Snowed Under, page 11
“And maybe Dev did,” I said. The group went somber and quiet. I raced to clarify my words. “Get killed crossing the street, I mean.” It only seemed to make things worse.
Siobhan rescued me. “Han’s got a point, though,” she said. “It’d be easy to conceal a murder as a ski accident. Easier than trying to hide a body in a snowdrift. Who does that? Do we think Dev suffered a fatal fall while checking the mail? For real?”
We were all on edge from the storm, lack of sleep, and the discovery of Dev’s body. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, Siobhan’s question tickled my funny bone. I wondered what the statistics were on mailbox fatalities. My snort triggered the others and soon we were all laughing uncontrollably, holding our sides.
“Listen up,” called Ed the driver, keeping our mirth from escalating. “Next stop is yours, Tess. After that, Siobhan. Then I’m heading home myself and calling it a night. A nasty night.”
A small pickup sped around us, honking as his lights slewed left to right. The wheels lost traction and nearly clipped the side of the bus. Ed shook his head. “Noah McKane. Must have taken the boy ages to dig out that truck. Now he’s late for something. I’ll be picking him out of a drift any day now.”
The bus motor labored as Ed tried to force it up the incline to drop us at Tess’s front door. We all leaned forward as if that would help. It didn’t.
Ed had done a remarkable job, so far, getting all the passengers tucked into their homes for the night. “I don’t want to turn on the radio tomorrow and hear that someone got lost between the bus stop and their front door,” he said, explaining his abundance of caution. “If we need it, I got a rope we can tie to the door so we can always get back to the mother ship.” He patted the dashboard fondly, as though his coach were an old beloved dog.
I zipped my coat and prepared to disembark. I picked up Belle’s leash and Tess scowled. “You won’t need the leash. She’ll head straight for the house. The road will be icy. She’ll pull and you’ll fall on your head again. No more stitches on my watch.”
I grabbed a support pole as the bus slid suddenly backward in a dizzying skid, ending up perpendicular to the road.
“You’re not going to make it,” Han called to Ed. “Drop us here. Tess and Maggie have skis. I’ll make sure they’re home safe.”
I’d forgotten the skis. We’d stashed them in handy purpose-built holders installed on the outside of the bus. I must have made a skeptical noise, because Belle looked at me over her shoulder with her ears pricked, wagging her tail. Everyone else seemed to have great confidence in Han’s proposal.
Ed straightened out the bus and rolled to a stop in the flat area at the bottom of the road, in front of the imposing gates that marked the entrance to Walter Raleigh’s mansion. He turned to watch as we got ourselves organized for the trek home. “Promise me you’ll stay with Walter if you have any trouble getting up the hill,” Ed said. “I mean it. Last thing my old heart needs is to turn up in the morning only to find frozen people wearing your hats and scarves. In a battle between humans and a Sierra blizzard, the gale always wins.”
We assured him we’d be careful and thanked him for the lift.
“I’ll give you a hand with the boxes,” Siobhan said to Han. “Do you want us to help you get them to Elisabeth’s and the Bailey’s?”
Han looked at Siobhan, who was dead on her feet, and responded with the confidence of youth. “You need to get home and warm. I’ll help Tess and Maggie with the deliveries. We’ll put ’em on sleds. It’ll be quick.” He grabbed two boxes and stepped sure-footed and calm, off the bus into the icy whiteness.
“Stay together,” Ed urged and closed the doors. The engine labored, but the bus pulled away, leaving us in the dark of the bus stop—an area that should have been illuminated by the lone neighborhood streetlight. It flickered feebly every ten seconds or so.
Han glared at it. “It’s always out—doesn’t matter whether the weather is too hot, too cold, too wet, or too dry. Don’t know whether an animal chews on the wires or the conduit’s broken. Either way, it’s a lemon.”
Tess pulled her small flashlight from her pocket. “I’m not sure this will do much more than highlight the snowflakes, but it’s something.” The beam cast a comforting golden glow.
I knew I wasn’t adept enough on cross-country skis to ascend the hill carrying a box and my backpack. Nor could I walk on the slippery ground juggling my skis, poles, and belongings.
