P. Parrish: Heart of Ice

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”

“We still need to talk, Louis.”

He thought about the bones. “Yes, we do.”

“Tell Lily to call me.”

They said their good-byes and Louis hung up.

Lily came out of the bathroom. She was wearing the T-shirt. It hung past her knees and elbows. She just stood there looking around the room.

“You want to watch TV?” Louis asked.

She looked around the room and then back at Louis. There was no television in the room. Louis felt a small panic rising up in him at the thought of having to keep her entertained for the rest of the night. But Lily looked away, toward the partially opened window. It was dark, and the street outside was quiet. Her eyes drifted to Louis. She looked very tired.

“Can I lie down?” she asked.

“Of course you can.”

He got up and pulled the comforter down. She climbed up on the bed, carefully holding her splinted arm. Louis tucked the comforter around her.

“I wish I had Lucy,” she said.

“Lucy will be here tomorrow, I promise.”

She turned away, closing her eyes. Louis went back to his bed and lay down. He wasn’t really tired, and under normal circumstances he’d be searching out the nearest bar right about now. He turned off the light and lay there in the dark, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. From the open window came a cool breeze and the clip-clop of a passing carriage.

He closed his eyes.

He had almost drifted off when he felt something warm at his side and smelled the scent of soap. He stiffened, almost afraid to move, like if he did he could roll over and crush her.

Holding his breath, he turned to his side and gently put his arm over Lily’s back.

There was something about pancakes. Louis remembered whenever he didn’t feel well his foster mother Frances would make him banana nut pancakes. Since he was so thin, she never bothered him about sugar. It was just Eat, you’ll feel better .

Lily was staring at her stack of whipped-cream-topped blueberry pancakes. “Mama says sugar is bad for me.”

“It is, but once in a while a little bit won’t hurt,” Louis said.

Lily picked up her fork and began to eat. Louis sipped his coffee, watching her. She had slept all night with him, waking up before he did to brush her teeth and tie up her hair. After he called down to get their bags she went into the bathroom to dress herself. She emerged wearing a pink sweatshirt and jeans, Lucy in her arms.

He had decided to do his best to make their last day on the island together memorable. The morning had started at the police station, where a big-mitted officer had gently taken Lily’s fingerprints. She watched as Louis was printed and seemed thrilled when the officer gave her a copy of her print card. Next they had stopped at a souvenir shop, where Lily picked out a little ceramic horse with MACKINAC ISLAND stamped on the base. After that it was everything horses-a carriage ride and their pancake lunch here at the Pink Pony to be followed by a trip to the stables to see the horses get baths.

“May I join you?”

Louis had been so intent on watching Lily that he hadn’t seen Chief Flowers approach. Louis gestured to the empty chair, and Flowers sat down, setting a manila folder on the table and filling the air with the scent of Old Spice.

Flowers turned his attention to Lily. “And how are you today, Miss Sunshine?”

Lily held up her right hand, which still had traces of ink on the fingertips. “I got finger-painted,” she said.

Flowers smiled. “And who’s this?” he asked, nodding to the stuffed rabbit on the windowsill.

“That’s Lucy,” Lily said.

Flowers looked to Louis, his hand resting on the manila folder. “You want to know what we found out?” he asked.

“Not really and not here,” Louis said quietly.

Lily looked up. “It’s okay, Louis,” she said. “Did you find out who the bones belong to, Chief Flowers?”

Flowers looked to Louis for permission to answer. Louis nodded, hoping Flowers knew where to draw the line.

“The ring we found was from the Kingswood school,” Flowers said. “That’s the girls’ school of the Cranbrook Academy. You familiar with Cranbrook, Mr. Kincaid?”

“Yeah, high-end private school outside Detroit,” he said.

Flowers opened his folder and handed Louis a close-up photo of the ring next to a ruler for sizing. Louis could see it was a girl’s ring, given its delicacy. The engraving KINGSWOOD and the year 1969 were clearly visible. Then Flowers set a second photo on the table, a close-up of the inside of the band. The initials J.C. were engraved in the gold.

“Did the bones belong to a girl?” Lily asked, rising slightly in her seat to see the photograph.

Flowers glanced at Louis before he looked at Lily. “We’re pretty sure the ring belonged to a girl.”

Lily looked at the chief. “What did she look like?”

“Well, we don’t really know that yet.”

Lily fell quiet, Lucy now in her lap. She didn’t look upset, just curious.

“I called the school,” Flowers said. “They had a student enrolled in 1969 named Julie Chapman who didn’t come back after Christmas break. Her family reported her missing just after New Year’s. I called the Bloomfield Hills police and found out she never turned up. They’re sending their file.”

“Bloomfield Hills,” Louis said. “That’s three hundred miles from here. And why would she be here in the middle of winter?”

Flowers nodded. “Maybe she was abducted,” he said.

Louis reached for his coffee.

“John Norman Collins,” Flowers said. “You remember him? He abducted girls from Michigan and Eastern and left their bodies in the woods and-”

Louis shot him a sharp look as he nodded toward Lily.

“Sorry,” Flowers said.

“Collins was in prison by December of 1969,” Louis said.

Flowers sat back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the window.

Louis set his coffee down. “What did you do with the remains?”

“I sent them to the state lab in Marquette,” Flowers said.

The Marquette lab, located in the Upper Peninsula, was top rate. The last case Louis had worked in Michigan involved bones found on a farm. The techs in Marquette had been able to eventually establish a time and cause of death, even though the bones had been buried for eleven years.

“That was a good move,” Louis said.

Flowers was quiet, his fingers tapping on the folder. “You know, I did a little research on you last night, read some articles in Criminal Pursuits magazine. I also called a friend of mine in Fort Myers. He said you’re really good with the cold stuff.”

Louis glanced at Lily. She was listening closely now but pretending not to.

“I could use a little help with this,” Flowers said.

“Chief, I’m on vacation here,” Louis said. “And I’m not even licensed in Michigan. I thought you called the state police in?”

“I did,” Flowers said.

The tone in Flowers’s voice told Louis that Flowers shared his dislike for the state police. He wondered if it went beyond the usual jurisdictional pissing matches.

Flowers’s eyes suddenly looked past Louis. “Speak of the devil,” he said.

Louis felt a rush of cold air and turned. A tall man in a tan trench coat had just come in the restaurant. His eyes scanned the restaurant with a laser-like proficiency, and when he spotted Flowers he came to the table.

Flowers rose and held out a hand. “Chief Flowers.”

“Detective Norm Rafsky.”

The name was an itch in Louis’s brain, but he couldn’t remember where he had heard it before.

“This is Louis Kincaid,” Flowers said, nodding. “And his daughter, Lily.”