Buried (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (25 page)

Cool, actually. This was what it was all about.

A twig snapped behind him and he whirled, but he saw the slim silhouette, recognized it, and lowered his weapon. MacIntosh was unmistakable even in the dark, and he nodded as she came around the edge of the building. The glint of her .45 was visible in her hand.

She said one word so hushed he almost missed it. “Where?”

He gestured with his gun to the right.

The soil smelled acrid. He stepped through the wood chips in the decaying mulch in the flower beds, skirted the walk, and ducked back into a corner. She joined him a moment later, and he had to say he admired always that she didn’t see the need to ask a litany of questions immediately, which he found refreshing in a female. Sexist? Maybe, but at the moment he didn’t care.…

It was enough she was a good shot and he knew it.

He held up a finger.
One suspect
. An unspoken message. At least he’d only seen one, but before there had always been two killers.

Ellie nodded, slipping up alongside him.

They’d been in this place before. Stalked and stalking … predators against each other. He leaned in and said next to her ear, “Interesting time of night for slipping through the trees.”

Damn, her hair always smelled good. Like flowers. A strange moment to notice, but he did.

The night breeze whispered past. She murmured, “Got you. Let’s go.”

Jason eased against the siding, knowing he’d have splinters in the morning—provided he lasted that long—and then he rounded the side of the building, gun extended.

MacIntosh shone a powerful flashlight designed to deflect direct vision and the person trapped in the beam whirled around.

A kid. Jason took a second to inhale.
A kid. Holding a fishing pole. Don’t fire.

He could swear the figure he’d seen was a lot taller.…

The pale-faced boy stammered at the sight of their guns, and a bucket in his hand fell with an audible thud, water splashing out of it. “What … what? I’m … I was f-fishing for bullhead. I know the sign said no night fishing … you aren’t supposed to … I’m sorry. I’m sorry, man.”

“Jesus.” Jason lowered his weapon and felt ridiculous. “He’s like … twelve.”

MacIntosh at least had the grace not to laugh. “Tall enough to look like a man. And someone recently blew up your car. Aren’t you cold without a shirt?”

He sent her a derisive look. “Pretty cold, yes. I don’t think he is who I saw.”

“You aren’t jumping at shadows?”

“I might be, but—”

The first shot was surreal. It actually brushed her hair, the smooth strands moving in a linear motion as the bullet thudded into the building. Jason registered what was happening and shouted to the kid, “Down.”

The kid with the jigs and the pole was faster than he was, dropping flat. The second bullet nicked Jason’s arm. Older, wiser, and he now understood that particular burning sensation, he plunged downward next to an already prone Detective MacIntosh. The walk was cold and smelled vaguely of old, wet leaves.

“Where are they?”

“I can’t see anyone.” Blood was seeping out of his bicep but he could still use his arm. Not broken. That was something anyway.

She said, “You okay? I think you’re bleeding.”

“I know I’m bleeding,” he responded furiously. “I can’t fucking believe I’ve been shot again. Metzger is never going to let me off medical leave. Just wait until I find the son of a bitch.”

*   *   *

The term “hell in a handbasket” seemed appropriate.

Quite frankly, she had no idea what a handbasket was, but hell was another story.

Hell, currently, was lying on her stomach outside an old motel in rural Wisconsin, with nothing but a coat thrown over her sweatpants and T-shirt, barefoot, weapon drawn, with no target because it was so dark if a person was in hiding, and so light otherwise because of the moon. Some sort of plant was tickling her nose but she was a little afraid to raise her head in case she drew more fire.

Ellie had no idea where the shooter might be. Obviously Santiago was hit, and there was a civilian—a child no less—in the mix. That was a law-enforcement nightmare.

It really wasn’t a surprise, but her partner knew swearwords she didn’t even know existed. A steady stream of them came from his mouth, albeit under his breath as he rolled to his side, leaving a glossy trail of blood across the mulch and rocks. The full moon was pretty, but unfortunately it illuminated the scene a little too well.

“Where is he?” she asked urgently, waving a leaf out of her face. “Any idea?”

