She was used to asking questions and so was he, but apparently neither of them appreciated answering any of them. She looked out the big window over the sink and obviously thought it over. “I’m not sure. I’m curious, like you. I want to help people stay away from their problems.”
“Impossible.”
“Okay, that makes me more optimistic than you.”
“Is this a contest? The people who need me are all dead. At least yours are alive. Of course you are more optimistic.”
She wasn’t able to come up with an easy response to that one, so there was a pause. “Good point.”
“I’m not for understanding the enemy, just catching them.”
“Fair enough.”
The doorbell rang then and it was their food being delivered, so that ended the discussion. She ate with predictable decorum and at a leisurely pace, so he did too, but usually he didn’t think about the enjoyment because it was just necessary fuel.
They did the dishes together, and when her elbow bumped his she said very matter-of-factly, “You want me to stay the night. I’m considering it.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Body language, for one. You haven’t done a lot of deep looking into my eyes. You want something but aren’t sure how to ask.”
She was completely right. He was always amazed how women could read men so much better than men could read women. He’d been looking definitely at other parts of her. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
“I don’t think kissing is really what’s on your mind.”
She was spot on there too. “Well, it could be involved in the equation.”
“You aren’t my patient.”
“I’m not. You aren’t a suspect either.”
“So we’re free to do what we want.”
“Stay then?” Since she’d been so forthright, maybe he should be too.
“I want to and I don’t usually take chances like this.”
If she thought he didn’t know that about her, she wasn’t paying attention. He tried to sound neutral. “If you choose to stay, that would be great. If you don’t, then that’s your decision. It’s up to you. I haven’t opened the pool quite yet since I’m a Memorial Day kind of man, but let’s go sit out on the patio because this is really a nice night for this time of year.”
“Good idea.”
It was starry and tranquil, and he was definitely a creature of habit and had to consciously relax. It had been a problem his entire adult life.
Georgia was a decisive person; he knew that from working with her on a professional level. She sat down in a deck chair and once again crossed those long legs and looked at him very directly. “I vote stay.”
“That’s my vote too.”
She tilted her head back to look at the sky. “It is a really beautiful night.”
He couldn’t agree more.
* * *
Ellie got off the phone and sighed in relief. She knew she was tense over about a dozen things, not the least of which was one Detective Jason Santiago. Good news was most welcome, she thought as she settled in her comfortable living room. The only things she’d brought from her house up north in Lincoln County were some framed photographs, a needlepoint pillow her grandmother had given her when she was twelve, and her clothes. The furnishings were all new, but neutral. Beige couch and a matching chair. Nice polished coffee table, but the only personality was the selection of books she’d stacked there. She refused to part with that northern house for reasons she was still trying to figure out. Maybe she clung to it so tenaciously because it reminded her of where she grew up, which was certainly not a city, but it could be because her father had written her a check for the down payment and informed her with that smile she missed every single day that she’d better not even think about paying it back. So instead she paid rent in Milwaukee and kept the house up north in the woods.
She drank her tea with true enjoyment. Remission was a wonderful word. Her mother had sounded great. Her CT scan had come back clean, and both Ellie and her sister, Jody, had been worried but not talked too much about it. Breast cancer was definitely a wake-up call.
So was her next call.
“Hi. Is this Cinderella?”
A pleasant voice, calm, definitely male, tenor not bass, and completely without inflection.
There was a split second of confusion before she realized it was him. She dealt with killers, but the personal call was jarring.
He went on, “I wanted to know if you liked the flowers.”
She found her voice. “I don’t recognize you or the number. Who is this?”
“I have your missing shoe.” He hung up.
She stared at the display that said Unknown Number, wondering what she could have done differently, or said differently … but she’d been definitely taken off guard.
Missing shoe. From the first victim. Cinderella?
She immediately called Jason, her hand not quite steady. The man didn’t sleep anyway as far as she could tell. “I think he just called me.”
“Who?” He did drink and sounded like he might have actually dozed off.
“Our good friend who likes parks. I’m going to guess you’ll agree it was him.”
He did come out of it fast. The volume of the television went down abruptly. “What?”
She wasn’t happy either. “A man called me and asked how I liked the flowers. I asked who he was and then he pretty much hung up on me. He also mentioned the shoe. When I answered the call he asked if I was Cinderella.”
“He what? I knew it. Shit, Ellie, he’s really bad news. I’m on my way over.”
“Not necessary, since I have a gun and am trained in how to use it. I just thought you’d like to know.”
“I’m coming over. Don’t shoot me, please.”
“I would aim to maim out of our alliance to each other, to not kill, if that makes you feel any better.” It was easier to joke about it all than to acknowledge she was rattled. This man had an agenda she didn’t understand quite yet.
Santiago was abrupt. “Either way, please hold your fire. You can’t stop me. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He truly arrived in record-breaking time and she heard the actual shriek of his tires as he pulled into her driveway. Her condo wasn’t very far from his apartment building, but still he must have broken a few laws. He had on shorts, which was a little optimistic, because it was still cool at night, and a Packers T-shirt that looked like he’d pulled it out of a laundry bag. He did, however, when she opened the door to let him in, seem perfectly clear-eyed and sober.
