Heart of Ice Page 10

Chapter 7

  Ice's hands were buried in his soapy hair when his phone rang. "Of course," he grumbled, poking his head under the hot spray of water and letting it rinse his hands and face. He quickly blotted his fingers on a towel before reaching for the phone. He'd left it in reach knowing somewhere it'd been decreed that if you were in the shower, the phone would ring.

  As he'd expected, the call was from Nik. "Ice, are you up?"

  "I'm in the shower."

  "Oh. Well, good. I've got a lot to catch you up on. I'll pick you up about ten-thirty?"

  "Sure."

  "See you then."

  Ice pulled the shower curtain closed, wishing he'd been able to talk. Nik sounded intent—and slightly eager—as if something was about to happen. He knew the medicine man society met yesterday, but got the impression his mentor had more news than what had happened at the meeting of the Midewiwin.

  His mom's robed form appeared in the hallway as Ice stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing his head with a towel. "It's Saturday," she said, bleary eyed. "What're you doing up and about?"

  "Medicine man business. Besides, it's after nine." Ice crooked an eyebrow at her.

  "Said the boy who doesn't move until at least ten o'clock on the weekends." His mom's tone was sarcastic, and she pursed her lips doubtfully, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  Ice shrugged. "I guess I had a lot on my mind when I woke up. I couldn't go back to sleep."

  His mom examined him with a measured look. "Mmm. You'll have to tell me all about the dance over breakfast."

  "I'm going to get dressed," Ice said and slid past her.

  She sighed over-dramatically. "I'll go make some coffee."

  It wasn't long before the enticing aroma of coffee and cooking meat made it down the hall and drew Ice into the kitchen. "Nik's picking me up at ten-thirty," he announced as he poured himself a mug of the steaming brew.

  "How's your ankle?" his mom asked.

  "Not too bad. It hurts if I put weight on it for an extended amount of time, but I barely notice it when I walk."

  "That's good. I certainly hope you're not doing anything dangerous today," she said flatly, lifting the skillet she was tending off the flame and shaking it forward and back. The sausages in the pan rolled, sputtering.

  "Actually, Nik didn't say." Ice sipped his coffee.

  His mom gave him a direct, pointed look, but she didn't say anything further. With her attention back on the sausages she asked, "Waffles or pancakes?"

  Content to eat oatmeal or something healthy every other day of the week, Ice's mom loved to have 'real' breakfast food on weekends. "Waffles," Ice answered. Occasionally, he made himself pancakes, but he only had waffles when his mom made them. Using a recipe from her mother, Ice's mom actually made the batter from scratch, folding in egg whites at the end. The waffles were perfect, light and crispy, and Ice had long ago vetoed any kind of frozen premade waffle.

  "Watch these for me?" She gestured at the pan of sausages. Without waiting for an answer, his mom left the stove and began gathering ingredients.

  Ice rummaged in a drawer for a pair of tongs. He wasn't going to chance rolling the sausages onto the floor.

  "So, how was the dance?" His mom had to raise her voice over the humming of the mixer.

  "Good."

  "Gonna need a little more than that," she chided, turning the mixer off and scraping the batter into a large bowl. "How'd things go with Dale?"

  Ice plucked the sausages from the skillet and set them on a paper towel covered plate. "He was okay. Didn't say much." He'd learned nothing more from Dale on the ride home. As soon as Ice brought up Nesbitt, the other boy clammed up.

  "And Lynn?" She poured egg whites into the bowl and turned the mixer on, stepping closer to Ice.

  He sipped his coffee. "We had a good time. We danced. We ate at the Lakeside Diner after."

  "Do you want to see her again?" Satisfied with the stiff peaks of whipped egg white on her spatula, his mom plopped a large scoop on top of the batter and began folding it in.

  Ice got out the waffle iron and plugged it in. He'd asked himself the same thing last night as he texted with Lynn after he got home. She'd talked about doing something tonight. Ice told her he'd get back with her. When he put his phone down to go to sleep and tried to invoke a feeling of contentment by remembering Lynn in his arms, his efforts fell flat. Instead he'd felt disconcerted. "Sure, yeah," he answered his mom.

  "You don't sound too excited about it."

