A Day in the Life of a Running Pines Islander by Tessa Wegert

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Hello, dear readers! Welcome to another dull, featureless Tuesday. I'm sure there's nothing important going on, and that you're reading this while lingering over a second cup of coffee.

Wait, I'm getting a report... what? It's what day? Oh, I see.

Never mind.

In fact, you'll be happy to spend time with us anyway, because we have a great distraction. Tessa Wegert, who combines modern-day "locked room" mysteries with psychological suspense (honestly, her books read like Agatha Christie with an anxiety disorder) is out today with THE COLDEST CASE, the sixth Shana Merchant mystery. I love this series, in part because Tessa finds the most remote and dangerous places at the far northern edge of New York State. An island of less than ten souls locked in by the St. Lawrence River ice? Why didn't I think of that?

Having grown up in Saskatchewan and Quebec where extreme cold is the norm, I’ve always wanted to set a mystery in unspeakable winter conditions. With The Coldest Case, I got my chance. It follows a community of just eight people who overwinter on a remote island bordering Ontario and upstate New York (based on real-life Grindstone Island). Spend the day with Cary Caufield on Running Pine, where the weather is punishing and the people aren’t quite what they seem. 

 

 

I heard it again last night: the howling. Coywolves, calling one another somewhere in the snowbound woods. I’m learning that the cold isn’t our only enemy here.

 

Running Pine Island is not the frosty paradise we make it out to be.

 

As I drink my morning coffee, I count the cans of tuna in the cupboard beside the stove. Nine. It’s not nearly enough. The other cottages have chest freezers crammed with chicken breasts and chuck roast, entire closets packed with shelf-stable food while we eat meal after meal of white rice and tuna. I’m not sure what Sylvie and I will do when we run out of supplies. The islanders, of which there are six – just eight of us in all on this five-thousand-acre island – might be willing to lend us a snowmobile, but the ice is a minefield of soft spots, unseen currents conspiring to find an exit point. A crack, and the river could swallow me and the machine like a tern with a fish. It isn’t worth risking my neck for a pork chop, though the thought of hot, pan-seared meat makes my stomach feel like an empty stock pot.

 

On Instagram, our life is sparkle-bright. We don’t post photos of the tuna or the dirty dishes in the sink. The fire-fed air in the cottage is so dry that Sylvie’s lips are cracked and bloody, but no one will know because I can fix that. Correct imperfections and dial up the color. It’s not lying if it’s online.

 

Online, Running Pine is a dreamscape of glittering snowfields and hot pink sunsets, our snug cottage magazine-ready with its trendy camp blankets and sheepskin rugs. The mug in my hand? It came from a shelf of mismatched dishes that we use as pops. This particular cup is painted with an American flag, and one of these days I’ll fill it with gifted champagne and snap a selfie of myself toasting to our followers. They love Running Wild and our enviable life. They love us.

 

They have no idea what it’s like when we log off and go back to the business of surviving.

 

This all seemed so doable back in July, before the frost. Before the freeze. We’ll spend a year on the island, Sylvie and I said. Document our experience on an Instagram account called Running Wild. I think about that easy time when, a few hours later, I’m trudging down to the river with numb fingers and tingling toes. My task for the day is to catch up on posts: snap some pics, enhance them in Photoshop, share them with the world. Now that we have a healthy number of followers, the gifts from brands keep coming, which we showcase as part of our well-appointed North Country wilderness lifestyle. I know that Rich Samson – he’s the one who delivers the mail out here – isn’t happy about hauling boots and glassware and monogrammed Christmas tree stands across the river. They keep to themselves, the islanders, but Sylvie and I do worry. We’re not sure they like all of this attention. Their secret icy paradise put on display. They think we’re shallow, unprepared, naïve. That we’re exploiting Running Pine for our own gain. And unlike all those followers, the islanders are close by. Just a five-minute walk through the woods where coywolves hide in the winter-dark shadows.

 

The cold isn’t our only enemy on Running Pine Island.

 

And I’m terrified of what the night will bring.

 

Have you ever spent time in a remote frozen wilderness? If not, would you? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments!

 

THE COLDEST CASE: It’s February in the Thousand Islands and, cut off from civilization by endless ice, eight people are overwintering on tiny, remote Running Pine. Six year-rounders, used to the hard work, isolation and freezing temperatures . . . and two newcomers: social media stars Cary and Sylvie, whose account documenting their year on the island is garnering thousands of followers, and thousands of dollars’ worth of luxury gifts.

The long-term islanders will tell you Running Pine can be perilous – especially for city slickers who’ll do anything to get the perfect shot. So when Cary doesn’t return from ice fishing one morning, his neighbors fear the worst.

With the clock ticking to find the missing influencer, a police team are dispatched to take the dangerous journey to the island . . . but Sylvie, his frantic partner, will only talk to one person: newlywed Senior Investigator Shana Merchant.

Where is Cary – and what is it that Sylvie’s not sharing? With aspects of the case reminding Shana of an unsolved homicide from her past that haunts her still, she risks her own safety to help. But little does she know that a storm is coming – and if she doesn’t solve both crimes soon, she may become the island’s next victim . . .

 

Tessa Wegert is the author of the popular Shana Merchant mysteries, which include Death in the Family, The Dead Season, Dead Wind, The Kind to Kill, Devils at the Door, and The Coldest Case, along with the upcoming North Country thriller series. 

 Her books have received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Shelf Awareness and have been featured on PBS and NPR Radio. A former journalist and copywriter, Tessa grew up in Quebec and now lives with her husband and children in Connecticut, where she co-founded Sisters in Crime CT and serves on the board of International Thriller Writers (ITW).