“He? Could be some bloodthirsty female. I think you just discriminated against my gender.” The way the words came, it sounded like her partner was gritting his teeth. “Hey, kid, stay down,” he shouted, but it probably wasn’t necessary since doors were opening in the units around them, lights popping on behind the curtains.

Ellie rose up cautiously. She’d scraped her knee, or something had happened, because it throbbed. “He’s got to be running.”

“There you go again.” Santiago caught her arm and jerked her down against him. “No. Give it a minute. Let’s get our bearings. We have no idea where the shooter is, and if it is the guys we are looking for, there are two of them. I knew snipers in the military that could take out a target at a pretty impressive range.”

That was not necessarily good news. “We have a lot of civilians to consider.”

“Yeah, well we might want to consider ourselves too.” There was a sheen of sweat on his face; she could see it glisten in the moonlight. His arm tightened like a steel band around her waist and she could feel the warm seep of blood from his wound through her clothing. “This is not the time to go all hero cop, Ellie. They want me, and probably you too, and all these people around will cramp their style. Stay put for a minute while we decide what to do.”

Staying put was not really an option. For one thing, he was bleeding enough she was concerned and she was fairly sure—but only fairly—that whoever had planned on the ambush was right now figuring out how to escape.

“Police officer,” she said loudly. “Can someone dial 911?”

“I already did.” It was the kid, prone in a bed of mums just beginning to go brown. “It’s an app on my phone.”

“Thanks,” She meant it. They could use backup.

“Listen,” Santiago said urgently, getting to his feet next to her and pulling her up with surprising strength for a man who had just been shot. “Over there. I can hear them. They’re running. Come on.”

There was a reason people were afraid of the dark, Ellie decided as they sprinted toward the parking lot. For one thing, it was cool, and even with the moon, murky under the trees.

There was also a choice they seemed to blithely skip by in the movies. Running full out required that a weapon be dangerous in your hand, or holstered, and neither was conducive to much in the way of speed, and in Ellie’s case, she was barefoot.

Somewhere a car door slammed and an engine gunned.

Her partner outdistanced her, wound and all, by at least a hundred feet to the parking lot, mostly because it wasn’t paved and the gravel hurt her feet.

The car was just backing up, brake lights flashing, and she had the slightest glimpse of a face as the man turned and reversed with a vengeance that caused gravel to spurt loudly. The car narrowly missed the back bumper of a small compact.

“Stop!” Santiago hesitated only about one second before he fired, ostensibly at the tires, but despite the full moon it was hard to get a perspective. As she ran up, the car lurched into forward motion, the lights from the headlights swinging across the woods as they sped out of the parking lot onto the small county road that led toward the highway.

“License plate,” he said and took off on foot again, as if he could catch an SUV …

There were three deer, faithful citizens of the state of Wisconsin, infamous for their tendency to be startled by passing cars, causing unfortunate collisions of nature and machine.

Ellie just caught a flash of gray first, a ghost of a fast-moving shadow, and then there was the screech and thud. The second animal ran full on into the side of the car, which had swerved enough to clip a white pine and then skidded sideways, half off the road, the first deer on the hood, still kicking. The sound of breaking glass and the groan of crushed metal signaled it had not been a light accident.

There was a third deer, bewildered, hesitant at the edge of the woods, that stood stock still as if it didn’t want to abandon its fallen comrades, but then took one look at the bloodstained man dashing up with a gun and turned and leaped gracefully back into the woods.

She would have run too.

It had happened within the space of about two minutes.

“Get out of the car, motherfucker,” Santiago yelled, gun leveled as he circled the side of the car. In the silvery light, the dark river down his arm and smeared on his chest looked barbaric. “Out! I’ll shoot you through the glass.”

The airbags had deployed on both sides, giant puffs obscuring the front of the car.

The passenger-side door opened and a man slid out, chest heaving, onto the pavement. The suspect had blood on his face, but as far as Ellie could see, everyone around her had blood pouring all over the place and the shock effect was gone.

“I’ll get the driver.” Santiago was on his way, his voice sharp.

