Mountain Ice (David Dean Mysteries)

"You're a nice girl, Martha. We both like you very much." Then he added, "If you ever have a problem, I want you to know you can come to us." So much for all the empty words he'd been spilling to Cynthia about not getting involved, he thought. Martha just continued to nod and look straight ahead but she wore a hint of a smile.

As Dean and his young passenger neared Bird Song, Edith Shipton drove up the street, parked, and entered the inn ahead of them. A vehicle, a mud-splatted Blazer, with skis in a rack atop it, followed her and slowed as it passed the building. Dean caught sight of its bearded driver who stared in the direction of the retreating woman.

"That's Donnie's ma," Martha announced. "She's a mess."

"What makes you say that?" Dean asked, surprised at the young girl's unusual candor.

"Her old man beats her like a tin drum and he's gonna kill her if he finds where she is. She's hiding out. On the lam, sort of."

"How do you know that?"

"Donnie. He writes notes." When Dean didn't ask anything further, Martha continued. "That Donnie-he's not dumb."

"He's a very intelligent boy," Dean answered. "He just isn't able to speak. It's called being mute."

"I didn't mean he was stupid-dumb-dumb like me! I know the difference!" Dean was startled by her sharpness, chastising himself for underestimating the young girl.

"Donnie's real smart. He's good at puzzles and stuff." Then she added, "I'm not good at nothing."

"That's not true, Martha." He looked over at her, still pressed against the door. "When I was about your age, I wasn't a lick smarter than you."

"Go on, Mr. Dean! You're a real smart guy. You own a fancy place and drive a practically new jeep. You got a pretty wife. Dumb doesn't get you all that stuff."

He smiled to himself. "Smart isn't what you own, Martha. Smart comes in different packages."

"I know that."

"When I was your age, I didn't think I was very smart, but I had a father who honestly thought I was the greatest, smartest, nicest kid alive. He kept telling me that. Oh, I knew he just thought that way because I was his kid, but I figured he was a pretty smart guy himself so he couldn't be all wrong. I started thinking maybe I wasn't so dumb after all."

"I don't even know who my old man is," Martha said glumly. "And I ain't seen my ma in a long time. Besides, she knows how dumb I am. She used to tell me all the time."