“Can’t argue with that logic. But just in case he’s not just running off without telling anyone or fooling on us,” Sylvia chimed in, nodding. “We need to stay calm and make a plan.”

  Elaine remained quiet, her gaze sharper than before. Gone was the drunken haze that had clouded her thoughts yesterday.

  “Alright,” Walter conceded, his eyes narrowed. “But we can’t just sit around here doing nothing while Dan’s out there. Every minute we waste talking could be a minute closer to something terrible happening to him.”

  The room fell silent, each of them feeling the weight of Walter’s words. Each person looked down, their expressions a mixture of shame and determination. Hannah took a deep breath. Her mind raced, thoughts swirling like the snow outside. There had to be a way to find Dan without putting anyone else in danger.

  “Wait,” Alma spoke up, her voice wavering slightly. “Last winter, the inn’s phone didn’t work either, but the ones across the lake did. I was stranded at a restaurant on the other side at the time, and we could make calls when the inn’s lines were down.”

  “Alma’s right,” Ernie chimed in. “I have a friend who lives across Lake Intermediate. We could call the police from there, and they could send a search and rescue team.”

  The idea resonated with everyone; several heads nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, then that’s that,” Ernie said, determination in his eyes. “I’ll walk across the frozen lake. We don’t have much time.”

  “Wait,” Hannah cautioned, her voice firm yet kind. “You shouldn’t go alone. A small group would be safer. And to ensure no one gets separated, we can tie rope around ourselves, creating a daisy chain.”

  “Fine, but just a small group. No more than three people. Otherwise, we might be liable to fall through the ice. Some spots are thinner on the ice than others.”

  “Alright,” she said, swallowing her fear. “Ernie’s plan is our best chance. But we have to be careful.”

  “Count me in,” Frank declared, his voice firm. His blue eyes held a steely determination that seemed to defy the storm raging outside.

  “Me too,” Hannah added, surprising herself with her own determination. The fear gnawed at her insides, but she refused to let it hold her back. Regardless of Dan’s temper and his apparent dislike for her, it was her duty as a nurse—and as a human being—to help him.

  Ernie nodded gratefully at Frank and Hannah. An unspoken determination permeated through the room, kindling courage within each person present.

  “We’ll stay here and keep trying the phone, just in case it comes back on. Be careful out there,” Margaret warned. “All of you.”

  As they prepared themselves for the journey, Hannah couldn’t shake the feeling that something larger than a simple accident was unfolding around them. And yet, she knew that finding Dan was the priority right now. With that thought anchoring her, she focused on the task at hand.

  Frank headed upstairs at a run, returning quickly with a long length of rope. The three of them put on their winter gear, then Ernie began tying the length of rope first to himself, then daisy-chained it to Hannah, and finally to Frank.

  “How far is it?”

  “About a hundred feet or so,” Frank said.

  “Everyone ready?” Ernie asked, looking toward Frank and Hannah.

  “Ready,” they both confirmed, echoing each other’s resolve.

  “Good luck,” Beth whispered, her shy gaze flicking between the three of them. Elsie and Klaus, sensing the tension, whined softly by her side.

  “Thanks,” Hannah said, giving her a small, appreciative smile. Then, with a deep breath, she turned to face the door, bracing herself for the frigid winds that would soon batter against them.

  “Let’s go,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the howl of the storm.

  As the door to the inn creaked open, icy gusts of wind invaded the room, stirring up a flurry of snow that seemed to reach for them like ghostly fingers.

  And with that, the trio stepped into the raging blizzard, every step a fight against nature’s fury—and a step closer to unraveling the mystery that awaited them across the frozen lake.

  “Remember,” Ernie said, his voice barely audible above the howling wind, “stay close and keep hold of the rope. We can’t afford to lose each other out there.”

  As they ventured into the storm, the world outside transformed into an unrecognizable landscape of white and gray. The wind tore at their clothes, stinging exposed skin and biting through the layers of clothing they wore. Visibility was near impossible, with swirling snow obscuring everything beyond a few feet.