  "It was one dance, Mom. I don't know how much I like her yet." That was the truth, he thought. He had some confused, mixed emotions and he wasn't sure why. Lynn was pretty, nice, and fun, and she was clearly attracted to him, so why did he feel so wishy-washy?

  The last of the egg whites went into the batter bowl. His mom smiled over her shoulder. "All right, I suppose that makes sense."

  As they sat down to eat, Ice asked about his mom's job—she managed the IT group at a shipping company—and was able to keep their conversation away from the dance and his work with Nik. He had one bite of waffle left when he heard the beep from out front, so he stuffed it in his mouth, chewing as he dropped his plate into the dishwasher. Then he kissed his mom on the cheek. "See you later. Thanks for breakfast."

  "Let me know where you're going when you find out," she called as he grabbed his jacket. "And be careful."

  Ice hunched against the cold and pulled the zipper of his jacket all the way to his chin. He scowled at the overcast sky, hoping it wasn't going to snow again, then climbed gratefully into the already-warm cab of Nik's pick-up truck. "So what's up?" he asked, clicking the seat belt into place.

  "A lot." Nik paused for a passing car and then backed from the driveway. "We're headed to the police station."

  "In Park Rapids? Did they find Nesbitt?"

  "No. And no. They do, however, believe Nesbitt is in the area—he attacked someone."

  "What?" Ice turned in his seat to stare at the medicine man.

  Nik nodded. "Early this morning a neighbor called to report an intruder on Nesbitt's property here in Cass Lake. She hadn't seen him return and his car wasn't in the driveway, but she was sure she saw someone in his house. The police told her to stay inside, that they'd be right out. Apparently she decided to investigate anyway. It cost her half a leg."

  Ice sucked in a breath.

  Nik cast a troubled glance in his direction."When the police arrived," he continued, "they found her unconscious behind Nesbitt's garage, her leg cut off at the knee."

  "Oh my God," Ice stammered, thinking how close he'd come to the same fate.

  "If there's a positive side to any of this, it's that the crime falls under the jurisdiction of the Leech Lake Tribal Police. I told them about our visit to Park Rapids, giving them a first-hand account of Nesbitt's condition and the way he came after you. They're convinced the Windigo curse is a viable theory."

  Ice swallowed, pushing the imagery out of his mind. "So the woman identified Nesbitt?" When the medicine man nodded, Ice posed his next question. "So if you've already talked to them, why are we going to the station now?"

  "Because they understand we need to know how he became cursed." Nik rolled to a stop at a red light and turned his head toward his apprentice. "They've brought in a few of Nesbitt's colleagues on the guise of trying to locate him; they want us to question them as well."

  Ice blinked. "Wow." This was nowhere close to what he imagined he'd be doing today. Then he remembered his mom's words as he left and took out his phone to send her a text. He let her know they were stopping at the police station to discuss the guy who set the trap in the woods.

  When he looked up, Nik was slowing as he passed the attractive wood and stone building that was the Leech Lake Tribal Police Department. The medicine man swung the truck into the parking lot and pulled into a space. Upon entering the building, a woman in police blues waved from the glassed-in area behind the reception desk. "They're here for me," she announced to the
officer manning the desk. Ice didn't recognize her, but clearly she knew Nik. Her dark hair was twisted into a bun and she wore very little make-up on her brown eyes. "Thanks for coming," she said, pressing her thumb to a wall-mounted button. When a buzz sounded, she swung open a door and ushered them inside.

  "This is my apprentice, Ice," Nik said as they proceeded down a hallway. "Officer Rondele." He looked at Ice and gestured to the woman's back.

  She looked over her shoulder. "Hello, Ice."

  "Nice to meet you," he murmured automatically.

  Officer Rondele stopped outside a closed door. "Generally we go out to question people, but because we wanted to interview all of the high school staff members, they agreed it was a better idea that they come here. High school has enough of its own drama without the police showing up." She caught Ice's eye. "True?" she laughed.

  "Yes," he replied, smiling.

  "As far as the high school staff knows," she continued. "Nesbitt was suspended for sexual harassment and then disappeared before the charge could be properly investigated. They're not aware we're looking for him for any other reason. We narrowed down the group of staff to four people who knew Nesbitt the best. I don't know if you'll learn anything new, but you're more informed about this… condition than we are. Would you like to talk to all of them at once? Or one by one?"

