Buried (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (17 page)

“I’m going to venture to agree that as crazy as that sounds, you might be right.”

“I gathered she thought it might be a link back to drug trafficking, which supports something Grasso found out as well.”

“The two detectives I have assigned to the case tell me they think it is revenge motivated, not a conspiracy. Both Hamish and Rays have leads on possible suspects who Fielding and Brown both arrested. I want you and Grasso to check and see if Crawford is also a common denominator.”

“We will. I’ve already started on it.” She didn’t flinch, looking him back in the eye. “But, as odd as it sounds, I really am starting to trust Grasso and also Santiago. They have some interesting … er … methods at times, but they both think this might connect back to the Henley family business and their instincts seem pretty spot on.”

“MacIntosh, if I didn’t think they were talented detectives, I would not employ them, and tell me nothing about these interesting methods. Feel free to follow that angle, but keep in mind, defaming a prominent family—and Ely Henley could easily be our next mayor, or even our next governor—without the evidence to back it up, could just get us sued, or even cost me, and you, of course, your job.”

She flushed a little. “I don’t even know if we have an angle, but I do know that it seems like no one really agrees on why this is happening. There is no finger pointed anywhere, and Danni Crawford died simply because someone broke into her home and wanted her dead. From what I understand of her dedication to the job, if she had known something obvious, she would have come forward.”

“So it isn’t something obvious. She called me and asked for a meeting but I have no idea what she wanted.”

Her thoughts exactly. “And now she isn’t around for us to ask.”

“Which could be the killer’s intention.” He shoved himself to his feet. “I suggest you and Santiago go put your heads together. Let me know how it all goes. If he wants back that bad that he’s riding around in squad cars for kicks, I’ll approve it now, but for desk duty only. Tell him if he does anything stupid, he’s just on his own.”

“He’s bound to do something stupid, sir.”

For the first time since she’d met him, the chief actually laughed. “That,” he said with precise inflection, “is the absolute truth, Detective MacIntosh. Good luck.”

After he left, she touched the pad and brought her screen back up.

Needle in a haystack applied. The list of missing women from northern counties in Wisconsin could be pertinent, or it could not, and without dating on the skeleton, maybe she’d asked Santiago for an impossible favor. It was nice of Carson to send the file he had on the computer, but sifting through those paper files would be even more cumbersome.

The medical examiner had sent an e-mail to the department and Detective Carson had kindly forwarded it to her as well.

Jared:

This might be of interest. The skeleton from Oneida County had what had first appeared to be a postmortem fracture, but due to Detective MacIntosh’s personal interest in the case, I decided to give it another look. The only thing I think I didn’t mention to her, but it is in the report, is that our unfortunate young woman had at one time broken her right wrist, probably as a child. Hardly pertinent to her death, but perhaps to identification.

Perhaps. Ellie stared at the screen, trying to remember how many friends she’d had who had fallen from their bikes or jumped from the monkey bars on the playground and broken their arm in some way. Offhand she knew quite a few.

Not much help.

She logged off and noticed the time.

It was getting late. As always, she was juggling the job and her personal life.

The job usually won.

Chapter 16

Into the darkness.

He’d named it that, when he had these moments of doubt. His mind wandered, and then there was nothing but black.

Cold and bleak.

He sat on the side of the bed, shivering, head in hands, his shirt clammy against his skin, his legs weak, feet on the cold floor.

The damn nightmares.

They just didn’t stop. Invading his mind, ruining his sleep, blocking out the past.

It was easy to forget what was real and what might just be the worst dream his imagination had ever spun …

And no proof. He had no proof.

A blessing and a curse.

*   *   *

Jason woke up
on the couch. He registered that someone had just knocked and managed to squint at the clock.

Okay, so it was only eight-thirty in the evening, kind of early to go to sleep, but then again, he didn’t have a lot of deadlines at the moment and had drifted off during a sitcom, wearing his boxers and nothing else.

