Thin Ice Read Free Page B

“That’s a lot to deal with in a very short time.”
    â€œTell me about it.” She rested her left hand on the table beside the computer and clenched her fist. “I try to take it day by day, and I pray a lot. Some days are easier than others. Yesterday wasn’t one of them. Not after this arrived in the mail.” She touched the corner of the plastic-encased envelope.
    â€œWhy was that a problem?”
    Her throat worked again, and she moistened her lips. “Because that’s Ginny’s handwriting.”
    The letter was from the sister who’d died two months ago?
    He checked the postmark. The note had been mailed January 5 from Terre Haute, Indiana. Four days ago.
    But dead people didn’t write letters.
    â€œI had the same reaction.” At her quiet comment, he turned his head. Intelligent eyes the color of burnished jade met his, steady but anxious. “This is what was inside.” She flipped over the sheet of paper.
    He read the short, typewritten message.
    I took your sister. If you want her back, do not tell anyone about this or call the police. Just wait for furthur orders.
    A typical kidnapping note.
    Except this wasn’t a typical kidnapping scenario. Not by a long shot. For one thing, kidnappers didn’t wait two months to initiate contact. For another, this victim was supposed to be already dead.
    â€œI know this doesn’t seem to make sense.” Christy drew a shaky breath. “But it could if my sister didn’t die in the fire.”
    He frowned. “Are you telling me they didn’t find her body?”
    â€œThey found a body. It was burned beyond recognition.” Her voice choked, and she swallowed. “Everyone assumed it was her.”
    â€œWasn’t there an autopsy?”
    â€œNo. Ginny was a wildlife biologist in the Mark Twain National Forest. She lived on the outskirts of Chandler, a small town just south of Potosi, and the local police didn’t see any need for an autopsy after an investigator from the state fire marshal’s office ruled the fire accidental.”
    â€œWhat was the basis for that opinion?”
    â€œMy sister’s house was old and drafty, and she supplemented her furnace with electric heaters downstairs and in her bedroom. According to the investigator, it appeared the one in thebedroom had been too close to the curtains. The window was open, and he reasoned that the wind blew the fabric against the heater, which started the fire. The frame house was old, the wood dry . . .” She lifted one shoulder.
    No matter the apparent cause, an autopsy should have been done. Would have been done by a larger police department.
    And it could still be done—if necessary.
    Lance folded his hands on the table. “Other than this note, do you have any reason to think the body found in your sister’s house belonged to someone else?”
    â€œNo. That’s why the whole thing is so confusing. But this is Ginny’s handwriting. The backward slant, the curlicue at the end of the s , the tail she always added to her capital R ’s . . . her penmanship is distinctive.”
    â€œAn expert forger could replicate it.”
    She sucked in a breath. “You think this is some sort of hoax?”
    â€œIt’s possible.”
    â€œBut . . . why would someone do that?”
    â€œGood question—except look at the flip side. If this isn’t a hoax, someone went to a lot of effort to make it appear your sister died in a fire, including providing a body. Why would someone do that ?”
    She shook her head, her distress almost palpable. “I have no idea.”
    â€œDid your sister have any enemies?”
    â€œNo. Ginny was the sweetest, gentlest . . .” She groped for her water, lifting it with both hands again to take a sip. “Sorry.” She set the cup back down. “Everyone loved Ginny.”
    â€œWas she