  "We'll start with all of them and take it from there," Nik replied.

  "Okay," the officer continued, but Ice missed the rest of her sentence because his phone chimed from his pocket. He hastily pulled it out clicked it to vibrate only. A brief glimpse of the screen informed him the text was from Lynn. He was fairly sure he saw the words "movies" and "tonight." Anxiety instantly fluttered to life in his stomach.

  Then Officer Rondele swung the door open and he tucked the phone away. The conversation with Lynn would have to wait.

  The aroma of coffee lingered in the small room, and Ice noticed Styrofoam cups in front of three of the four people. They'd been talking amongst themselves but looked up expectantly when Officer Rondele stepped inside. After making introductions, she left Nik and Ice alone with the four staff members.

  After a few general questions, Nik excused all but one woman, Mrs. Whitman, who seemed to be Mr. Nesbitt's closest friend at Cass Lake High. Mrs. Whitman taught chemistry as well as one physics class so she regularly discussed department curriculum with Nesbitt. It also sounded as if they'd bonded over their mutual love of science in general. Ice thought she seemed mostly calm and relaxed, although a crease of concern lined the space between her eyebrows.

  "Before Mr. Nesbitt was suspended, were you aware of him having problems with any of his students? Any one-on-one altercations?"

  "Believe me, we all have altercations with our students," she said, giving Nik a reproachful look. "Generally on a weekly basis, as I told the officer. The Wednesday before his suspension, Harrison gave his students a test. The overall scores were low; some of the kids complained that he hadn't taught everything he'd tested them on. They even went to the principal about it. But these things fizzle out. Kids move on to the next drama fairly quickly." Her brow knit with confusion. "Why? You think one of his students… did something to him?"

  Nik smiled. "We're just trying to get an idea of his state of mind when the incident happened." He pursed his lips, thinking. "Okay, let's try a different direction—changes. Including the most subtle changes; things that may not have occurred to you as they happened, but hopefully they'll come to mind now." When she nodded, he continued. "Had Mr. Nesbitt taken interest in a new hobby? Or something where he might meet new people?"

  She considered the question, then shook her head. "Not that he mentioned to me."

  "Was he dating? Or using an online dating site?"

  She made a face. "Highly doubtful. He didn't seem to want anything to do with women. He claimed I was the only reasonable woman he'd ever met." She chuckled. "I don't think he ever thought of me as anything but a colleague."

  Ice thought he might have detected a hint of bitterness in her voice, but then he also watched a lot of detective shows. The questioning—directed toward new people in Nesbitt's life—went nowhere, so again, Nik shifted gears.

  "How about personal habits? Did he seem to be eating normally?"

  Mrs. Whitman snorted. "If by normally you mean dieting, yes. Harrison tried every new diet that came along, Atkins, South Beach, Weight Watchers… You name it; he's tried it."

  "Was he losing weight?"

  She cocked her head to the side. "Yes and no. He'd lose weight and then gain it back. He was so caught up in the vicious circle of dieting that he'd started dreaming about food."

  Nik narrowed his eyes. "What kind of dreams?"

  "I don't know." She threw her hands up. "Food dreams. He didn't go into detail." Her arms collapsed into her lap, then she suddenly sat up straight and leaned forward. "Wait. He did tell me about one, because he had it more than once. He dreamed someone was offering him food, which he would refuse. The odd thing, he said, was that he truly didn't want the food—as if he knew something was wrong with it, like it was poisoned or something."

  Ice watched as Nik's posture became rigid, although the medicine man kept his face carefully impassive. "This was recent?"

  "Yes, just before his suspension." Mrs. Whitman frowned.

  "But as far as you know, he refused the food?"

  "How can this possibly be relevant?" she asked, huffing out a breath with a shake of her head.

  "Ma'am, as Officer Rondele explained, I'm a medicine man. In my line of work, dreams are often relevant," Nik explained kindly. "Do you know the answer to the question?"

  She blinked. "No." Her voice was hushed. "I don't know for sure. But I suggested that maybe if he ate the food, his dream would go away. Is that bad?" Concern furrowed her brow.

  "I assure you, Mrs. Whitman," Nik said sincerely. "Whatever happened to Mr. Nesbitt was not your fault."