Luckily his jeans and shirt were on the floor and he jerked them on as the person knocked again. He said irritably, “Coming.”

Three steps forward and he was almost there before he thought of Danni, and before her Brown and Fielding, and stepped sideways from the door in case a bullet came through it. “Who is it?”

“Me.”

Okay. Definitely the voice of one Ellie MacIntosh, he thought sardonically, detective extraordinaire from northern Wisconsin. Her third visit in just a few days.

“That narrows it down.” He flipped the lock and swung open the front door. “But I do at least recognize your voice. What?”

“Please don’t try to bowl me over with your enthusiastic welcome. Can I come in?”

She stood, wearing a light jacket because it was a cool evening, her hair straight and natural, and her hazel eyes challenging but clearly meeting his without apology.

“Sure.”

She walked past, set her keys on the coffee table, and turned around. “Your dinner with Danni Crawford … we need to talk again.”

“Where’s your sidekick?”

“Believe it or not, I think Grasso had something to do tonight.”

“Yeah, I kinda don’t believe that.” He shut the door. “Beer?”

“Coffee?”

“That’s boring, MacIntosh. I’ve got instant, that’s all.”

“No to instant coffee, but thanks for the offer.” She sat down, slipping off her jacket. Her arms were slender and smooth but her expression was about as relenting as slate. “I’ve talked to them up north and you can look over the records.”

“Wait a minute. Are we talking about the cold case? I am sure it will be my pleasure to have them laughing at me as I bust my ass going over decades of dusty files. Do we even have the slightest clue as to who she could be?”

“Do we have the slightest clue who might have killed Danni Crawford?”

Jason lifted his hands in a gesture of impatience. “What direction are we going? I’m starting to get a little confused here. We are investigating both, right? What is it you want from me you didn’t get on your previous visit?”

“Metzger wants you back, but desk only.”

It stopped him cold. That
was
good news. He’d been hoping. His throat actually tightened.

“Music to my ears.” He sat down suddenly and said in a weak moment, “I’ve been struggling with all this; the down time, the—”

Too much information. He
never
had weak moments, he reminded himself, and sure as hell was not going to admit he’d been starting to worry he was suffering from some mild depression.

The emptiness. God, he didn’t even want to say it out loud, much less say it to her.

With an equanimity that surprised him, she responded evenly, “I get it. There’s always stress related to an injury like what you’ve experienced.”

“Now you’re talking like the psychologist they made me see.”

“Now I’m talking like someone who has been through it. I shot a serial killer and was shot myself. Let’s face it, it can’t be defined by someone who has not walked the path. The professionals mean well, I’m sure.” Her smile was brief and ironic. “But surely even they realize as they dig into it and try to figure out how we feel that it is impossible to know exactly how to react to an experience a person has never had.”

He liked her. Maybe that was the pull of attraction. Ellie had a lovely body he’d like to explore, but more important, an agile mind. He
liked
her.

“I agree. Ever thought about climbing Everest?” he asked, raking his hand through his hair. “Me? God, no. I realize I live where I live, but I hate to be cold. I can’t get past the cold. I would stand there on the top of the world’s highest mountain and ask how soon we could be back down at the bottom. The entire idea anyone ever wanted to do it—and they still do—flips me out. I just think they are all fucking nuts.”

“I get what you are saying. When you climb Everest you must come down with a sense of accomplishment that cannot be achieved without actually
doing
it, right?”

“Right. Most people don’t have a deep-seated desire to put their lives in danger by chasing bad guys either. I’m starting to think I can’t be happy if I don’t chase bad guys. Some people stare at the mountain and want to climb it. I watch the news and wonder how to catch killers. Unless you have the passion, you can’t understand it.”

Was he really discussing philosophy with Ellie MacIntosh?

Not at all his style, but maybe he was.

“Bryce is writing a novel.” She shook her head, her hair softly swinging. “I love to read, but it stops right there for me. He spends pretty much all his free time doing it with no promise it will ever get published. I don’t quite understand that either, but it seems to be a very real need for him, so I say go for it.”

