Where the Ice Falls Page 8

Lacey summoned a smile that felt as shaky as Loreena’s hands. “I’ll do my best for both of you, as long as you do your best to stick around until Dee is ready for you to go.” That was as close as she could come to saying Please don’t kill yourself. She left the two in their separate solitudes and slid between clusters of mourners in the foyer. Snippets of conversation floated past as she headed for the door.

  “I didn’t know you lost someone this year, too.”

  “My son — I haven’t seen him since 2010. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

  “If you need anything else, you know JP and I will do what we can to help.”

  The words rebounded into conscious recognition. Lacey turned, scanning the crowd. Past the shoulders of a family group, Zoe’s face brightened as their eyes connected.

  “There’s someone who might know. Lacey? Lacey, can you come over here, please? This is the woman from Victim Services who helped Lizi and I. Lacey, this is Eric Anders’s father, Brian, and his mother, Leslie. His older brother, Aidan; his younger sister, Clemmie.” She raised a hand toward a shorter man half hidden behind the brother. “And this is Calvin Chan, Eric’s best friend.”

  Lacey uttered her condolences but doubted Eric’s family heard them. The mother wept continuously into what looked like a cloth table napkin as the father gazed over her head into space. Clemmie, who looked about the age of Zoe’s daughter, peered at Lacey through wary brown eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, the wisps around her face held back with a black headband. She looked completely washed out. Eric’s brother, tall and dark-haired, was the only family member who offered Lacey his hand. She shook it reluctantly. Many murders were committed by family members. Did one of these people lock Eric in that shed to freeze to death?

  Aidan started to speak, but Calvin pulled at his sleeve. Aidan clapped him on the shoulder. “Calvin, can you take Clemmie out and bring the car around? I don’t want her out there alone.”

  The girl cast an aggravated look at her brother, but Calvin grabbed the chance. “Yeah, let’s go,” he said in a quick rush of words. He grabbed Clemmie’s coat sleeve and towed her from the room.

  Aidan turned aside to speak to Lacey. “So you’re from Victim Services?”

  “Yes, I’m the volunteer for Zoe and her daughter.”

  “We haven’t heard from our volunteer in a week. Maybe you can help me out. We’re trying to plan my brother’s funeral. The Medical Examiner told us they’re releasing his body on Monday, but nobody has mentioned his personal effects. He always carried his favourite stuff in his backpack, ever since he was a little kid.” His lips tightened. “You can see my mom isn’t doing so well. If we had his backpack, she could pick out something to display at his funeral, you know, to remember the happier times.”

  “That’s a good thought,” Lacey said. “What do you need from me?”

  “Can you find out if we can get his backpack?”

  “I’ll talk to the sergeant at Cochrane in the morning. How can I reach you?”

  Aidan pulled a business card from his pocket. “That’s my cell. Call me during business hours.” He looked beyond her. “Shit. Here’s Calvin already. Don’t let on that I asked about anything. He’s not coping well, either. He’s a computer genius but has zero emotional comprehension.” He hurried to intercept Calvin. Lacey watched him shake Zoe’s hand and steer his weeping mother toward the door. His father followed.

  Zoe came straight over. “I’m so glad you showed up. I was at a loss for how to move them along. It’s like they’re all mired in this little puddle of grief, paddling in smaller and smaller circles until they freeze in place. I’m going nuts enough with all JP’s asking me to do.”

  “You seemed to be managing. How’s Lizi?”

  “Coping. Her half brothers are a great distraction.”

  “What about you? Any nightmares?”

  “I’d have to fall asleep first. What I wouldn’t give for eight hours of real sleep. Even with the odd nightmare.” She added wistfully, half-apologetic, “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

  Zoe’s hands were shaking as she tried to unlock the van, and she dropped the key fob in the snow. As she crouched down to retrieve it, running her gloves through the shadowy space under the running board, she realized tears were freezing on her cheeks. Oh, Mom. Oh God, Mom. The voice whispering into the winter air wasn’t her own. It throbbed inside her head, not like a migraine, but a floating feeling, almost like she’d been smoking pot, something she hadn’t done for twenty years. Brain aneurysm? Tumour? That would explain a lot. She leaned her aching forehead against the van and swept her arm over the icy ruts. Please let her not get stranded here with her sanity leaking out her ears.

