His Frozen Heart (12 page)

I had just finished the sidewalk and
started on the steps when I felt someone’s eyes boring into me. I
turned around quickly to find Dave staring at me. He wore a light
leather jacket, his signature scuffed up motorcycle boots, and the
blue jeans I had given him a week ago. When I realized it was Dave
and not some deranged freak leering at me, I asked, “Hey. How was
Christmas?”

He shrugged his shoulders but didn’t
answer. Grappling for something to say, I commented, “The jeans
look great.” I was wearing a winter coat, faux fur lined gloves, a
hat and a scarf, while he stood there in a jacket with his hands
shoved in his pockets. Did he not own gloves or a hat?

He prodded some snow with the tip of
his boot, and quietly offered, “Thanks.” It didn’t roll off of his
lips, and it occurred to me that he didn’t have much cause to use
the word. It didn’t seem like he had poor manners, but the more I
knew about him, the less I thought he had much to be thankful
for.

The temperature was dropping fast, and
I’d already been out for at least thirty minutes. I was beginning
to feel the cold tingles in my fingers and toes, right before the
numbness set in. Now was a perfect time for a break. “Hey, you
wanna come inside? I could use some hot chocolate and
toast.”

Dave shook his head. Remembering the
woman at his house, I couldn’t imagine why he’d be in a hurry to go
back there. “I’m not taking no for an answer. C’mon, I’m
freezing.”

I turned my back on him and marched up
the steps that were still covered in snow. I would go back out and
finish the steps after he left. When I got into our entryway, I
held the door open for him to follow. He hadn’t budged an inch from
his spot on the sidewalk.

Almost daring him I said, “You got
something against hot chocolate?" A slight smirk showed on his face
when Dave reluctantly followed me into the house. I walked into the
kitchen and dumped a packet of instant cocoa into a mug, and put
the cup under the Keurig machine, dispensing the hot water.
Stirring quickly, I handed the cup to him. I made mine and then
threw some toast in the toaster. He didn’t say anything, but I saw
his bright red fingers wrap themselves around the steaming
mug.

“
I like my toast with just
butter on it, but we have jelly and peanut butter if you
want.”

He shook his head. I wasn’t sure what
he had just said “no” to, so I pulled out all the toast toppings
and put them on the table.

His house was over two miles from
mine. I was sure he didn’t have a car, so he must have been
freezing. Dave devoured four pieces of buttered toast, the mug of
chocolate bliss, and seemed to be stealing glances around the
kitchen. He was content with the silence, but it sort of creeped me
out.

About the time I could feel my toes
again, Dave surprised me with a question. “What color?”

What color? I stared at him clueless
as to what he wanted. I’d heard him speak less than ten words up
until now, and I was beginning to question if he were capable of
regular conversation. I was grateful for his help with my car, and
no matter how bad his personal skills were – I owed him. “What do
you mean, what color?”

“
Kravitz wants to know what
color for your Chevelle.”

I was stunned, “You’re painting my
car?” Dave gave me his signature shoulder shrug, but didn’t answer.
“Wait, you’re taking Auto-Body Repair next semester?”

He nodded.

“
Um, I’m just glad it’s
running. The rust doesn’t really bother me.”

His eyes fixed on mine briefly, as if
I’d stolen a prized toy. “I can’t use your car?” Dave had made eye
contact with me for the first time ever. His eyes were a deep
brown, not a pretty brown like a chestnut, but a dark walnut,
almost swallowing his pupil. I couldn’t place his expression – it
looked like a cross between frustration and, I don’t know, –
anger?

“
I never said that. I mean,
I would really appreciate it if you could paint it. How much will
it cost?” I had tanked every bit of my babysitting money for the
car, the parts it needed last semester, and Christmas gifts.
However, I’d found an awesome website that the rich people in town
used to find short-notice babysitters – I could maybe find some
more jobs before Christmas break was over.

“
Body-repair isn’t much
unless we have to replace a bumper or something. Yours are fine.
Maybe a hundred dollars for chrome from the salvage yard and the
primer and paint.”

This was too good to be true. I didn’t
know whether the shock on my face was from the second incredible
bargain, or the fact that he’d said more to me in the last thirty
seconds than he had in the previous four months. “Uh, okay. What
color do you think would be good?”

“
Original was maroon. I’d
keep it the same.”

In my mind I had envisioned a canary
yellow with black interior – I knew I’d seen one like that in a hot
rod magazine, but making those kinds of changes to the interior
would be way more than a hundred dollars.

“
Okay. When do I bring in
the money?”

“
First day. Kravitz is
expecting it.” Without another word, he stood up from our kitchen
table, pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and began
walking to the entryway.

“
Wait!” I couldn’t let him
go back out dressed like that. It was too cold. He gave me a weird
look, but I held up a finger, “Just give me a minute. Don’t go
anywhere.”

I ran to the mud room by the back door
where there were more boots, mittens, gloves, hats, and scarves
than Wal-Mart. I grabbed a black ski cap, a black sweatshirt, and a
pair of black leather gloves, then sprinted back to where he waited
by the front door.

Handing them over, “Here, it’s
freezing out there.”

His eyes narrowed on me, “I’m not a
charity case.” To think just a few hours ago I’d never seen his
eyes, now I had the privilege of them glaring at me.

“
I didn’t think you were.
Friends help each other out. Just say thank-you.”

Dave cocked his head to the side as if
studying me. I added, “It’s dropped twenty degrees in the last
hour. It’s not as warm now as when you left your house. Take them,
you can give them back if you don’t want to keep them.”

He shook his head as if he intended to
turn me down, but I grabbed his shoulder and said, “Look, if you’re
going to do the body work on my car, I’m pretty sure you’re going
to need all your fingers. Just take them.” I forced the pile of
winter attire at him and walked back to the kitchen.