“Should we leave the boxes here?” I asked, frowning at the white cardboard boxes Siobhan had unloaded from the bus and placed on a nearby bench that had nearly been submerged in drifted snow.
Tess thrust our skis upright into the drift with the tips pointing upward. “We’ll leave them,” she said. “Once we’ve delivered the boxes to Elisabeth and the Baileys it will be easy to come back and get them.”
Han rummaged in his backpack, pulled out a disk the size of a hockey puck, and slapped it down next to the skis. The disk glowed red, blinking, and emitted an intermittent chirp.
“What in the world?” Tess said.
“Sales guy left them at the store as a sample,” Han explained. “To replace highway safety flares and use as avalanche beacons. Should help us find the skis even if they’re buried in the snow.”
Good idea, I thought. The wind had come up. The temperature had plummeted and was making it difficult to breathe, let alone talk. Siobhan yawned, shivered, and stumbled. We needed to get her home. I tugged my cap down over my ears, pulled my neck gaiter up to protect my mouth and nose, adjusted my goggles, and picked up a box with both hands, struggling to get a secure grip on the awkward-sized box with my mittens.
“Onward,” said Han, trudging away from Walter’s place lugging the other two bakery cartons. Tess took my backpack and whistled up the dogs. “Shuffle your feet,” Tess recommended. “Keep them in touch with the ground. Makes you less likely to slip.”
I shuffled onward, feeling for the first time in my life that I could have used an elderly person’s walker for support. I had no sense of how close we were to our destination. My vision was further hampered by the large box, and I slammed into Han when he came to a stop at his front door.
“Got a kid’s sled in the garage,” he said. “Wait here.”
While we waited, Siobhan thanked us for our help and headed to her home and her bed. She waved her lighted cell phone from her porch to let us know she was safe.
Han returned quickly, pulling an orange molded plastic sled. “The boxes might weigh it down too much, but let’s see.” I was eager to unload my burden and dropped it on the sled, crumpling one corner of the carton. The sled sank into the snow.
“Take these bungies and secure the box,” Han said. “More sleds coming up.”
Tess and I crisscrossed elastic cords over the box, hooking the ends to the sled. When Han returned with two more sleds, we repeated the process and trudged onward at an accelerated speed as we each pulled our loads easily over the snow. At Tess’s we left the dogs inside with fresh kibble and water and picked up a battery-operated lantern along with head lamps that we strapped on over our knit hats. I glanced at Tess and burst into laughter.
“You look like one of those bald yellow henchmen with overalls from that kid’s movie,” I told her. She responded with a stream of gibberish, then handed us each a foil-wrapped chocolate from a bulging pocket in her parka. “For fuel. I stocked up.”
Han unwrapped his chocolate and popped it in his mouth. “Onward, minions,” he shouted, and we set off, with Tess and I taking turns pulling the second sled, since we’d left our own carton behind at her house. First stop, Elisabeth’s. Despite the heavy snowfall, the road was easy to follow, marked by berms of old plowed snow and faint tire marks. Fortified with the chocolate and cheered by the illumination, we made a swift advance. The wind was still brutal, but carried the cheerful smell of a log fire.
Chapter 14
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley.
―Robert Burns, Scottish poet. 1759-1796
Friday, February 19, Afternoon
Elisabeth’s front window glowed with light from the blaze in her hearth. She answered the door draped in a plaid wool blanket. Underneath she sported a puffy down vest and a dazzlingly bright cap knit in an unflattering shade of safety-orange. Duke yapped at her ankles wearing his own wool coat and slippers, struggling to maintain his dignity. I was glad we’d left Belle and Mozart behind. They might have laughed and hurt his feelings.
Elisabeth squinted and tilted her head. I turned off my headlamp. “It’s Tess, Maggie, and Han,” I said, realizing that, wrapped up as we were, there was no way the neighbor would know us by sight, especially with my light shining in her eyes.
“Come in, come in,” she said, picking up Duke and fussing. “What on earth—?”