  At last, her fingers felt the key ring. She brushed off the snow, pushed the button, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Her brain pulsed with jumbled feelings and images she didn’t recognize, and some she did: Eric’s parents in pain, his siblings in their desolate self-reliance. No wonder Arliss put those kids first. Layered over all those visions were shock, dismay, and a desperate feeling of guilt. So much pain! She laid her head on the steering wheel and wept.

  After a bit, she sat up and groped in her coat pocket for tissues. Why should she feel guilty? She hadn’t caused that family’s grief. Eric had been dead long before she found him. She straightened her shoulders, shifted into reverse, checked the rear-view mirror, and said to the young man staring at her from the back seat, “It isn’t my fault you died.”

  The snow began to fall in earnest as she drove. Signalling for the turn onto Elbow Drive, she looked again in the rear-view mirror and registered the empty seat. Speaking to a ghost hadn’t worked at the chalet, and yet she had just done it, speaking to him as she would to Kai or Ari. Why had she been able to do so here and now, but not earlier? She needed more information about the process. And about Eric’s family, if their presence could bring his ghost forward, where she could communicate with it. The chalet was out of bounds but there were plenty of other places to cross-country ski. She could invite those young people to ski with Kai, Ari, and Lizi.

  Her phone buzzed. More trouble?

  It was a text from Lizi. Can u pick up pizza & wings? Movie marathon with bros. It was so normal, so teenager, that she nearly wept again out of sheer relief. Then she said out loud, in case the ghost was listening, “If you’re going to watch movies around my kids, don’t scare Lizi.”

  Zoe walked into the TV room with a stack of takeout boxes. “Hey, Farscape.”

  Lizi stared at her. “You know Farscape, Mom?”

  As far as Zoe knew, she’d never seen the show before, but the red alien and his tentacled face were familiar, and that purple four-armed thing was, too. How had she known the show’s name?

  Ari took the boxes. “It’s an old fave of Dad’s.”

  Lizi pouted. “He never showed it to me.”

  “You were too young,” said Kai. “You didn’t watch ten entire seasons of Stargate with him, either.”

  Zoe headed off to bed while the brothers filled Lizi in on every sci-fi series they’d watched in the last decade as a bridge between them and their faraway father.

  Nik was already asleep with his phone on his chest. She crawled in beside him, weary to the bone, grateful for his warmth. Ghosts, grief, guilt … all of it could wait until morning.

  Sometime later, Zoe woke shivering.

  Nik pulled her against his chest. “Jeez, you’re freezing. Are you coming down with something? Should I run you a hot bath?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just so cold.”

  Nik got up and tucked the duvet around her tightly. “Stay right there. I’ll get Lizi’s electric blanket.” He left the room, and she heard him rummaging around. “Lizi, where’s your electric blanket? Mom’s sick.”

  But Zoe knew she wasn’t sick. Despite the near-paralyzing cold, she felt calm. Peaceful, like she could drift off again any minute. Suddenly, in the back of her mind, someone was screaming, I
f you fall asleep you’ll die. Get up. Get up. Open the door! Zoe’s eyes flew open. The bedroom door was open. The dream had taken her unawares.

  Nik returned with a cup of hot chamomile tea. “Lizi said to put some booze in it, but you’re better off with honey until we see what we’re dealing with.”

  “I’ll be glad to have something warm inside me.” She pulled the duvet up, and warmth gradually returned to her limbs. “Whatever that chill was, it was temporary.”

  Nik looked at his phone. “Three in the morning. What a time. Like when Lizi had that bad flu. Up all night.”

  Zoe cradled her mug, breathing in the steam. “You were great with her. Taking your turn getting up with her. Lots of guys don’t do that.”

  Nik made a face. “I wasn’t so good with the boys. Too focused on my job, I guess.”

  “Now you have to make up for it with extra time and attention?”

