping you off, I got a call from Central. They had dispatched the Lake Township Fire Department to a house fire. It’s Brenda Manton’s house. I just talked to the fire chief on my way over here. The building was fully engulfed and starting to collapse when they arrived. They’ve just been protecting the scene and waiting on us for instructions. I’ve called the State Police for an arson investigator. Mike Ogden is on his way.” Sue paused briefly. “He should get here in a couple of hours, hopefully before the next storm rolls in.”

“I’ve lost track,” said Ray. “What’s?…”

“An Alberta clipper is on the way. We’re looking at a lot of lake-effect snow.”

“Who called in the fire?”

“It was a conservation officer. He had spent most of the night looking for a poacher, someone had been reported shining in the area. He noticed a glow on the horizon and went to investigate, found the fire, and called it in.”

“You had finished processing the scene?”

“Yes, but I like to know that I can go back a second or a third time.”

“The road had been closed off?”

“After we secured the building, I had Brett string police lines around the exterior and put some barriers at the end of the access road.”

 
“You should talk to the man who called this in. See if he saw anything.”

“I’ve arranged to meet him later this afternoon. He’s going to stop by the office on his way home.” Sue paused for a few moments, “That’s the first piece of bad news.”

“Okay, give me the rest.”

I talked to a doctor at Spectrum about Brenda. He’s not optimistic, says there’s just too much brain damage. It looks like Brenda is going to die without ever regaining consciousness.”

Sue set Ray’s travel mug on the table in front of him and carefully filled it.

“Why don’t you go out and look at the scene, and I’ll go to the office,” said Ray. “This whole investigation is spinning out of control. We’ve got to get some focus before things start getting cold.”

“Have you had any breakfast?

 
“I’ll get something later. We’ll meet when you get back from the crime scene,” Ray said as he started to pull himself out of his chair.

“Stay for a minute,” said Sue. “We need to talk.”

Ray settled back into his chair.

“I had a conversation with your doctor this morning on my way in.”

“Which one?”

“Feldman. He said he would have preferred to keep you hospitalized for a day or two longer for observation, but he knew that was impossible. He doesn’t want you to drive, and he directed me to make sure you had regular meals and get some sleep.”

“So what’s he thinking, you’re my keeper?”

“He said he told you the same thing.”

“I don’t remember the driving bit.”

“Ray, I’m not used to you being a grump,” Sue paused briefly. “I’m sure we can find something for you to eat here in one of the best-stocked larders in the north. Then we will be on our way.”

8.

Ray carefully cleaned the large whiteboard in his office, using a spray bottle and special cloth. He moved slowly, thinking more about how to organize the investigation than the task at hand. After his initial pass, he wiped the board a second time, removing all traces of pigment.

He eyed the collection of markers, finally settling on a dark blue. Moving to the top center he penned
Brenda Manton.
Then he moved to the left side of the board and started listing categories of people who might provide information that would lead them to Manton’s assailant: friends, family, neighbors, professional contacts, community (yoga, coffee shop, church, organization, medical, hair). After he had finished the list, Ray moved up to friends and wrote Molly Birchard and Tristan Laird.

Moving to the left, he jotted
snowplow
and
scene evidence
.

Sue entered the office, carrying Simone, the terrier, under her left arm, and stood at Ray’s side and viewed the board.

“What have we got?” she asked taking in the information.

“An early draft, just a sketch,” said Ray. “I’m not sure my brain is really here yet.” He looked at the dog, “Are you sure you shouldn’t drop her off at animal control?”

“She’s no problem. I think that would be one more trauma. Are you okay with my keeping her around until we find a suitable place for her?”

“Sure. We’ll make you our K-9 officer.”

They settled at the conference table, the dog in Sue’s lap.

“What’s happening with the press?” Ray asked.

“I put out a brief statement that an area woman had been assaulted in a possible home invasion. I noted that the woman had sustained injuries and had been hospitalized. I also reported that a sheriff’s deputy had been injured near the scene and a department vehicle damaged by the likely assailant.”

“You didn’t give away much.”

“We hadn’t had a chance to talk about a media strategy. I didn’t know what you wanted out there. And at that point I hadn’t even confirmed that the victim we removed from the house was Brenda Manton.”

“And you have?”

“Yes,” said Sue, shifting the dog around on her lap. “Manton’s personal physician provided a positive identification before she was transported to Grand Rapids. I also notified the receiving hospital that Manton should be provided extra security. I didn’t know whether or not you would be available, so I told the TV reporters that I’d try to give them an update this afternoon, something they could run on the evening news. Do you want to do the interview?”

“No, go ahead. You’ve done a good job developing your role as the department spokesperson.”

“What more should I tell them?”

“I think we disclose the victim’s name, that she’s been transported to a down-state hospital for treatment, and that we are pursuing a number of leads. And then the usual community appeal, anyone who might have information relevant to this case should contact us immediately. Have them put our phone number, the silent witness number, and our email address on screen. Think that will be enough to keep them satisfied?”

“Yes. They’re so lightly staffed these days that there’s no one with the extra time to really birddog us for more info.”

“How about the paper?”

“Since they laid off their crime reporter in the fall, they just run what we give them.”

“It makes our life a bit easier, but long term it’s not a good thing. It lets our local politicos muck about without any accountability. And speaking of accountability, we need to start with Richard Kinver.”

“Do you want me to get him in here?”

“No, I want to go out to his place. Talk to him and get a list and talk to anyone who had access to the truck. And I’d like to do that this afternoon. I’ll call him as soon as we finish.”

Ray stood and walked toward the board. “When you worked the scene, what did you get?”

“No smoking gun, but I think I can tell you what probably happened. The assailant kicked in the door. She had locks and deadbolts, and unlike you, she used them. But everything around the door was shattered. It was a clear case of improperly installed locks. All they were doing was catching the trim board. A small woman could have kicked them in. Not that it mattered much. If the assailant had too much trouble with the door, he would have smashed through a window.”

“So, do you have a scenario?…”

“I think this all happened really fast. I think the assailant arrived, kicked in the door, and attacked her. I think he probably left her for dead. It went down in just a minute or two.”

“So this is what the assailant knew,” he said, starting to add categories and notes:
location, victim lived alone
. Ray paused for a minute, poured some more coffee into his mug, and took several long sips, setting the mug back on the table. “Put yourself in the assailant’s head. Three in the morning. The woman lives in an isolated spot. No landline, no cable. Her cell is her only contact to the outside. Obviously, this wasn’t random. The person knew she was there and alone. It wasn’t a stealth attack, they’d have come on skis or snowshoes if they had wanted that.”

“And the attacker might not have anticipated that she was awake,” said Sue, “or that she was texting when he arrived.”

“How could she send the last message that fast?” Ray asked.

“You don’t text.”

“I’ve tried. My fingers are too big. All I do is back up and try to fix mistakes.”

“Watch a tenth grader. She was probably real fast and connected at the time someone was smashing their way in.”

“You didn’t find the cell phone?”

“No, but I’ll order the records once I establish the carrier.”

“The assailant didn’t leave the scene right away. What was he doing, was he looking for something?”

“You saw the interior. It didn’t seem torn apart except for a scuffle.”

“How about a computer?” asked Ray.

“There was a tower and a big display and a large format printer. There was also a lot of high-end digital camera equipment. She probably used those in her artwork.”

Ray’s cell sounded. He switched it on and Sarah James’ face appeared on the screen.