Grantham. Mr. Brilliant, successful, and good-looking. Now he was bound to write the great American novel too. “It figures,” Jason muttered.

“What?” Ellie gazed at him, obviously mystified. “It figures he wants to write a book?”

“Jesus, tell me he snores or something. Sits down to pee. Talks with his mouth full. Better yet, his favorite breed of dog is a Maltese.” He tossed his empty can with remarkable accuracy toward the trash can. Two points as it went home. Bet Grantham couldn’t do that.

Ellie considered him with her unsettling brand of directness. She could look right through a person like no other. “You don’t even know him, but if you are inferring he has the big house and some sort of fairy-tale life, think again. Subject closed. Ever consider you are drinking too much since you were injured?”

He has you
.

Christ. Where the hell did that thought come from?
Jason said flippantly, “I was drinking too much before that for your information. Look, I need to know more about the missing-person case, but let’s talk about three dead cops first. The real question is, did Danni tell her theory to anyone but me?”

“You didn’t tell us about this theory. You walked around it and only said she intimated that she might be able to link Fielding to Brown and was looking into it.”

“Maybe she said a little more than that.”

*   *   *

It wasn’t her
fault, Ellie thought irritably, she didn’t understand Jason Santiago. She doubted anyone could. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Can we trust Grasso?” He sat there in what was obviously his favorite chair since he chose it every single time, careless in his worn jeans and T-shirt, and stared back at her, slightly defiant. The combative air was an annoyance. “He moves in some circles we don’t.”

“What?
You
were the one who trusted him on our last case. I have to admit I’m in the dark here now.”

“But
you
didn’t trust him.”

No, she hadn’t. As a matter of fact, she’d considered Carl Grasso a suspect for a while in the Burner case, but it turned out she was wrong. “Well, he isn’t here now. Did she name names? I’m still waiting to hear about this conversation.”

“If she had, I would have contacted Metzger on the spot. She didn’t
know
names. She just had an idea of what could tie the two murders together.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know if I believe it, but I believe it a hell of a lot more now that she’s dead too.”

“For God’s sake, just tell me what she said. Did she think there was a cop connection?”

Jason flicked at a piece of fabric on his torn jeans, his face suddenly abstract, his long fingers restless. “She definitely thought there was a connection. Now, I can’t argue that point. Can you? Grasso thinks it could be drugs tying into organized crime, and I understand there are a few other ideas floating around out there that link both murders to some sort of message to street cops to back off a little. She didn’t agree.”

Ellie clasped her hands and wished he had regular coffee. “What
did
she agree with?”

“She thinks this has something to do with Fielding’s wife. It is kind of a long story. She was going to call the chief and tell him about it, one on one, and I told her she should.” He added quietly, “Now she can’t.”

It was her turn to blink. “Um, yeah, fine … maybe I will take that beer while you explain. Go on.”

“Good, I could use another one.” He got up with alacrity, coming back to set a bottle in front of her on the coffee table. He sat back down, popping his open with theatric enjoyment. “It’s like this: Fielding busted a guy a couple of years ago. That’s how he met his wife. A drunk and disorderly at a very nice club. A
very
nice club, if you get me. She doesn’t come from money, but her boyfriend at the time does. He spends the night in jail. No big deal, right? He pays the fine because the family really, really can afford it, and at the end of it, goes on his merry way.”

Ellie didn’t really like beer but it was certainly preferable to instant coffee so she took a drink. “All right.”

“Then Fielding marries her. Apparently they hit it off during the arrest.”

“Marries the girlfriend? Apparently so, but this doesn’t sound all that sinister to me.”

“But what if that kid she had isn’t his.”

Now maybe it was a little more interesting, but still
 …

“That is why God invented the paternity test.”

“The kicked-to-the-curb boyfriend agrees to one according to Danni. His father says no to the test on his behalf through a dozen lawyers. No dice, no thank you. Go fuck yourself. Someone is delusional, this is not his baby.”