“Go carefully. Hands where I can see them,” she said sharply to the man on the road. “I’m a police officer, but I think you already know that.”

Not a minute later, in the act of cuffing the injured suspect, she heard the shots. Two of them.

Ah, no
.

This night just kept getting better and better.

When she got around the back of the car she saw that her partner had hauled the second man out of the vehicle, which was currently at a skewed angle with the headlights crazily pointed about forty-five degrees upward, the buckled hood decorated with what seemed to be a full-grown buck, antlers and all.

Santiago had his weapon pressed to the man’s temple, his knee in the middle of his back. She didn’t catch all of it, but just bits as she ran up.

“… not in a good mood right now. Get that? Nod if you do. Move otherwise and I’ll just blow you away.”

Splayed on the ground on the side of the narrow road, the man grunted, probably in direct response to the pressure of Santiago’s weight. Dark haired, Ellie registered, and dressed in a Windbreaker—also dark—and his hands were pale against the pine needles scattered everywhere. “Hey … Okay,” she said in an attempt to at least diffuse some of the potential violence. “We got them. Relax a little. I think enough people have been shot lately, let’s break the trend.”

Jason glanced up at her, but his eyes looked unfocused. “These two are probably the ones who targeted three good cops. If I killed this asshole right now, would you tell anyone?”

The question stopped her cold, the woods around them quiet but yet alive, like there were a million listening voices out there, a legion of judgment weighing her answer.

Luckily the sound of sirens in the background spared her the need to respond.

Chapter 23

It was all slipping away.

She could feel it happening, like the sickening roll of a ship in a violent storm. He hadn’t touched her in two weeks now, wouldn’t return her calls, and when she’d finally just gone to his door, his sister had answered and said he was out of town.

The look of disapproval in the other woman’s eyes was duly noted but she didn’t care too much about that. Pride had never been her downfall. There was only one way to truly get what a person wanted in this harsh, unforgiving world, and that was to take it.

“When he returns, tell him I came by with news from Vivian, will you, Mae?”

“You can tell it to me and I’ll relay the message.” She stood here, all high and mighty, blocking the doorway.

The bitch.

She forced away the thought of what she could do. If another woman close to him disappeared …

No, she couldn’t wipe that haughty look from her face permanently, but she would give odds she could shake her. Carefully enunciating the words, she said coolly, “She’s divorcing him. Called me long distance last evening to ask me to break it to him. He’ll get the papers from her lawyer.”

“I am sure you shed some crocodile tears over that news, Helen.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that, Mae, but she’s my friend, and I want her to be happy. Sometimes things just don’t work out, you know.”

Mae MacIntosh said, “You might want to keep that in mind.”

*   *   *

“I shot the
damn deer. Get over it.”

Ellie looked at him like she wanted to strangle him, which Jason might welcome because he hated hospitals. Like he really
hated
hospitals. Stark white walls, that antiseptic smell, the hushed sounds of the shoes of the nurses … Just put him out of his misery now. His partner said accusingly, “All I know is that I was apprehending a suspect and heard two shots. You about gave me a stroke.”

He defended himself gruffly. “That buck was still alive, but I could tell he was really hurt, at least had a broken leg or maybe two … and you know, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Did it?”

“He was suffering, dammit. That was at least a ten-point buck, too. First shot might have gone off a little since I was favoring my left hand. So just to be sure, two shots.”

“That’s your story?”

“MacIntosh, the air bag was in the way. I couldn’t have aimed for the suspect. If one of those bullets hit him, I’d be sorry, of course. Ballistics would show I shot blind through the windshield. If I’d wanted to nail him, I’d have done it from the driver’s-side window. For any injuries he incurred, I am deeply sorry.”

“Neither bullet hit him.”

“Now that’s disappointing to hear.”

“How come I get the impression you cared a lot more about that deer than the man you might have hit?”

“Because you are starting to know me pretty well.” The conversation was mostly for the nurse who unwrapped the bloodstained cloth from his upper arm. Jason asked, “Seriously, no witnesses to them shooting at us?”