  “Feels like that.” He slid under the duvet, careful not to jiggle her and the tea. “If we can’t find a way to give everyone a ski holiday, I don’t want you stressing. I’ll take them on day trips and let you get on with work. If you don’t mind us being gone during the holidays.”

  Zoe’s heart thrilled at the prospect of days to herself. A good mom should want to spend time with Lizi and the boys, but there was so much work to get done. And this ghost thing must be sorted out. Maybe Nana would have more ideas. She’d call her in the morning.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A lone light came on in the brown-brick split-level. Zoe watched it through the windshield, her hand wrapped around her travel mug. Despite the coffee, she’d dozed off behind the wheel, less an actual sleep than a loop of dazed hallucinations of walking around inside that house: stairs on the left, leading up and down half flights; kitchen straight ahead; living room on the right, a brick fireplace on the far wall. She had no earthly reason to be here, and yet the compulsion to walk up to Eric’s house was so strong that twice, she’d found her hand on the van’s door handle. She remained in the van even after Aidan got into his car and drove away. She couldn’t walk into that house, couldn’t take Eric home to his own bedroom, and yet the pull was constant.

  Next door was the house JP had owned with Arliss until their divorce. Arliss had remained in the split-level, which was white-sided with blue trim. It looked spacious but not fancy; sturdy, not flamboyant. Like Arliss herself. A couple of years later, JP had fallen for the charms of a sylphlike British redhead. Phyl hadn’t by any stretch wrecked his first marriage, but she’d immediately instituted a new regime that saw the children sent to nearby private schools. JP and Phyl had moved into a Mount Royal mansion with marble floors and an elevator, indoor and in-ground pools, and a whole basement level devoted to entertainment for all ages. The children crossed the socio-economic gulf between the two homes on alternate weekends and holidays, gradually losing touch with their best friends from next door. But Arliss remained. Would Eric’s ghost — if it really was Eric’s ghost — transfer to Arliss if given the chance?

  Arliss’s kitchen light had gone on half an hour ago, and sitting in the van was getting Zoe exactly nowhere. She pulled out her phone and cued up the number she had lifted from the phone at home.

  “Hi, it’s Zoe.”

  “Hey, Zoe. I was just about to call you back. If you’re not busy this morning, come over for coffee and tell me how the sale prep is going at TFB.”

  “How soon?”

  “How soon can you be here?”

  “Very.”

  After another scan of the brown-brick house next door, Zoe forced her unwilling feet toward the white house. Inside, it was relatively unchanged: neutral walls and dark furnishings, parquet flooring protected by striped runners. A Christmas tree stood half assembled by the big front window. The layout was the reverse of what she’d imagined — dreamed? — for the house next door.

  Arliss led Zoe to the kitchen, where patio doors looked over the snowy backyard. After pouring their coffee, she started straight in about the sale of the company. “I could fight this as a shareholder, you know, and probably get the kids to side with me.”

  “Will you have enough shares between you?” Zoe asked. JP had assured her the family was fine with him selling now, even though the company would be worth a lot more once oil prices rebounded. Did Arliss want her to stall him until times improved? “Do you have a problem with me working for JP?”

  Arliss eyed her thoughtfully. “Not a problem, exactly. I’m just surprised you didn’t talk to me. You and I remember more of the early years than anyone.” She straightened the napkins and tucked them back into the holder. “Remember when we could write out every gift tag for the families’ Christmas party without once referring to the list? It’s been a long time since I knew an employee’s baby’s name. I hardly ever go there anymore.”

  “Phyl doesn’t, either. Imagine if you both showed up, though.” Zoe sipped her coffee, thinking hard. Arliss could complicate her job immensely if she decided to fight the sale. Setting down the mug, she asked again, “Do you and the kids have enough shares to halt a sale?”

  Arliss sighed. “Not technically. I doubt you remember this, but I got twenty-five percent straight up in my settlement and the kids split twenty percent. Plus there’s ten percent in the employee share program. Between us all we have fifty-five percent, but the employees will mostly vote with JP to get their money out, and of my kids, only TJ’s twenty-one and old enough to vote his own shares. Frannie and Ben’s proxies stayed with JP. I’d have to get them to pressure him, and I really don’t want to drag them into this, make them choose between us. I’m just hoping you can tell me he didn’t set up some lowball deal with a pal that’ll give him back his shares while I lose mine.”

