Crushed

by Kate Watterson

  “But the police never figured it out.”

  “Exactly.”

  Very slim theory, and it didn’t help them at all.

  “Both Montoya and Lukens might help with this. I’m hesitant to work with anything but solid facts. One name isn’t enough and it doesn’t lead us anywhere.”

  “It’s a thought, though.”

  “This isn’t a novel.”

  “I didn’t think, by the way, homicide detectives are supposed to even have nightmares.”

  “I think we probably have more than the average person. Don’t you?”

  “Oh hell yes,” he admitted ruefully. “It’s usually worse for me when a case is over. My brain decides I should live it all over again just for fun. The Burner case was particularly bad. All I wanted was to dream about blue skies and maybe something like a picnic in a park. Bologna on white bread with mayo like when I was a kid. Now this bastard is going to ruin parks forever for me, so I’m going to have to pick a new theme.”

  “Try puppies frolicking or kittens and a ball of yarn,” she suggested, but she knew what he was talking about all too well. Some images were too haunting to erase. “I think we need to check out this parking lot pretty carefully. For all we know, he anticipated us changing location.”

  Chapter 13

  He used a portable printer and a digital device to enhance the detail and alter the picture. It wasn’t hard—they’d made it easy, actually, and almost ridiculously so.

  It was hard not to laugh.

  He wanted to bury them both to a certain extent, in different ways, but never dreamed it would be so simple.

  Nothing he had to do but install the camera. They’d hung themselves and he didn’t even have to supply the rope.

  That could come later. Zeke had been satisfying, but just practice.

  When they’d left, he could move around without worrying about them hearing him, and he took full advantage of it.

  He loaded the footage up on his computer, watched it, and felt much better

  Nothing had happened.

  * * *

  Carl heard about the smoke bomb through the very tight precinct grapevine. This was heating up—with or without smoke—in his opinion, and he knew Santiago hated family interviews, so he stopped by his desk. “I’m free this morning. Want me to go with MacIntosh instead to interview the family of the latest victim?”

  Santiago looked pretty tired, but still glanced up sharply from concentrating on his computer screen, his blue eyes slightly bloodshot. “Seriously? That would be fine with me. She usually handles the whole thing anyway. I barely survived the interview with his girlfriend. I’m starting to worry I’m a sensitive guy. It’s not true, is it?”

  “I think that worry is unfounded if it makes you feel any better. I’ll go tell her it’s me instead.”

  “I think you just made my day.”

  Ellie was putting on her jacket when he caught her, since the day was cool and rainy as per spring weather, and she lifted her brows. “What?”

  “You’re stuck with me. I’m along for the ride.”

  “That’s fine,” she said immediately. “That’s good. Santiago hates it way too much. His discomfort makes it worse for everyone—including me—and it isn’t pleasant in the first place. He’s good at a lot of different aspects of this job, but not at what we’re about to do. You ready then?”

  “I’m all set.” He wasn’t happy about it either, but he hoped no one got used to it.

  “Offered accepted. Let’s go.”

  Gone was the pretty blonde in the long flowing skirt, the no-nonsense police officer taking her place. Hair in a ponytail, minimum makeup, blue shirt and black slacks. Professional as always when on the job and he respected that. “I’ll drive.”

  “That’s fine.”

  The Grays lived in a neighborhood that consisted of expensive houses that all looked the same with minor differences in decorative shutters and different colored mailboxes. It was moderate affluence at its finest with manicured lawns and sedans and SUVs in the driveways.

  “If I lived here, I’d just jump off a cliff,” he muttered as they pulled up. “After a glass of scotch I wouldn’t be able to find my own house.”

  MacIntosh remarked as she parked, “We can’t all sail away on our yacht. I have a condo that looks exactly like all of the rest of them on the street. You can’t get more generic than that. I do miss my house up north. Let’s go see if they can help us.”

  At first it seemed like no one was home, but finally a man answered the door, and when they produced their identification he turned away for a moment before he composed himself and let them in. He was dressed in pressed khakis and a golf shirt, but it looked like maybe he’d forgotten to shave. He was fairly young to have a college-aged son; late thirties at the most. Mr. Gray said hoarsely, “I haven’t been looking forward to this, so please forgive me. I’m not going to lie, I’m not glad to see you.”

  “We understand.” MacIntosh definitely took lead, and it made sense since it was her case. “No one is ever glad to see us. We’re just here because we are investigating your son’s death and it seems to tie to a series of other homicides. We want to help not just you but other families.”

  “Please feel free to sit down. My wife will not join us. Believe it or not, all these years of trying after Zeke, she’s expecting another baby. I’m doing my best to make sure her inconsolable grief doesn’t result in a miscarriage. She won’t eat. Neither of us can even begin to figure out how to deal with it, but if she loses this baby … well, then whoever did this will have killed both my children.”

  At that point Carl was glad to have Ellie in charge. She said very calmly, “We can just talk to you and you can reassure her we are just trying to piece together what happened and make some sense of it all in a world that doesn’t always make sense. I can’t imagine your loss, but please understand that we don’t want anyone else to feel like you do right now. Talk to us about Zeke’s friends. Do you know someone named Jack?”