“We brought you supplies from Flour Power,” Tess said as she detached the bungee cords and lifted the box. “Siobhan sent them. Hot coffee and soup, sandwiches, and cookies.”
“Marvelous,” Elisabeth chirped. “How sweet. And you three delivered it. You must join me for dinner. We’ll have a party.”
Han took the box from Tess. “Point me toward the kitchen.” He strode down the house’s central hallway without waiting for an answer.
“We’d love to stay and chat,” Tess explained, shouting over Duke’s incessant barking. “But it would take us too long to get out of these layers and put them back on. We’ve got a second box for the Baileys.”
“Of course.” Elisabeth clamped a hand gently around Duke’s tiny snout. “And you must get home before it gets any worse.” She glanced round the room. “I’ve some more lanterns. I’ll put them in the windows to help light your way to the Baileys’. That road is dark, even on a beautiful day.”
“Do you need help with anything before we head out?” Han asked.
“Nonsense,” Elisabeth said. “You’ve already done more than enough. I’m spending the evening curled up in front of the fire with Duke. We started an audiobook this afternoon. It’s a thriller. I can’t wait to see how it turns out, but I can’t do that until you get out of here.” She flapped her hand, shooing us off.
Despite her protests, we each carried armful of logs in from her garage and stacked them in front of the fire. But then we made our escape before our clothing became soaked with sweat. Elisabeth ushered us out, warning us to be careful. Before she closed the door, she held up her cellphone. “It’s all charged and I’ve got a backup battery,” she said. “Please call me to tell me you got home safely.”
“Give us at least an hour,” I urged, thinking that would allow us plenty of time to stop at the Baileys and then trudge back up the hill against the wind.
Han grabbed the rope on the remaining sled, though Tess and I both offered to take turns pulling it. I stashed the other one in a snow bank, where we could pick it up on the way back.
Tess passed us more chocolates. “To keep our spirits up,” she said.
Lights winked on in Elisabeth’s windows. We still needed our headlamps, however, in the dark tunnel of trees that flanked the Bailey family’s long driveway. I was unused to the effort required to walk through heavy snow and to the difficulty of exercising in the diminished oxygen at six thousand feet. With less oxygen in my blood, my muscles responded sluggishly to instructions from my brain. I felt even clumsier than usual. Luckily, one of the Baileys had taken the car out recently, or they’d had a visitor. We walked in the tire tracks, grateful for the relative ease of traversing the packed snow.
Ahead, the tunnel of darkness opened onto a scene that looked like a Victorian Christmas card—a peaked-roof two-story home with a broad porch and illuminated windows. I slowed to absorb the comforting image, forgetting for a moment the pain that the Bailey family had been forced to endure.
As we approached the house an explosion rent the silence and the illusion of peaceful comfort. I yelped and my feet shot out from under me. I slid on my back all the way to the Bailey’s front steps, and lay there catching my breath staring up at sword-like icicles that dangled over my head.
Tess glided gracefully to my aid, grabbing hold of the stairway railing with one hand and extending the other to me. “Automated avalanche control,” she said, as additional explosions echoed after the first.
“I knew that.” I pretended unconvincingly, though I remembered Tess identifying similar ground-shaking booms the night before. “Or…I should have known.”
Once I’d reached the safety of the broad covered porch, I patted my arms and legs, taking stock of my injuries. The slick surfaces had provided little friction and my many insulated layers of clothing had cushioned my fall. If I had any bruises, I couldn’t feel them.
The door opened before we could ring the bell, and I realized we’d all been shouting to be heard over the sound of the explosions and the howling wind. We turned off our headlamps, told Leslie who we were under all our camouflaging layers, and stepped into well-lit warmth.
A young woman with cheeks red from windburn or the warmth of the fire sat on the sofa reading to two small children. Snuggled in on either side of her, the kids were nearly obscured by puffy quilts. The younger one sucked his thumb and gripped the ears of a well-loved stuffed bunny. The older one popped out of her blanket cocoon to say hello.
