Buried (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (15 page)

Danni Crawford
.

There was a blink of a moment. Carl thought about the general reluctance of criminals to bring about the full force of the law. “I got a call. A tip she was sleeping with Brown. It draws it in.”

“Oh, shit, seriously?” Metzger exhaled heavily. “I guess I don’t get the water fountain gossip. You need to follow up on that.”

“Does MacIntosh know about the killing?”

“She didn’t answer when I called. I got the impression she was heading north yesterday, so it might be a signal issue. Carl, the last person Crawford called was Jason Santiago. Do you have any idea what that means? His story is he got nervous when he couldn’t reach her back. I hope everyone realizes he isn’t officially on duty right now.”

Was this the time to confess they’d asked Santiago to help even though it hadn’t been authorized and he was technically on leave?

No, not until he asked MacIntosh. If she agreed to reveal that to the chief, fine with him. Usually he might just go ahead, but he was being cautious, playing the perfect partner. He had too much at stake to even allow the possibility she would complain about him.

On the way to the scene, he called Santiago instead of Ellie. She was four hours away and a murder victim hadn’t called her, so first things first.

Jason picked up on the second ring and his raspy voice was thick. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

“You tell me.” Grasso negotiated into a center lane. “I just heard that Danni Crawford called you this morning and you went to her place and found her dead.”

“Not my finest morning. They booted me out as soon as they got on scene.”

“The call … what did she say?”

“Nothing. Like … nothing. The phone rang but she wasn’t there. That’s what made me uneasy. I tried to call back but no luck. It made me nervous. Mind filling me in on the investigation? Metzger called and drilled me a few minutes ago and asked me the exact same question.”

“If I can.”

“You’d better.” It was not a usual day when Jason Santiago sounded shaken. “Call me back, okay? I fucking just had dinner with her last night … something is up, man. This is nuts.”

Something
was
up. It wasn’t good either. Santiago was right. Carl was doing the math and he was coming up with quite a startling figure when it came to cops who’d been targeted in the past few months. The department was not doing all that well.

Just as he pulled up, Ellie called him. “Okay, what’s going on? I’ve got messages from you, Metzger, and as we speak, Santiago is beeping in. My phone was dead but I didn’t realize it. I’m on my way back, by the way. About an hour out.”

“Someone killed Officer Danni Crawford.”

Silence. It took a second and then in an altered voice, she said, “Like the others?”

“Pretty much.”

“Can you give me the address? Or does Metzger not want us on the scene.”

“This is getting big enough I think he might give this homicide to us, pass it off as too many cases for one team. Hamish and Rays are pretty overworked as it is. We might just all have to pitch in if we can connect the cases.”

She didn’t argue. “That would make it easier. I never did like the idea of creeping around someone else’s investigation just because Metzger is worried the department will get more mud on its face.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He did. “Crawford had just gotten off her shift. Went home and walked into an ambush blind, or so I’m told. I’m just getting here. She tried to call Santiago instead of 911. Maybe it was the advantage of speed dial and she was already getting weak. I’m not sure.”

“Are you kidding?” It was a mutter.

“I wish I was.” Carl slid out of the car, extended his badge to a waiting officer controlling the perimeter, and walked up the front steps with the phone still to his ear.

“Why Crawford?”

“I’ve been having this conversation with myself.”

“Did you happen to answer yourself by any chance?”

“So far, I don’t seem to know. But, as she and Chad Brown were in a relationship, at least we have a link there. Santiago might know more. They had dinner together last night before her shift. I have another name … Lieman, the DEA guy. This is all over the place.”

“Santiago called me in the middle of the night. He sounded kind of wired up.”

“When is he not wired up? You should have talked to him two minutes ago. I’m here now. I’ll text the address.”

He shut off his phone, ducked under the crime scene tape, and entered the house. A deputy medical examiner was dictating notes into a handheld recorder, and the crime scene techs were everywhere, dusting and searching.

Crawford was still in uniform, on her back, one arm extended, the other lax against her chest. They must have already bagged the phone, but her service weapon was on the floor next to her.

