Snow(12)

“Look up,” Fred instructed him.

Eddie Clement looked up. “You a doctor?”

“A veterinarian.”

“I look like a cocker spaniel to you?”

“He’s trying to help you,” Kate interjected. Todd thought she’d been offended by the stranger’s inconsideration.

Fred ignored the comment completely. “Let me see your hands. Palms up.”

Eddie Clement obliged. Todd glanced up in the rearview and caught Eddie staring just past Fred Wilkinson’s head as Fred examined his hands. He was looking, Todd thought, at Nan.

“Where you from, Eddie?” Todd asked him.

“Originally? Baton Rogue.”

“I meant where were you coming from when your car broke down?”

“Oh. Westover Hills.”

“That in Iowa?”

“Oh, sure.”

Something about him is wrong, Todd thought. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is slightly out of whack.

Kate, who must have felt the discomfort as well, turned back around and faced forward. She fished her cell phone from her purse and tried without success to locate a signal.

“It was just you and your daughter in the car, Eddie?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think she would have run off like that?”

“Sometimes she plays games. Just like I said.”

“It’s twenty below out there,” Todd said. “A bit cold for games.”

“Her name’s Emily.”

The rest of them were silent. For one horrible second, Todd was overcome by the feeling that this man was playing with them, toying with them. Like a cat batting around a mouse, just before the final blow.

“There,” said Kate, pointing.

Todd nodded. “I see it.”

Kate’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What the hell?”

It was a car, all right—stranded on the shoulder of the road, just as Eddie had promised. However, had it not been for the driver’s side door sticking straight out into the roadway, Todd would have driven right past it. The whole thing was literally blanketed in snow, causing it to blend almost seamlessly with the packed mounds of snow running along the embankment. Except for the car’s radio antenna, it looked like an igloo.

Todd guided the Cherokee to a stop, then shut down the engine. He winced inwardly at the clunky mechanical whine it made before dying. He could feel Fred’s breath heavy on his neck as the older man leaned forward to stare at the carshaped hillock of snow.

“That your car, Eddie?” Todd asked, leaning over Kate’s lap to grab the flashlight he’d tossed in the glove compartment.

“Oh, sure,” Eddie said coolly from the backseat.

Todd climbed out of the Jeep, his boots crunching on the ice, and slowly approached the open car door. The interior light was dead, so as he crossed around the side of the car he could see nothing inside that narrow, black maw. Again, his mind summoned the image of the dead little girl strewn like a broken doll in the backseat, blood speckling the upholstery. He chased the thought away as quickly as possible, but not before it caused a cool sweat to overtake his entire body. Steeling himself for what he might find, he took a deep breath, then crouched beside the open car door. He clicked on the flashlight and emptied the soft yellow beam into the front seat. He remained like that for some time before rising and turning the flashlight off.

Then he turned and called back to the Cherokee, “Send him out here.”

Fred’s door cracked open and the older man got out. Eddie Clement followed him, wrapped in one of the scarves Todd had also purchased back at the airport. He seemed to be walking somewhat steadier now. Perhaps his muscles had had time to warm up in the Jeep.

Todd crooked a finger at Eddie. “Come here.”

Without a word, Eddie shuffled over to where Todd stood before the open car door, Fred Wilkinson right on his heels. The stranger kept his head down as he closed the distance and only looked up when he’d stopped walking, just two feet from Todd. His eyes simmered like cooling embers.

“Is this really your car?” Todd said.

“I told you that it was.” None of that deliberate elusiveness he’d displayed only a moment ago back in the Jeep. His voice had come out in an approximation of a growl, his head lowered just enough that he peered straight at Todd from beneath the Neanderthal crenellation of his brow.

“This car’s been here for more than an hour, Eddie. More than two hours, if I had to guess by the amount of snow it’s buried under.”

“It snowed hard,” Eddie said, his tone unchanged.

“Not that hard.” Todd clicked the flashlight back on and directed the beam to the steering column. “Where’s the keys?”

Eddie blinked.

“Where’s the keys, Eddie?”

“Ain’t they in the ignition?”

“No.”

Eddie went through the motions of patting down his pockets. Never once did he remove his eyes from Todd. When he slipped his hands back into the pockets of his flannel coat, he rolled his shoulders almost imperceptibly and said, “Guess I lost ’em.”

“How come I don’t see any footprints around the car? Not a single set, Eddie. Not yours, not your daughter’s.”

“Because of the snow,” Eddie said. “I told you about how hard it was coming down, didn’t I?”