“Tell me about it, word for word. Let me venture a guess, a blocked number.”
He was right, of course.
“Yes. I was having a cup of tea. Would you like some?”
He looked at her like she was insane. “Tea? What is this? Buckingham Palace? Do I seem like a tea sort of guy? I need to grow a bushy beard or something if I’m giving off that vibe.” He pointed at a backpack he’d brought inside with him and set on the floor. “I have beer. None of it is cold, but I’m not picky. Help yourself if you want some because it still has to be better than tea. I’m sleeping on your couch, by the way. Now tell me what he said exactly.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She wasn’t as sure as she sounded.
He sat down on the couch. “My ass is planted here until we figure out this guy. His exact words were what?”
“‘I wanted to know if you liked the flowers.’” She sat down and picked up her cup. “Nothing ominous, necessarily, but he hung up on me. It could be not connected at all to the murders, just some strange guy, if it wasn’t for the shoe thing.”
“It bothered you enough you called me.”
That she couldn’t deny. “What was the purpose of it?”
Santiago fished in the backpack and got a beer and popped it open. “To make sure he has your attention.”
“He has it already if he’s killed two people.�
�
“You and I are thinking along the same lines. That’s why I’m going to sleep on your couch. I prefer your bed, but hell, don’t worry about it. I fall asleep on my couch most of the time anyway, so don’t feel bad.”
He probably did, but she wasn’t quite convinced yet it was necessary to have a sleepover, and as usual, she wasn’t going to respond. “You didn’t need to rush over here, but since you are here, fine, let’s consider the evidence. Wait, we don’t have any.”
“I do sarcasm a lot better than you. I would have said we don’t have jack shit.”
“Of course you would.”
“I’m more of a realist.”
“Than me? How so?”
“I have no shyness in how I express myself.”
That was so true she practically fell on the floor laughing. “No, you don’t. You are a free spirit. So what now?”
“We’re in a good place. He wants to talk to you.”
“Oh, lucky me.”
Santiago looked serious. “I mean it. He’s killed two people, or maybe three, and we’re sitting around scratching our heads and suddenly he calls. I wasn’t in doubt we’d ever catch him, but this is not going to be nearly as hard as I thought it would be.”
That voice on the phone, so measured and self-assured … she wasn’t as sure. “I don’t think I agree. He’s sure he’s smarter than we are.”
“Maybe.” At least he was willing to see her perspective. “I don’t think anyone is smarter than I am, so what about the notes on the bodies?”
Funny. “Like with the flowers. He was just showing off.”
“Ellie, he’s into you.”
She was afraid he was right. “I recognized his voice from somewhere. Maybe I arrested him at one point.”
“Oh seriously? He’s not going to have revenge on his mind if that’s true. I’m glad you have a comfortable couch, because I’ve found my home away from home right here until we put on the cuffs.”
“I didn’t invite you.”
“I didn’t ask.”
She’d noticed that. He amended, “I’m truly not asking to sleep in your bed. I just want to be here in case something happens. It makes sense to me. I can sleep on my couch or sleep on yours. Why not here? Now you have backup, and I want you to have backup.”
“I don’t think I’m in danger of any kind, but go ahead and sleep on my couch.”
“Detective MacIntosh, yes, you do want backup.”
“He was creepy,” she admitted. “I am not a woman who says that often, but he did it on purpose. It wasn’t anything he said, but I could tell he was trying to intimidate me. He was also deliberately disguising his voice.”
“So now I really do have a new home away from home.”
It was comforting to see him sit back and sip from his beer can, and she could swear she was the last person who needed comfort of that kind. “Why is it I think you’ll be snoring and I’ll have to protect you? That’s what’s going to happen. I clearly remember having to haul you into a boat one time to keep you from drowning.”
“That was a fluke.” He lifted an index finger. “I have stood between you and a serial murderer and arsonist.”
“And you got shot twice. Metzger was all over me for letting my partner be in harm’s way. Don’t make that a feather in your cap. I took off my shirt to staunch the bleeding.”
“Oh, and I remember that moment. Do people even really say that, and what the hell does it mean? A feather in your cap?” He negligently crossed his ankles. “I have no feathers and it doesn’t bother me to be featherless. I don’t even have a fucking cap. What kind of cap are they talking about? Please not one of those poofy things you see in old paintings. I would look so stupid in one of those. Everyone does.”
“I wasn’t aware you even looked at paintings.”
“The dogs playing poker is my favorite.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, and you so think you’re funny and you so aren’t.”
“And yet you’re laughing.”
“I was picturing you in the hat with the feather.”
“Please tell me you have an extra pillow.”
She wanted him there. It would be unfair not to admit it. Ellie nodded. “I do. Let me go get it. Feel free to turn on your baseball game. I didn’t even know it was that season yet.”
“I have it recorded. It’s my go-to if there’s nothing else on. I’ll just stream it from my phone.”
Ellie did have to turn, gazing at him from across the room. “Seriously? You’d watch a game when you already know how it ends?”
“Seriously. Ever watch a movie twice or read a book more than once?”