  Ah, the old fire-sale technique: unload the family assets for cents on the dollar, with a buyback guarantee for only one of the parties. Zoe met Arliss’s eyes straight on. “As far as I know, he’s looking for an honest evaluation and intends to call in an outside sales team to manage the process. It should be all above board. Will you be all right for money if TFB goes at market value?”

  “Better than I am now, with no dividends since 2014.” Arliss bared her teeth. “And you’re probably right. Phyl likes money far too much to let JP sell for less than top dollar. I bet he can’t talk to you when she’s around, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “The kids tell me she calls the company their ‘investment.’ She wants her English friends to believe she’s into post-work wealth now. The sale will wait until they get the perfect offer, and JP will twiddle his thumbs while the company sputters along without a leader. Such a comedown for the sort of go-getter he used to be.”

  “That explains the drifting around the office.” Zoe grimaced. “Nobody’s putting in a hundred percent. I thought it was just holiday distraction at first. So you figure there’s no rush?”

  “If he fire sales it,” said Arliss grimly, “I’ll tie him up in court forever to protect my retirement and the kids’ trust funds. I hope you’ll warn me if anything starts to stink.” With that, she seemed to have gotten all the snarkiness out of her system. She topped up their coffees. “You were going to spend Christmas at the ski shack, right? I assume that’s off.”

  “Dragging Lizi back there would be beyond callous. Did you want to use it? Was I stepping on your toes by accepting JP’s offer?”

  Arliss snorted. “God, no. That place, the way it is now, has nothing to do with me. All industrial chic and Jacuzzi tubs. Huh. The kids are afraid to put a foot wrong. Part of the fun in the old days was crowding in together with no TV, no internet — just us and games and good outdoor fun. It’s what made us a family.”

  “I’ve never asked, because … well, I never asked. But why did you and JP split up? Did one of you have someone else?”

  “Nah. We poured all our energy into building up that business, and once it didn’t need me anymore, we had nothing left to talk about.” Her brown eyes flicked over Zoe’s fa
ce, leaving her feeling self-conscious. “You’ve only been back at work a few weeks, and I can tell by those dark circles under your eyes that you need a vacation. What will you do now that you can’t take the family to Black Rock?”

  “I don’t know.” Zoe rubbed her forehead. “Everywhere else is either booked up or too expensive. We can’t afford it on top of the boys’ plane tickets.”

  “And of course JP hasn’t clued in that this whole situation has ruined your holiday.” Arliss glared at a collection of family photos on the wall. “You need good family times to keep everyone anchored. I’ll talk to JP.” She cut short Zoe’s thanks. “Is there anyone at the office who’ll come to Eric’s funeral? I suppose it’s too much to expect of them if JP won’t.”

  “I get the impression the younger staff liked Eric, but Marcia, the acting head of Accounting, told me she’d wanted his internship terminated.”

  “I heard something about that when I was in last month. Apparently, she’d objected to him visiting the office over the Thanksgiving weekend. Interns shouldn’t have an access card, and absolutely shouldn’t go unsupervised — according to her, anyway. JP ignored her. Eric had the run of our house since he was four years old. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our business. But Marcia always was a stickler for rules.”

  “You knew her before she joined TFB?”

  Arliss shrugged. “Not as well as Phyl, obviously, since Phyl got her hired. But enough about that woman. How’d you get on with the Anders family last night?”

  “We went to the Blue Christmas service, but I don’t think it helped. His mother cried and his father stared off into space like he wasn’t even there.”

  “I’m sure the kids were glad to get out of the house, though. It’s been grim. Leslie was a stay-at-home mom for twenty-five years. Eric had leukemia as a preschooler, and she pretty much lived at the hospital with him for months on end. When he vanished, she fell apart completely. The other kids are more self-reliant. They had to learn early, with their dad gone so much for work and their mom at the hospital or fussing over Eric.”