  Given something to focus on besides the crime itself, Mr. Gray settled on the edge of a chair. “I don’t think so. Jack? No, it isn’t from high school. Did you ask Ashlie?”

  “We did. She gave us the name.” Ellie made a few notes on her phone. “Anyone else? Maybe someone he ran with now and then? We know he was a jogger.”

  His eyes were shiny with tears. “He mentioned he sometimes ran with someone he’d met. He was very health oriented when it came to fitness.”

  The autopsy revealed Zeke Gray had been hit with a blunt object and was probably unconscious before he was hung. His father was right, he was capable of defending himself, so obviously the attack had taken him by surprise. Carl was forming a deeper picture of the killer and he could see Ellie was doing the same thing.

  “No name?” she asked.

  Mr. Gray shook his head. “I don’t remember. I wish, in retrospect, I’d not adopted the philosophy that he was now an adult and should be able to live his own life without constant probing questions. I’m angry, devastated, and quite frankly, I have lost belief in humanity. We are decent people who raised a good child despite being very young when he came along. He had a nice girlfriend we love and was doing well in college. This is unbelievable. I really still don’t believe it. I don’t know how you do your job, I really don’t.”

  “If you think of anything, please let us know.” She set her card on the coffee table. “We are very sorry for the reason we are here.”

  Carl finally put in a word as they rose. “We’ll get him.”

  When they walked out, MacIntosh said with legitimate censure, “A nice promise I hope we can deliver on. This suspect is a ghost. A nasty, malignant ghost, but he’s so elusive I have no idea where he is or who he is, and I was working it three bodies ago.”

  “If you don’t doubt yourself now and then, you don’t care enough. We’ll get him.” Carl got into the car. “I know it. Smoke bombs and flowers? He thinks he’s ten feet tall. He’s goi
ng to trip and we’ll be there to catch him. He’s too showy. The ones who bury the bodies and fade away are the kind that make you wonder if it will happen. He’s not an easy meet and greet, but he’s not trying to hide. He’s daring us to catch him, and you know, anytime that happens, your shoelaces tangle together.”

  She backed out of the driveway, her expression absorbed as she mused out loud. “He’s young, tall, athletic, and strong or he couldn’t hang a grown man from a tree. He’s a runner and he must be not just personable, but I’m thinking charismatic.”

  “Give me a lever and I can move the world,” Carl said, also contemplating the murder scenario. “With a rope over a branch and some leverage, it could be done, but you’re right, it wasn’t done by some portly guy who eats doughnuts in his cubicle.”

  “I agree he does think he’s ten feet tall. He wouldn’t do it now, but I believe he delivered those flowers himself right to my desk. I’ve viewed that video several times and he’s wearing gloves as he walks up to the front door. He’s been to my house. He’s probably the one that vandalized Santiago’s truck and left the smoke bomb.” She slowed way down as a kid who seemed to be a novice at riding a bike wobbled too close to the edge of the sidewalk.

  “Our real problem is some of those things just could be explained away. Santiago’s truck … well, he’s not the first to get a brick through a window. The smoke bomb at a teacher’s house? That’s maybe his problem because he gave someone a failing grade on a test. The flowers could be because you really do have a secret admirer out there with a crush on you. Maybe the gloves were just not to smudge the vase.”

  “And the bodies with the notes?” she asked as the child decided to get off his bike and wheel it instead back toward his house. “Can you explain those away?”

  “Sure. There’s a very disturbed individual out there who needs our attention.”

  She said quietly, “Oh, he’s got it.”

  * * *

  Georgia wasn’t sure exactly how to handle this session. The dynamics of her relationship with Ellie MacIntosh and Jason Santiago were hardly textbook.

  The latter came into her office and took a chair, but she knew he wouldn’t stay in it for long. As usual, he was forthcoming. “You and Grasso? What’s up with that?”

  “We aren’t here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you.”

  Those direct blue eyes were very direct. “Nothing is that simple. People are people, and while we are going to sit here and talk about what I’m feeling, I also study people, just in a different way. Grant me that. Grasso has a lot of flotsam floating out there. Is that it? What interests you?”

  “Aren’t I the therapist?”

  “He’s a good cop. I trust him. He isn’t a perfect choice, but he’d always be there for you.”

  “Are you counseling me, or am I counseling you, Detective?”

  He then did a Jason Santiago thing and simply put it out there. “I’m not sure which one of us needs it more. Let’s just talk.”

  She still tried to sidestep. “How are things with Ellie?”

  “I’m sleeping on the couch, remember? How are things with Grasso?”

  “I’m not seeing you for therapy.”

  He burst out laughing. “Oh, God help you if you were. That would be perfect. Here’s the sum total of my advice. If life kicks you, get over it.”

  She took something from that and rolled with it. “Is that what you did?”

  To his credit, he did think about it. “As a kid? Sort of. I didn’t have a mother, so soccer games were out of the question. My old man had neither time nor inclination to take me to practices. Not the cards dealt to my table. I accepted it.”

  “Did you want to play soccer?”

