Heart of Ice by P. J. Parrish Read Free Book Online Page A

into the island’s wooded interior. Some bikers stared at the sight of the SUV, but most of the pedestrians just waved. There were only about five hundred permanent residents on Mackinac, Flowers explained, and everyone knew everyone else’s name, face, and business.
    “This is the Village, where the locals live,” Flowers said as he slowed to go through a small residential area. “That’s my place over there.”
    Louis caught a glimpse of a small green bungalow set back among the pines before they headed back into the woods again.
    “So why’d you change your mind about staying?” Flowers asked.
    “It was changed for me,” Louis said. “Lily said it was my responsibility to help.”
    Flowers smiled. “I get that. Got two girls of my own.”
    “They stay here on the island all year long?”
    Flowers smile faded. “No, they’re with my ex in Kansas City.”
    They rode on in silence, passing a sign that read MACKINAC ISLAND STATE PARK .
    “So where’s Rafsky?” Louis asked.
    “Far as I know he’s checking in at the Potawatomi. I told one of my men to bring him out here in the golf cart. I don’t want to deal with him any sooner than I have to.”
    “He’s not going to like me being here.”
    “He’ll have to adjust,” Flowers said.
    They turned onto a sandy road, coming up behind the lodge from the back. The chain-link fence was roped in yellow tape. A man in a blue paper jumpsuit was scouring the weedy yard with a metal detector.
    Flowers led Louis to the side porch. A tech with tweezers looked up when he heard their footsteps on the planks.
    “You got anything there, Henry?” Flowers asked.
    The tech shrugged. “Hairs, maybe human, maybe skunks. Some brown stuff, maybe blood, maybe dirt. Maybe nothing.”
    “You seen the state investigator yet?” Flowers asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Good, I want to go down in the basement and take a look before he arrives,” Flowers said. “You guys done down there?”
    “I think they’re done,” the tech said. “But the rest of this place is going to take days. You sure you want us scratching in every corner of every room for every hair?”
    Flowers glanced at Louis, clearly looking for affirmation, and when he got none he gave a nod. “You neverknow what evidence might have survived,” he said. “Just do what I asked, please.”
    When they were out of earshot Flowers said, “I heard of a case once where they kept a bag of stuff for thirty years that they vacuumed up from a rape scene. Turns out later they matched some hairs in the bag to someone.”
    “You did the right thing,” Louis said. “Until you know more about this girl and why she was here you can’t assume there isn’t evidence in other rooms.”
    The boards had been removed from the front door, but the windows were still shuttered. The electricity had been turned on, and the foyer was brightly lit by a huge driftwood chandelier.
    As Louis followed Flowers through the rooms he had the feeling that the place had been frozen in time. The walls were a mix of smooth logs, paneling, and peeling wallpaper. A single red chair with button cushions sat alone in one room, a three-legged piano stool in another. In the room where he had found the oil lamp there was a large deer head over a sooty stone fireplace.
    “What did this place look like in 1969?” Louis asked.
    “About the same,” Flowers said. “It was built just after the turn of the century as a hunting and fishing camp.”
    “When did it close?”
    “Like 1930 or something.”
    “You need to be sure, Chief.”
    Flowers glanced at him over his shoulder. “Yeah. Right. Watch that hole there. That’s where your little girl fell through.”
    They were in the kitchen now. Louis moved gingerlyaround the broken boards. It was easy to see the wood rot that rimmed the hole. A bright light coming from below gave him a view of the basement floor. He leaned over and peered down. It was a farther fall than he remembered, easily twelve