The Cold Kiss (10 page)

20

I walked around behind Zack’s building and saw him standing next to a dirty white pickup truck. He had a cigarette in his mouth and a roll of bailing wire in his hand. When he saw me, he dropped the cigarette on the ground and let it smolder a moment before crushing it under his boot.

“Glad to see she’s feeling better.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Zack turned and opened the tailgate. The bed of the truck was coated with rust and lined with several fifty-pound bags of sand. There was a large red metal toolbox sitting against the side of the bed. Zack pulled it over and opened the latch.

He handed me the bailing wire and said, “Unroll about six feet. I’ll try to find something else we can use.”

“You don’t think this’ll work?”

“It’ll prove we tried, but it won’t work.” He motioned toward the front of the pickup. “The mounting bracket snapped in half. Tell me what you think.”

I walked around and saw the rusted metal bracket on the front of the truck. It was still attached, but it’d been split along the base. Even if we could get the plow reattached, it wasn’t going to hold.

Zack was right.

“I don’t care how much wire we use,” Zack said. “This truck ain’t going all the way to Frieberg. We’ll be lucky to get a mile or two down the road.”

“How about without the plow?” I motioned to the sandbags in the back end. “What if we put more weight in the back?”

Zack didn’t look up from the toolbox. “Not with those tires. Not a chance.”

I stepped back and saw what he meant. The tires were worn to wire. I thought about asking how the truck moved in snow at all, but changed my mind.

I started to unroll the wire.

When Zack found what he was after, he closed the toolbox then slid it back against the side of the truck bed. He slammed the tailgate, but it wouldn’t latch.

It took several tries to get it to close.

“How old is this truck?” I asked.

“Old,” He said. “But it does the job. At least it used to.”

Zack came around to the front of the truck and set a crusted tube of epoxy on the hood. He watched me unroll the wire for a while then said, “Why are you two packed?”

“We were going to try our luck on the road,” I said. “Thought we’d look for a phone that worked and get an ambulance out here.”

“What for?”

“What do you mean, what for?”

Zack looked at me like he didn’t know what I was talking about, then he said, “That guy in there is already dead. You know that as well as I do.”

“We might be able to help him.”

“Help him?” Zack laughed. “Now that’s funny.”

I kept quiet.

“Well, you do what you want,” Zack said. “It might look better if you stick around, but I won’t stop you.”

“Look better?”

Zack smiled. “You figure it out.”

I didn’t need to. I understood.

“You know, I had a feeling you two were thinking about leaving.” Zack took a piece of yellow paper out of his pocket and held it up for me to see. “So, I went ahead and wrote down your license plate number in case you got stuck and we needed to send the state patrol out to find you.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” I said.

Zack put the paper back in his pocket. “I figured it was better to be safe. Weather around here can be unpredictable.”

I started to say something else, but he cut me off.

“You and I really should bust the seal on that Johnny Walker bottle when we’re done here,” he said. “We have a few things to discuss.”

“Like what?”

“We can start with you telling me what you were doing in my shed last night, and what you saw. After that, I’m pretty much open.”

I started to explain about the unlocked shed door, but I stopped myself. I didn’t see the point.

“I’ll leave it up to you.”

“I’m not much of a drinker,” I said.

“One won’t kill you.”

“What if I say no?”

Zack looked at me for a moment, then he smiled and pointed to the roll of bailing wire in my hand.

“Six feet.”

It took a while to get the plow attachment mounted, but eventually we did. Zack thought by threading the bailing wire through the mounting bracket then coating it with epoxy, no one would be able to say we didn’t try. It looked good and it felt sturdy, and when we were finished, I had a sick feeling that it might actually hold.

Zack didn’t.

“Time to show the queen in there that I was right.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It looks good to me.”

Zack ignored me then walked around the truck to the driver’s side and got in. When he started the engine, a thick black cloud of exhaust rose into the air. It hung for a moment before the wind carried it away.

“You want to come along?”

I told him I was going back to my room.

“Think about that drink,” he said.

I told him I would.

Zack nodded then put the truck in gear and pulled around the building, kicking up snow as he went.

I watched him go, then followed.

When I got to the side of the building, I heard a loud screech and the sound of metal grinding on metal.

I ran around the corner and saw Zack getting out of the truck. The front mounting had snapped and the metal edge had ripped into the fender. The plow itself was caught under the wheels, and from where I was standing, one of the tires looked shredded.

Zack walked around front then knelt down and tried to work the plow loose. When it wouldn’t come free, he got up and started pacing through the snow, talking to himself.

I watched him for a while, then I turned and went back to our room.

21

Sara was waiting for me on the bed when I went inside. I told her about the plow, then I told her Zack wanted to have a drink and talk.

“You don’t drink anymore.”

“I know that.”

“What does he want to talk about?”

“He knows I was in his shed.”

“That’s it?”

“Far as I know.”

“Then he didn’t see you last night.”

I wasn’t convinced of that, so I didn’t say anything.

Sara was quiet for a minute, then she said, “Did he really write down our license plate?”

I didn’t actually see the numbers on the piece of paper, but it didn’t matter. He knew something, and he was letting me know it. I told this to Sara.