The medical examiner was fairly new, but they had worked together on a case involving a double homicide and high-profile actress recently, and she glanced up and recognized him. “Detective.”

“Dr. Hammet.” He pulled on a glove and knelt down, avoiding a pool of congealing blood. “We meet again, but I certainly wish it wasn’t quite this way. What do we have?”

“You know I can’t be conclusive until after the autopsy, but she was shot six times.” Hammet’s voice was somber. “I think from first glance that there were two different weapons involved. I’m going to guess she was still alive when her assailants left, since she was able to move and take out her phone, but she was bleeding out. I won’t know until I get her on the table if they hit any vital organs, but definitely nicked an artery or two from all the blood. Looks like one of the bullets shattered her femur so she was really losing blood fast. I’m going to speculate that killed her.”

There was something about a dead cop in uniform … brought it all home, Carl thought. Not the world’s most dangerous job, but up there.

“She get off any shots?”

Hammet shook her head. “I’m bagging her hands and I’ll let you know.” She said it with pragmatic analysis. “Some scenes are a little harder to sum up at a glance. The gun is lying in her blood as you can see. Time of death? I’m guessing two to three hours ago from body temperature, but by the time she was found she was already dead. Obviously, she walked in and someone was waiting for her. At that time of the morning, most people are sound asleep.”

“Still … that much gunfire?” He stared at the body, at the vacant eyes, the pale dead color of Danni Crawford’s face. “How could no one hear?”

“You are the detective, Lieutenant Grasso.”

He was. Just thinking out loud, he murmured, “Silencers.” They worked. Forensics might be able to tell the story. In any case, it was all overkill, no pun intended. He straightened. “At a guess, she didn’t have a chance to return fire.”

“The lab will let you know.”

True, but in the meantime, evidence was like melting ice. It deteriorated fast. He said, “I’m going to look around until my partner gets here.”

Though it had never been his strong point, it was always good to at least seem like a team player.

Chapter 14

The ax cut into the wood with a clear, sharp sound. He picked up another log, arranged it, and then brought the blade down.

Two pieces successfully fell apart and he repeated the motion.

There was something cathartic about chopping wood.

What amazed him was the utter ease of it. Not what he was doing at the moment—he was sweating under his shirt—but the deflection of suspicion.

No one really was asking questions … no, they were sympathetic, afraid to look him in the eye, avoiding the topic.

To his shame, he wanted to avoid it too.

No one wanted to ask him about his wife and that was just as well, since he didn’t know the answer.

*   *   *

“Sorry,” Ellie said
shortly as they pulled to the curb. “This will be a zoo. I’m not sure how long…”

“I have my laptop,” Bryce said agreeably, “and trust me, I would rather not go inside even if I was invited to this party. You go have fun.”

She would have taken him home first but this was pretty urgent, and still she hesitated before she shut the door of the car. “It could be awhile.”

“I’ll hang with my manuscript.”

“Keep the car keys. You can go home whenever. I’ll call if I need a ride. Grasso can always drop me off.”

“Sounds fair enough.”

He truly seemed fine with it, which was a relief. By the time Ellie got out of the car and went up the steps of a small brick house with a trim yard, the neighborhood midwestern suburban, maybe even the type of house she might have chosen for herself if she was in the market, his dark head was bent and his eyes focused on the screen.

The scene inside was disturbing, no doubt of that.

The body was being bagged as she walked in, her credentials in hand, edging past obviously angry cops, the aura antagonistic all around.

It was one thing if a cop fell in the line of duty. Another if they were targeted. It made all of them feel vulnerable and no one liked that.

Danni Crawford exited via a stretcher and ME personnel, and all that was left was a house covered in fingerprint dust and a few more crime tech team members peering into corners. Dr. Hammet nodded as she went by, and Ellie nodded back, but her gaze was focused on the significant blood pool on the beige carpet and then whipped up to where Grasso stood talking on his cell phone.

This was a mess.

