Frozen Footprints by Therese Heckenkamp

Author:Therese Heckenkamp
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ivory Tower Press
Published: 2015-11-13T18:30:00+00:00

* * *

About an hour later, Abner summoned me upstairs. As I climbed out of the dryer, I wasn’t surprised to see he had a handgun trained on me. I blinked in the unnaturally bright overhead light and wondered uneasily where Clay was.

“I’m running out of patience,” Abner began. “I went to check for the ransom earlier today, and it’s still not there.”

I felt blood drain from my face. He’s going to hack off my toe.

“Now, now, no need to jump to conclusions. What I’m asking is very reasonable: I want a New Year’s Eve feast.” He smacked his lips disgustingly. “So you better be able to cook a decent lasagna, because if I like it, you get to keep all your fingers. Don’t, I let you choose which one you lose.” He grinned. “Think you can handle that?”

You don’t cook lasagna, you bake it, my mind quibbled while I curled my fingers into my palms protectively. “Sure I can handle that,” I tried to keep my voice from shaking, “as long as you’ve got the ingredients.”

The expression on his face gave me a sinking feeling.

“Come now, I’m sure a smart Perigard like you can figure something out.”

“I can’t create something out of nothing.”

Abner merely responded, “The kitchen is yours.” He prodded me forward with the gun, and as we passed the closed bedroom door, I wondered about the floral wreath. It had to be Lydia’s. I could understand the old photo stuffed away in a drawer, but if he was so bitter about his wife leaving him, why did he let the wreath still hang in full view?

He saw my gaze on the door and remarked, “Clay’s in there sleeping off a beating.”

Remembering the brutal sounds I’d heard hours earlier, I wondered if he would ever wake up.

I faced the kitchen on rubber knees and drew in a deep breath, hesitant to open the fridge and cupboards. Abner was obviously trying to give me an impossible task, like in a fairy tale when a fair maiden is commanded to spin straw into gold. He wanted me to fail so he could carry out his dastardly threat. Well, I might not have been a fair maiden, but I liked to think I had a fairly decent brain. I’d figure out some solution.

Abner crossed the small living room and fiddled with the dials of the radio while still keeping an eye, and the gun, on me. A beer can sat on the bookshelf. Warmth seeped through my coat and thawed my cheeks, and I assumed the wood stove was burning strong. I removed my hat, scarf, gloves, and coat, and I felt ten pounds lighter. Then I smoothed my hands on my jeans and got to work.

A quick glance through the squeaky cupboards revealed a major lack of ingredients, as well as a sprinkling of mouse droppings. Trying not to cringe, I began accumulating canned tomatoes, Italian dressing, a chunk of rock-hard white cheese, and a bottle of ketchup. “No lasagna noodles!” I exclaimed, almost ready to give up.

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