  Hannah struggled against nature’s steadfast grip with each step into the snowdrifts. The snow, piled high and compacted by the wind, resisted her advance with every fiber of its being. Each step she took required a tremendous effort, as if she were wading through a frozen ocean.

  With each labored stride, Hannah fought against the resistance, her muscles straining and burning with the exertion. The powdery snowflakes whipped and stung at her face, obstructing her vision. She pushed forward, her determination fueling her through the biting cold and the unflagging onslaught of the blizzard.

  Hannah focused on the rope connecting them, feeling it vibrate with tension as they pressed forward. She let herself be guided by the steady presence of Ernie in front of her and the reassuring weight of Frank behind her. Despite her fear, she held onto the belief that they would successfully cross the frozen lake and reach the police via a working telephone.

  The storm raged around them, but their determination remained unyielding. Together, they moved as one, united by a single purpose: to save a life, no matter the cost.

  Hannah’s breath formed icy tendrils in the air as she fought to keep her footing on the treacherous ice. She knew that the deceptive white blanket could conceal the thin patches Ernie had warned them about. She imagined herself lighter, like a snowflake dancing on the wind, praying it would be enough to prevent her from plunging into the frigid depths below.

  Their progress was slow; each step was an arduous endeavor. Quicksand-like snow clung to Hannah’s boots, pulling her down. The journey exacted a fiery toll on her body, intensifying the pain in her shins and thighs with every step.

  “Stick close!” Ernie’s shout was barely audible over the howling wind.

  Hannah nodded, her grip tightening on the rope that connected them. She refused to let the blizzard break her spirit. She summoned every ounce of strength within her and forged ahead, one agonizing step at a time. Her determination fueled her through the high drifts of snow, defying the biting cold and the punishing landscape.

  “Right behind you, Ernie,” she called out, her voice strained and hoarse, the cold air biting at her throat. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Dan, his gruff demeanor and curt words now insignificant in the face of what might have happened to him.

  “Ernie, I think we should...” Frank’s voice trailed off as an intense gust of wind tore through their party, nearly knocking them off their feet. Hannah braced herself, planting her boots firmly on the ice, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Go on,” Ernie urged, but his words were lost in the storm.

  Hannah’s focus narrowed to the rhythmic crunch of snow underfoot and the taut line connecting them. The world closed in on her, reducing everything to the thunderous tumult that assailed her senses. Each successive wave of the resounding roar delivered an unremitting onslaught, whipping her with a continuous flow of crystalline dust that sought to sting at her skin and eyes.

  And then, without warning, Ernie stopped. Hannah, unable to arrest her momentum, collided with him. As they steadied themselves, he pointed ahead, his eyes wide with shock.

  “Look!” he yelled, straining to be heard above the wind. “Over there!”

  Hannah squinted into the storm, her pulse quickening as she tried to make sense of the shapes emerging from the swirling maelstrom. At first, all she saw were shifting shadows, but then her gaze settled on a flash of black and gold, flapping violently in the wind.

  “Over there, by the fishing shack!” Ernie shouted, drawing their attention to the ice fishing shack, where a scarf was caught on a protruding nail.

  Hannah’s heart dropped like a stone into her stomach, fear clawing at her insides. He had been here, out in this merciless storm. She couldn’t help but imagine the worst: Dan alone, hurt, freezing somewhere in the icy wilderness.

  How Ernie had even seen the scarf puzzled her. He was the only one in their party who wore glasses, and they must be fogged up like crazy by now.

  “The...shack...Dan’s!” Frank cried, the winds whipping away half of his words.

  Ernie pointed and began walking in the direction of the ice fishing shack. They pressed on, each step bringing them closer to the billowing Pittsburgh Steelers scarf.

  Eighteen

  The blizzard roared around them, unleashing its fury with unwavering force. They trudged through the unforgiving elements, with snow and ice assaulting their exposed skin as they drew closer to the ice fishing shack. They sought refuge within the shelter’s 6x8-foot shadow, finding temporary respite from the pounding winds. Hannah’s breath steadied, her tense muscles relaxing as a fleeting warmth seeped back into her frozen limbs.