“So, you’re going over there?”

“I have to.”

“He might be bluffing.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe not, I don’t know.”

Sara turned away and stared out the window, and for a while neither of us said anything.

I looked around the room.

There was a small writing table next to the window and a dresser against the far wall. I got up and pulled the dresser away from the wall and looked behind.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a place to hide the suitcase.” I pushed the dresser back. “Just in case.”

“What’s wrong with under the bed?”

“It’ll be the first place anyone looks,” I said. “We have to put it someplace else.”

“Who do you expect to come looking?”

I told her I didn’t know, and I didn’t.

It was just a feeling.

I checked the bathroom, but it was too small.

When I came out Sara said, “How about in the bed?”

“In the bed?”

She walked around to the headboard and grabbed the edge of the mattress then slid it to the side. “We can put it inside the box spring.”

I stepped closer and pulled the mattress the rest of the way off then leaned it against the wall.

There was a thin fabric covering the box spring. I bent down and grabbed a corner and tore it away.

“All we have to do is bust a few of those wood slats and pull the springs out of the center,” Sara said. “Then we put the suitcase inside and cover it with the mattress.”

The wood slats were old and starting to rot. Breaking them wouldn’t be a problem, but I thought the springs might be tough.

I told Sara to wait, then I grabbed my coat off the chair and went outside. I walked around the building toward the office.

Zack’s truck was still sitting in the parking lot.

I stood out there for a while to make sure he wasn’t around. When I didn’t see him, I figured he’d gone inside to argue with Caroline.

That was fine with me.

I went around back and climbed over the tailgate into the bed of the truck then knelt in front of the red metal toolbox. I opened the latch. I didn’t know what Zack kept inside, but I was sure I’d find something I could use.

I was right.

When I opened the lid, the first thing I saw was a black claw hammer. I grabbed it then shuffled around and found a heavy screwdriver. I set them both beside me then shut the toolbox and climbed out of the truck.

When I got back to the room I showed Sara the tools.

“Where did you get those?”

I told her and she frowned.

“I’ll return them when we’re finished,” I said. “Unless you want to pull those springs out by hand.”

She didn’t say anything else.

We pulled the box spring off the frame and I used the hammer to bust out three of the wood slats in the middle. The springs underneath were rusted, and several of them came loose without a fight.

Others took some work, but eventually we’d cleared out enough space for the suitcase.

“Try it,” I said.

We moved the box spring back to the frame then slid the suitcase into the center. It dropped in perfectly.

There was still some room along the sides, so we filled it with the broken wood and rusted springs. When we finished, we slid the mattress back in place.

No one would be able to tell.

Sara smiled. “I told you it’d work.”

She was right, and I told her so.

Then I kissed her.

Once the room was clean, I grabbed the tools then went outside and walked down to the office. I stood against the building and smoked two cigarettes before I was sure no one was around, then I crossed into the parking lot and climbed into the back of the truck.

There were footprints around the toolbox.

For a second I felt my stomach twist, then I realized they were my footprints from before. I shook my head then opened the latch and put the tools back inside.

When I got back to the room I told Sara.

She didn’t seem to care.

I asked her if she was okay.

She looked at me. “I think we should go see Syl.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll look weird if we don’t.”

“I don’t think you want to see him,” I said. “He’s in bad shape. You might—”

“I’ll be fine.”

She leaned over and grabbed her shoes off the floor and put them on, then she looked around for her coat.

I didn’t move.

When she noticed, she said, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sara made a dismissive sound, short and soft. “No, I’m not okay. Not at all.”

“You still want to see him?”

“I can handle it.”

Sara found her coat. She slid it over her shoulders then sat next to me on the bed. “Are you coming with me?”

I reached for her hand. She didn’t want to give it to me at first, but in the end, she did.

“I’m sorry about this,” I said. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted, and I didn’t think—”

She pulled her hand away and stood up. “That doesn’t matter, not anymore.”

“It does matter. I never would’ve—”

“Nate.” Sara stopped me. “We’ve got two choices. We can come clean, or we can keep going and hope for the best.”

“What do you want?”

She hesitated. “We’re in too deep to come clean.”

Hearing her say it thrilled me, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Sara looked away. “If we do, it’ll be a first.”

22

We left our room and crossed the parking lot toward the office. The sky outside had turned heavy and there was a cold wind coming in from the north. Thin wisps of snow spun around us as we walked. I tried to stay focused and tell Sara what to expect when she saw Syl, but all I could think of was the coming storm.

“You’re worried about this, aren’t you?”

I lied and told her I was fine.

“You think I won’t be able to handle it.”

“I just want you to be ready.”

“I’m ready,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

So, I didn’t.

Zack’s truck was still sitting out front when we got to the main building. We walked past it, then I opened the office door and motioned toward the dining room.

Sara went in first and I followed.

Megan was standing along the far wall, staring out the window. Caroline was sitting on the floor next to the fireplace. She had a stack of paper in her hand.

They both turned when we walked in.

Caroline waved us over then pushed herself up.

As we got closer, I saw Syl lying in front of the fireplace, cocooned in several yellow blankets. His face, a polished purple, was the only part of him not covered.