Half an hour later when I bundled up
to go outside to finish removing the snow from the steps, they had
already been shoveled, and someone had put salt down to stave off
any ice that might try to appear overnight. I started to find Dad
to thank him when it hit me that Dad hadn’t left his home office
all afternoon.

A warm glow sparked inside me. Dave
must have done it before he left. We still weren’t friends, but
this was what put us on the path to being more than
acquaintances.

Chapter 8

The air from my car’s vent was blazing
as I stopped reminiscing about Dave in high school. Mr. Sanders was
watching me from inside the store. I gave him a friendly wave as I
eased my car out of the parking lot. I rested my wounded hand on
the top of the steering wheel, using my good hand to shift and to
drive. As soon as I turned onto the main street, the frigid outside
air took my breath away, blowing straight at me through the hole in
my windshield. The car’s heater was doing the best that it could,
but my feet were in hell while I worried an icicle was forming on
my nose. I had to scrunch down to try to see through the glass
under the hole. To top it off, the sun was glaring through the
cracks around the hole, making it almost impossible to
see.

Ten minutes later I pulled up outside
Bodies by Brewer to see several sweet classic muscle cars parked in
front, peeking out from the piles of snow around them. The
two-story building was made of cinder block. I couldn’t guess how
many times the blocks had been painted over, but the top coat was
gray and was desperately trying to separate itself from the
building. Two large roll-up doors staring at the street were
closed. The sidewalk in front of the shop had been shoveled after
the last snow storm, revealing cracks running its length. Large
naked maple trees stood on either side of the building. A retaining
wall was crumbling behind the building. The place reminded me of a
scene from a Tim Burton movie.

I had a clear view from my car of the
door on the front of the building. The door had been painted the
same Navy Warship Gray as the rest of the building with a single
small window in its center. A closed blind blocked my view into the
shop through the glass, but a sign hung in front of the blind
indicating the place was open. Other than the glass in the door,
the building didn’t have any windows on the first floor. It was
just after 8 AM, but the place looked locked-up tight. Someone may
have forgotten to turn the sign around before closing last
night.

I started to have second thoughts
about being here alone. No one knew I was here, and Kendra hadn’t
been embellishing anything. It felt like I should be wearing a
bullet-proof vest if I were going to leave the safety of my car.
Trash cans lined the curbs, several of them knocked over and in the
street. A vacant building stood directly across from the garage;
from the weathered paint on the door, it used to be a drycleaner. A
large window to the right of its door was boarded up with a “keep
out” sign in the corner. Bushes and trees sprinkled throughout the
neighborhood were overgrown, and several of the sidewalks hadn’t
been shoveled all season. Junker cars seemed to be collecting in
one driveway several addresses down from the garage, and I couldn’t
help but notice many of the nearby homes sported bars on their
windows. Our neighborhood wasn’t the high-rent district by a long
shot, but compared to this place, we were living on
Boardwalk.

I thought of Libby’s still body in a
hospital room right now. She had been attacked in our home. The
weight of what I was about to do crashed in on me – I needed to ask
Dave how I could find the predator who had attacked Libby, left her
for dead, and then came after me last night. Dave and I had never
been that close, and despite my attempts to befriend him in high
school – he remained a near stranger. A lot could happen in two
years – he could have gone from an angry lonely teenager to a
killer. He might even have been the one responsible for what
happened to Libby.

Dave had seemed happy to
see me at Bank Shot yesterday evening. It was strange that he had
wanted me to call him
Mark
, and he had seemed so charming
and charismatic compared to the boy I had known. He had told Teddy
to respect Libby, and it was obvious the two of them knew each
other. It hit me in that moment – after Libby and I left, he could
have been the one to tell Teddy where we lived – or at least where
I lived. I’d seen it on television lots of times: without making a
scene in public, the criminals find their mark, follow them home
and attack.

Had Dave had a hand in what happened
last night?

I sat in the warmth of my car, trying
to decide what to do. I could just give the police Dave’s name and
address. They were investigating. A flash of Libby in her hospital
bed shot through my mind. Investigating may be the police’s job,
but the Dave I knew would never have been mixed up in anything like
what happened last night. Remembering how shy he was, if the police
did come to ask him questions, he might shut down and tell them
nothing.

“
Don’t be a baby, Candy.” I
told myself aloud as I eased out of my car, as if the sound of my
voice could calm all the crazy thoughts shooting through my head. A
few feet from the gray door, I stopped and noticed there had been
no traffic on the street and no passersby since I arrived. If
anything happened to me inside, there would be no one to hear my
cries for help. This was a bad idea.

I should just call the
police and tell them I remembered seeing Dave at the bar,
and
he
knew Teddy.
They could ask him what he knew. Doing this on my own, I might end
up sharing a room with Libby at the hospital, which wouldn’t do
either one of us any good.

Sprinting back to my car, I reached
for my car’s door handle when I heard a voice call from inside the
shop through the open front door, “Candy? Candy, is that
you?”

I stood frozen behind my car. Crap.
“Um, yeah. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi. It
looked like you weren’t open.”

“
Naw, I’m open, come on in.
I just unlocked the door.”

Great, now if I didn’t go inside, what
would he think? My hand rested on the cold door handle as thoughts
assaulted my mind. Did he tell Teddy where I lived? Did he know the
guy who tried to shoot me last night? Were they friends?
Self-preservation took control of me, “Maybe some other time. I
just remembered I have to be somewhere.”

A disappointed look shown on his face,
“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Forever? He saw me last night. Maybe
he didn’t count seeing me when he was pretending to be some other
guy. My body went on high alert when I remembered how he wanted me
to call him Mark. “Sorry, I’ll come back another time. I need to. .
. go visit a friend – she’s expecting me.”