“I’m Naomi,” said the girl I took to be about five years old. She bounced from one foot to the other and tugged on Tess’s hand. “Come in. We’re going to make s’mores.” She pointed toward her brother on the couch. “That’s Harry, the baby. And Amrita. She’s Harry’s nanny. I’m too big for a nanny.”
Leslie Bailey took Naomi’s hand. “Walk sl-o-w-ly to the kitchen and bring back the marshmallow forks.” Naomi pirouetted and bounced down the hall. Leslie let out a sigh. “Sorry,” she said. “The kids have been cooped up too long because of this storm.”
She invited us to sit down and we demurred, saying that we’d only come to drop off the food. Amrita stood. “Put the box in the kitchen please,” she said. “I’ve spent all day putting away casseroles that people have dropped off, but I think there’s still room.” Amrita’s smile lit up her face, but did little to eliminate my shock over what amounted to instructions on what we could do with our gift. No thank you or appreciation was forthcoming. These people are grieving, I told myself. They’re entitled to a few breaches of manners.
Leslie frowned, mirroring my confusion over her young sister-in-law’s behavior. “Amrita, can you get the kids ready for bed? We’ll do the s’mores after so all they need to do before crashing is brush their teeth.”
Amrita sighed and picked up Harry, who I pegged at close to two years old. I smiled at him and he ducked his head into his aunt’s shoulder.
Leslie waved us forward. “Can I get you anything? I’m surprised you ventured out in this storm. What’s the weather like out there? I could run you back in the Jeep.”
Tess unzipped her coat but left it on. “We can’t stay long. The wind is coming up and the temperature’s dropping. I wouldn’t think about trying to get out a car, or even your Jeep, in this weather.”
Han came back from the kitchen. “Is there anything we can do for you before you go? Chores?” An aging black Labrador with a graying snout roused himself from behind the sofa and came forward, tail wagging. He tucked his nose under Han’s hand, and the young man knelt to rub the dog’s floppy ears. “Hey, Winston. You looking after your family here?” Winston wagged his whole body then flopped to the floor and rolled over on his back inviting Han to rub his tummy.
“Vicious watch dog,” I observed.
Leslie laughed. “He’s being brave. Up until you arrived he had his head buried under the couch trying to escape the avalanche explosions. But he knows Han. They’re old friends.”
Han looked up from his attentions to the dog. “Don’t let this act fool you. He’s got a deep scary bark that terrifies anyone who doesn’t know him.”
“He’s been waking us up every night for almost a week, snarling, barking, and pawing at the back door,” Leslie said. “Quinn Petit took a look, but any footprints have been covered by all the recent snow. It could be a human prowler, a bear, or some other predator. So far, though, whoever or whatever it is hasn’t come up on the porch or emerged from the tree line.”
I shivered. I knew from my own experience what it was like to worry that strangers might be watching your house.
Leslie wrapped her sweater more tightly around her too thin body. Her face looked worn and gaunt. Tess gave her a hug and the two of them sat in matching armchairs near the fire. I wanted to give Tess time to express her condolences and offer comfort to her neighbor.
“Those are some massive icicles you’ve got hanging from the eaves out front,” I said. “Would it help if Han and I took some broom handles to knock them down? I imagine it’s hard to do with the kids, and Amrita’s not quite tall enough.”
Leslie sighed. “If you don’t mind, that would be great. They’re dangerous, but I haven’t had time to do it myself, what with, well, you know.” She laughed uncomfortably. “Naomi won’t hold still, so I’m terrified to try to do it while she’s around.”
Han and I excused ourselves to knock down frozen spears that could have injured or impaled a dog or a small child, probably even a full-grown bad guy. One hard whack with the shovel or broom and they fell to the ground with a satisfying crash, sending broken chunks of ice skittering over the frozen pathway.
We each brought in another load of firewood, told Leslie to call if she needed anything, and retraced our steps. With empty sleds and the light of Elisabeth’s lanterns, I expected the trudge home to be easier. I was wrong. Uphill, against the bitter wind, with exhausted legs, our forward momentum slowed to a crawl. As we neared Tess’s, I remembered the skis we had yet to retrieve from the bus stop at the end of the road.