  With trembling hands, Hannah freed the scarf from the nail it was snagged on. It was indeed Dan’s black and gold Pittsburgh Steelers scarf. Her heart skipped a beat when she discovered faint traces of dried blood sprinkled on it. It felt as though the air had been sucked out of her lungs, and a suffocating weight pressed upon her chest. She held her breath against her will, her gaze involuntarily shifting to the left, where a devastating sight awaited her.

  Dan lay face down on the ice, blood seeping from the back of his head, staining the pristine surface with a haunting shade of red. His once vibrant complexion resembled that of a cold marble statue, frozen in an eternal stillness.

  Hannah’s stomach twisted, threatening to revolt, but as the moments passed, her breaths steadied, the queasiness subsiding. An indescribable sound escaped her lips, tears welled in her eyes, and a floodgate of emotions crashed upon her. The memory of sterile hospital walls and detached professionalism paled in comparison to this raw reality. Knowing Dan and seeing his lifeless form was an entirely different, heart-wrenching experience. At the hospital, she was able to emotionally detach and focus on what needed to be done in order to save a patient’s life. If the patient passed away despite her best efforts and those of other medical professionals, it was a tragedy. But one couldn’t dwell on it very long before another patient would come into the emergency department in need of lifesaving care.

  Ernie’s normally steady hands trembled as he removed his glasses and rubbed away the wetness from his eyes. “Oh, Dan...damn it...who could...he was so young,” he uttered, shaking his head vehemently, as if trying to will away the grim tableau before them.

  Frank placed a consoling arm around Ernie, offering what solace he could. Ernie’s lips pressed together in a frown as he wiped the lenses of his spectacles and replaced them on his face.

  The three of them stood there, fixated in disbelief, with their gazes locked upon the crumpled form of Dan. It felt like a violation of life itself—a cruel theft that robbed a promising existence of its future. Dan, in his early thirties, had been snatched away, denied the chance to marry, have children, and grow old. He left only a void of unanswered questions.

  A few feet from Dan’s body, Hannah’s eyes fell upon a long, black stick tainted with blood. It looked like a much smaller baseball bat, but instead of wood grain, it was black. She pointed it out, drawing the attention of the men, who turned their heads in unison.

  “A fish club? They...they hit him with a…” Ernie’s words stumbled out, his usually mild manner now tainted with a volatile mixture of grief and anger.

  She gave Frank a questioning look. Frank, recognizing her silent plea, said, “You whack the fish with it after you pull them out.”

  “Christ! And from behind! That cowardly son of...He never seen it comin’,” Ernie muttered, pulling his own scarf tighter around his neck and pointing to the back of Dan’s skull.

  “Nobody deserves this,” Frank added quietly.

  Hannah’s focus wavered from the haunting scene, her gaze catching something glinting in the center of the shack.

  “Look,” she breathed, her voice trembling, finger pointing to the ice fishing hole. “There’s something there.”

  Frank closed the distance to the gaping hole, his steps deliberate and measured. With calculated precision, he retrieved the net from the icy depths. Hannah’s pulse quickened, her heart pounding in her chest, as a revelation took hold. This seemingly insignificant piece of equipment, haphazardly discarded in the struggle, had inadvertently collected vital evidence. Proof that the killer intended to vanish into the frigid depths.

  Within the intricate mesh, a spark plug and a gleaming, yellow tin with vibrant green lettering remained ensnared. The tin bore the label “Turner’s Lead Arsenate,” resembling a miniature paint bucket. Yet, what caught Hannah’s attention was the large warning label on the back—a stark declaration of danger, the word “POISON” framed by ominous skull and crossbones symbols. A shiver coursed down her spine, her voice a mere whisper.

  “Poison...why would anyone have this?”