He caught sight of her and said something before he flicked off his phone.

“Santiago?” It was a guess. When he didn’t get her—and she hadn’t called him back because she preferred to actually have some information before they talked—he’d pester Grasso. She could picture her partner in that generic apartment, pacing around, using his phone to bridge the gap between boredom and helplessness and anger.…

She thought about the tricycle in the hallway, and the laughter in the pool, and the smiling moms getting into their cars every afternoon in his apartment complex, and it was simply the oddest realization to come to, but of all people on this green earth, Jason Santiago didn’t do alone well.

Go figure.

Grasso, on the other hand, did alone extremely well. He just looked distant, all emotion wiped from his face. “It was my idea he try to pick her brain. Not that he’s blaming me, but he’s flipping out over this murder even more than Brown being killed.” His expression might be bland but his tone was grim. “Must be the correlation of them getting together and her getting dead. Let’s keep in mind he was also with her when she answered the call about Brown. That makes two dead cops for him recently, and considering why he’s on leave, almost three if he includes himself. He’s jumping out of his skin.”

“I don’t really blame him.” Ellie looked around at the small living room. “I am not going to go so far as to say he’s a sensitive guy, but I have been surprised before by his reaction to certain situations. In the first case we worked together he spent quite a bit of time finding the victim’s dog so he could return it to the widow.”

“Did he? You’d think I’d be surprised, but actually, I’m not.”

“Santiago aside, what happened? Do we have any witnesses?”

“We don’t, as usual.” Grasso wore gray pinstripe silk, and he wore it well, his silver eyes as intense as ever. “As far as we can tell, she walked in, they were waiting, and then started shooting. She drew her weapon, but so far there is no evidence she even got off a shot. It seems there were two of them, or that was what the ME speculates. It was probably over in less than a minute.”

“How did they get in?”

“Bedroom window. It was pried open. Out through the back door because they were in a hurry is my guess. They knew she was dying … beyond rescue.” He stared at the bloodstain on the carpet. “But they left a little too soon. She tried to call Santiago. I think they’d have just taken care of it if she’d moved.”

“Why didn’t she call 911?”

“How do I know? If I had to call it, I’d say since they talked to each other last night, maybe she just pressed redial because that was easier. She was confused, dying, and beyond a doubt in shock.”

Ellie scanned the room. The couch was floral and feminine, the beige carpet ruined now, but it looked like it was fairly new and suited the decor, the walls a neutral ivory color. The kitchen had a minimum of clutter, with three pretty canisters on little iron pedestals, and an embroidered hand towel hanging on the oven door.

A woman’s kitchen, Ellie thought with a twinge of genuine sorrow. The softness at home Crawford couldn’t get from climbing into that patrol car every single time she wore the badge.

An hour later, everything was done, the scene processed, the neighbors interviewed. Bryce had left, but only because she’d gone and told him she’d call later. She said to Grasso, “Can I hitch a ride?”

“Absolutely if you don’t mind a slight detour. I thought we might go see Santiago.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

They walked out together. It was a peaceful day, the street quiet now, the ambulance gone, the leaves whispering in a light breeze. Rows of pleasant houses, mowed lawns; not a scene for murder, Ellie thought bleakly. There were two patrol cars left, the officers standing by, both of them with cell phones pressed to their ears. They nodded as she and Grasso walked past, but this was not a casual crime, not by a long shot, and their expressions showed it.

“I have mixed feelings over Metzger passing this to us.” Carl pressed a button and his expensive car beeped. “Being in the background is one thing, but this is all over the department, especially now.”

He started to the passenger side as if he was going to open her door, but she beat him to it. She appreciated the polite thought, but this wasn’t a courtship. “I thought you wanted back on homicide for good.”

“This isn’t the best case for it.” He got into the car, his face set. “This is exactly the kind of case that gets you fired. Cops do not like cops dying.”

Ellie thought about those lonely bones in a drawer up north as she fastened her seat belt. “Cops don’t like anyone dying, Lieutenant.”