There were some arguments just not worth it. She was going to lose this one. As a teenager she’d read Gone With the Wind probably fourteen times. “Let me go get that pillow.”
Chapter 8
She’d slept alone.
He wasn’t positive before now, but it calmed him to know. He needed it. In college he’d gone through a phase and continually watched a girl he’d noticed in his English class, but that had finally faded because he lost interest.
This wasn’t going to go away.
He disliked the term “obsession,” but he’d looked it up anyway in the dictionary. The state of a person vexed or besieged.
He wondered if either description applied.
No, he decided, he was simply fascinated.
Obsession implied imbalance, and he was completely balanced and in charge.
* * *
Jason did something he almost never did. He voluntarily went to see Metzger.
The chief was on the phone and yet looked as astounded to see him as he was when he’d decided to do it in the first place. Metzger actually ended the call abruptly and asked, “What now?”
Jason decided in the chief’s defense that he was used to people coming to him with problems, and he wasn’t actually any different. In this case, though, it was warranted. “I think the killer in our current case is contacting MacIntosh.”
“Fine, good, I’m sure you’ll catch him faster.”
His thoughts exactly, though “good” didn’t describe it. “Not good. I think it’s personal.”
Metzger rubbed his temples. “Why do you always give me a headache?”
“Sir, all of us give you a headache.”
“Truer words never spoken. If I made more money, I’d consider moving to Bali, where I hear all the women want to do is rub your back and bring you tropical drinks. Fine, go on and tell me why this impacts my day.”
“Speaking on the subject, I want to take a week of my vacation. I’m worried about her.”
“Vacation? For what? To follow MacIntosh around riding a white horse and in a suit of armor?”
It was close enough to the truth, Jason couldn’t really deny it. He still gave it a try. “We often have different days off. I just—”
Metzger was who he was. He never gave a quarter. “You’re her partner, but you also have a thing for her. I see it and pretty much so does everyone else. The answer is no. You’re with her practically every minute of the day anyway. If she needs to buy a tomato at the grocery store, you don’t need to be lurking in the produce aisle just in case our perp leaps out from a pile of lettuce.” The chief sighed. “Look, if you didn’t work so well together, I’d just assign you each different partners. Do what you do best and find him. Ellie carries a Glock, and it is common knowledge she can use that gun. She’s all good. The sentiment is admirable, but unneeded. If you’re aware, she’s aware. Put in for vacation when you can go lie on a beach in Bali for that lotion and drink therapy and let me know if it is all it’s cracked up to be. Right now the most effective thing you can do is solve the case.”
“You were in the military. If there’s one thing you learn it’s that anyone can be caught off guard.”
“MacIntosh would not appreciate we are even having this discussion, would she? Get the hell out of my office, please. If you think you have paperwork to ca
tch up on, try being me.”
Jason knew when to give up.
Well, that was a bust.
He wasn’t adverse to arguing, but with Metzger it was dicey. He went back to his desk, and to his surprise he got a call from, of all people, his mother. They really only barely knew each other.
“How are you?” Her voice was as always calm but guarded. They’d made their peace of sorts, but since they hadn’t seen each other for over a quarter of a century before coming face-to-face again, it wasn’t a perfect situation. They spoke occasionally now.
“I’m fine. Working a case that isn’t exactly pleasant, but then again, none of them are.”
“I imagine not in homicide.”
“How are you and your husband?”
“Jason, he’s your father.” Gentle admonishment was in her reply.
“It’s kind of hard to think of him that way, but I’ll take your word for it the one that raised me was the lesser of two evils. What’s on your mind?”
“We all choose our own path.”
She was the queen of that statement, that was for sure. He decided to not point it out. In truth, she seemed like a nice enough woman, if misguided.
“I wonder if you’d do me a favor.”
He tilted his chair back on two legs and blew out a breath. “Let me guess, he’s back in jail and you want to see if I can pull some strings to help him out.” His father’s family’s ties to organized crime was the main reason they didn’t know each other. It wasn’t going to happen.
She said, “Not at all. I want to invite you to dinner. It bothers him that he doesn’t know you. That’s the favor. Just come have a meal with us.”
That was an unexpected twist to his day. He really was at a loss for words. He was fairly sure his mouth was hanging open, so he consciously shut it.
“You can bring a date if you’d like. It’s a fairly long drive. You decide and I’ll send a text to confirm and you can say if it will work for you. I was thinking Friday.”
Processing this was harder than processing a gruesome crime scene.
“Jason?”
“I guess that would be okay.” He said it in a feeble voice and cleared his throat. Had he really just agreed? This woman had turned her back on her child but explained why she’d left. She claimed it was to protect him from being dragged into a circle of unsavory friends and family to inherit a legacy of crime that was traditionally passed from father to son. He was unimpressed with the argument initially, but there was no doubt now that he’d heard the story his biological father had spent time in prison because those records were public. Maybe she’d been right to just leave her child where he was—it was damned hard to say. It seemed to him her choice in men was dicey at best, but a small sliver of him—paper thin but there—wanted to believe her motivation was his best interest.
Crushed Page 7