  Frank cleared his throat, assuming a somber tone. “It’s a pesticide. This specific brand is produced at the Darrow Chemical Company, where Dan works...ahem...where he worked. However, almost anyone here could have accessed it from the barn at any time.”

  Ernie nodded in agreement, his features etched with a mix of concern and uncertainty. “That makes sense.”

  “And the spark plug? Is that for the snowmobile?”

  Both men nodded.

  Hannah’s gaze scanned the interior of the ice fishing shack, her attention drawn to a brown paper bag discarded in the garbage can. The remnants of Edgar or Walter’s lunch lingered within—a sandwich and a near-blackened banana peel. She removed the contents of the bag and motioned for Frank to deposit the pesticide tin into the makeshift evidence container.

  “If we’re lucky,” she said. “There might only be one set of fingerprints on this.”

  Ernie’s brows furrowed, his eyes fixated on the evidence before them. “Who would do this? And why leave it in plain sight?”

  A sudden realization dawned on Hannah, a blend of excitement and terror coursing through her veins.

  “Because it wasn’t in plain sight!” Hannah and Frank cried at the same time.

  “Think about it,” Hannah said, turning to Ernie. “The ice fishing shack has no electricity. At night time, the killer wouldn’t have seen that they knocked the net over the ice fishing hole. It would have been dark—the killer likely just heard the splash and assumed they’d taken care of the evidence.”

  “Right under our noses,” Frank muttered through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching.

  Hannah bent down to the body on the ice. She first felt his hands. Next, she checked one of Dan’s arms and one of his legs and performed joint articulation. Lastly, she pulled down on his chin to gauge the difficulty of opening his mouth.

  “What are you doing?” Ernie asked with an expression of horror on his face.

  “Checking stiffness.”

  “He’s literally a stiff. He’s not going to get any more dead.”

  “I’m trying to get an estimate of when he died.”

  “Oh,” Ernie said.

  “You can do that?” Frank asked.

  She could have sworn Frank’s tone contained a note of admiration.

  “I’m no pathologist, so take it with a grain of salt, but I can give a rough guesstimate based on postmortem lividity or livor mortis—that’s the pooling of the blood where his body is close to the ice that looks reddish-purple. It’s caused by gravity and how long the body has been in that position. Also, the stiffness of the smaller muscles and the joints indicates the level of rigor mortis.”

  “Well? How long do you estimate?” Ernie asked.

  Hannah clicked her tongue as she concentrated. “I would put time of death between one and five in the morning. Of course, the temperature might throw that estimate off, but based on the lividity and how rigor has just started to set in, I would say he was killed between two o’clock and five o’clock this morning.”

  She began checking the pockets of Dan’s coat and jeans.

  “What are you looking for now?”

  “Clues.”

  Both men waited with uneasy looks on their faces. She felt ghoulish going through the man’s pockets, but it wasn’t as if she was robbing a corpse.

  She produced a key hanging from a keyfob that was stamped with Dan’s room number on it. That was the only item she found on the body.

  “That’s it?” Ernie asked. “The key to his room?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe something in his room can tell us something.”

  Ernie nodded, though his look of distaste was still apparent.

  The three of them huddled together in the narrow doorway of the ice fishing shack, their collective breath mingling in the frigid air, forming a fog that hung before them as they weighed their options.

  Ernie’s voice carried an urgent undertone as he spoke, his words hushed yet filled with determination. “We can’t waste any time. They need to know what we found.”

  In unison, Frank and Hannah nodded, their agreement evident in their solemn faces. As another biting gust of icy wind swept through the desolate landscape, Hannah’s body shivered involuntarily, feeling the chill seep into her very core.

  Realizing their limited mobility in the treacherous blizzard, Hannah turned to Frank, her eyes locking onto his with a glimmer of hope. “What about the snowmobile? We have the spark plug now. Will it run?”

  Frank hmmed to himself thoughtfully. “I’m no expert on snowmobiles, but I think if we dry it off, it could work. It isn’t foolproof, but I think it’s worth a shot anyway. I’ll take it into town. It’s only eight miles.”

 

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