He looked worse than I remembered.

When Sara saw him she stopped and made a short gasping sound. I reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

“I’m fine.”

“Frostbite,” Caroline said. “It does nasty things.” She held her hand out to Sara and introduced herself. “I’m happy you’re feeling better. I heard you had a bad night.”

“Just a long one,” Sara said. “Thanks.”

Caroline introduced Megan then we all sat at the table next to the fireplace.

Caroline dropped the stack of papers on the table and said, “I was reading him some of Marcus’s poems, but I don’t think he can hear me.”

“It can’t hurt to try,” Sara said.

Caroline smiled. “No, honey, it sure can’t.”

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Marcus is back at our room, sleeping, I’m sure. Butch and Zack are off somewhere, so it’s just the two of us.” Caroline paused. “Well, three of us.”

“How’s he doing?” I asked.

“He needs to get to a hospital,” Caroline said. “But apparently that’s not going to happen.”

I ignored the angry tone in her voice and said, “Do you think he’s going to die?”

“You’ll have to ask her.” Caroline pointed to Megan. “She’s the doctor.”

“Doctor?”

“Not a doctor,” Megan said. “Just a student.”

“He looks terrible.”

Megan nodded. “If he does survive this, he’ll probably lose his nose and several of his fingers.” She looked at him and shook her head. “Caroline’s right. We need to get him to a hospital.”

“Any news on the snowplows?” I asked.

“We haven’t heard anything.”

I told them how the sky looked on our way over and that I thought another storm was on the way. They listened, and for a while no one said anything, then Megan took a cell phone out of her pocket and flipped it open.

“You have a phone?”

Megan nodded. “Don’t get too excited. There’s no signal out here. I’ve been trying all night, and now my battery is almost dead.”

I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or not. I looked over at Sara. She was staring at Syl.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I didn’t think he’d be this bad.”

“He’s also lost a lot of blood,” Megan said. “Between that and spending the night in the storm, it’s amazing he’s alive.” She flipped her phone closed and dropped it on the table. “Still no signal.”

“Has he said anything?”

“Nothing that makes sense,” Caroline said. “He mentioned something earlier about a woman named Lilith, but that was it.”

“He’ll wake up and say a few words then he’ll drop out again,” Megan said. “Actually, that’s a good sign.”

I felt my stomach cramp and I knew I had to get up. I stood and walked toward the fireplace and knelt next to Syl. His eyes were closed, and his skin was dotted with white blisters. I could hear the low rattle of his breathing. It sounded slow and thin.

I stayed there for a while, half listening to the conversation at the table behind me, then I saw Megan stand and come sit next to me. She put her fingers against his neck and didn’t speak.

When she took them away I said, “Did you get a pulse?”

“Strong and steady,” she said. “He’s a tough one.”

She unwrapped the blanket and looked at the bandage on his side. It was clean and new, but when she peeled back the corner, the skin underneath was black and smelled warm and fleshy, like rotted meat.

I made a noise and turned away.

“He’s infecting,” Megan said. “That’s the problem. I don’t think he has much time left.”

I didn’t say anything.

She replaced the bandage then looked at me and said, “Did you two see anything last night when you drove in?”

“Like what?”

“A car along the side of the road? Someone walking?”

“I barely saw this place,” I said. “I almost drove past it.”

Megan nodded then looked away.

Behind me, Caroline called my name.

I turned around.

“Are you much of a reader?”

“No,” I said. “Not really.”

She nodded, slow, like it wasn’t a surprise. “I’ve been thinking a lot about those old mystery novels. You probably don’t know them, but they always start with a group of strangers thrown together around a dead body, usually in a secluded old mansion or on a remote island somewhere.”

“Or in a motel during a blizzard,” Megan said.

“That’s right,” Caroline said. “And I’ve been thinking about how strange it is to be in one of those situations in real life.” She motioned to Syl. “Of course, we don’t have a body, but we do have this poor man who we barely know anything about.”

I didn’t catch it at first, then I did.

“Barely know anything?” I asked. “We don’t know anything about him, do we?”

Caroline pointed past me to a stack of mud-streaked clothes sitting on one of the tables.

“His wallet,” she said. “There’s not much to go on, but it certainly raises some interesting questions. Have a look.”

I got up and walked across the room toward Syl’s clothes on the table. They were folded and stacked and still wet from the snow. Several lines of water ran off them and dripped onto the floor. Syl’s money clip, thick with cash, was sitting next to a cheap metal watch and a black billfold.

I picked up the billfold and flipped it open to a laminated ID and a clean, gold badge.

For a second, I forgot to breathe.

The ID said his name was Sylvester White, and that he was a detective with the Chicago Police. The photo was an older one. It showed a younger Syl in uniform, straight and smiling against a pale blue wall.

I stared at it for a long time.

I heard Sara slide her chair away from the table and cross the room to where I was standing. I didn’t want her to see the badge, but I didn’t have a choice.

To her credit, she didn’t react at all.

“So far,” Caroline said, “we know he’s from Chicago and he’s a police detective and that someone out there shot him.” She paused. “Everything else is a mystery.”