  “No. I played football. I walked to practice until I got kicked off the team for getting caught breaking the rules by smoking a little weed. I think that was the day my old man decided as soon as he could do it, I was out the door. He’d been pretty decent when I was playing well. He wasn’t ticked about the pot, he was just mad I got caught. I look back on it and regret being stupid, but we all are from time to time. He was going to show me the front door pretty soon anyway.” He shrugged. “For all I know he did me a favor. I’d already learned a lot about self-reliance from him, so the military was a breeze for me compared to some of the other kids, and we really were still kids, but it was time to grow up fast. He wasn’t a good example; he just didn’t worry about my tender feelings. A drill sergeant was nothing. He was a kind and caring man compared to my father.”

  Georgia had to admit as a psychologist having someone like him as a patient was like wandering through a chocolate shop. He was smart but wary, he didn’t deny his issues, but he didn’t really acknowledge them either, though he clearly knew they existed. While a lot of patients became dependent and needy, trust was off his plate. Maybe he trusted Ellie, but if Georgia had to call it, that was on a professional basis, but emotionally, he was still skirting the edge. He was going to have a problem with total commitment.

  However, he had mentioned the word “love” before.

  Major breakthrough right there. Maybe they needed to address it.

  “Do you want to talk about your personal life?”

  “No man wants to talk about his personal life.” He stirred restlessly, but he did that frequently when they addressed issues that made him uncomfortable. “Thanks for asking. Couch, remember? I’m not sleeping with her.”

  “I wasn’t asking about your sex life, I was talking personal life. You want to sleep with her, I understand that, because any man who is in love with a woman would naturally be interested in sexual intimacy. But have you really asked yourself yet what you want? Is it marriage?”

  That was going out on a limb with someone like Santiago. He was never going to be an easy study. He looked irritated. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A valid one. For instance, children. Small little beings running around with blond hair? Looking like you and Ellie?”

  “Like she’d ever agree to that.”

  “You don’t know she wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t have a high opinion of marriage.”

  Meat and bones right there. “Why?”

  “My parents were married. Yeah, that worked out. My mother walked out the door.”

  “You can’t predicate your life on the mistakes of two other people. Aren’t your biological parents married again now?”

  “Legally? I have no idea.”

  “So you just signed off on it?”

  “Ellie could have probably married Grantham.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “No, but he’s rich and good-looking.”

  “Does that threaten you?”

  That stopped him, but it was just a bump in the road. He really would be hard to handle, so she didn’t envy Ellie. “No. She isn’t in love with him.”

  Insightful, and she agreed. “Is she in love with you?”

  He was Jason Santiago. If this was the old West, he’d have walked down that street for a good old-fashioned gunfight. He shot from the hip always. “She sure doesn’t want to be.”

  “But maybe she is?”

  “How the hell do I know? Ask a question like that of a woman and you might not like the answer. You’re the one that told me she’d talk about it when she was ready, and she isn’t talking about it.”

  “Do you think the professional ramifications are being weighed against the emotional ones? She values you as a partner, and perhaps she doesn’t want to compromise that relationship. For a dedicated police officer, that’s an issue.”

  “I’d ask if she’s said that, but you wouldn’t tell me.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “No, I wouldn’t. I’m asking you if that is what you think.”

  He admitted, “Metzger has made it pretty clear he wouldn’t be happy about it if we had a more personal relationship. Not me and him, but me and Ellie. He does nothing for me, but don’t hurt his feelings by let
ting him know.”

  Georgia did laugh. “Have you decided one way or the other about Jason Santiago’s preferences, setting Metzger’s aside?”

  “I think you expect some answer that includes introspection, and I try hard as hell not to do that.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t always follow positive thought patterns. Your guess is better than mine.”

  Chapter 14

  It had been a misty day with a brisk wind, so he didn’t stand out wearing his hood up to cover his face.

  At some point they’d add cameras to her security system, he knew it. In her shoes, he would.

  So it was easy and he was good at this game, he was discovering. He really wasn’t positive before now he was good at anything in his life. Average at best at wrestling when he’d given it a try, decent grades but no scholarships, and with long-distance running he’d at least found a small niche.

  His parents would have preferred he was the quarterback on the football team, but he recognized that was not his avenue toward fame.

  No question about it, he was much better at this.

  So he dropped off his gift and thought about where he might go next.

  * * *

  Black roses in a vase.

  This time he hadn’t left the blooms, but just a framed picture propped against her front door. Ellie stopped when she saw it, took in a deep breath, and then went around to the garage door. She unlocked it, went inside, and put on gloves to open the front door and pick up the picture, hoping she didn’t smear a clear print, but she’d bet there wasn’t one.

  Smart. Smart. Smart.

  A refrain going on there like a popular song. Just throw in a tune.

  There wasn’t a note, but the message didn’t need one.

  The communication was clear enough. I’m here.

  Security cameras were being installed on her front porch. As luck—bad luck—would have it, there had been a delay, so it wasn’t happening until tomorrow morning.

  The picture went carefully into a plastic bag and she picked out clothes for the next day, texted Santiago she was on her way to the restaurant, and carefully locked the doors and activated the alarm from her phone. It was infuriating to think she felt relieved to safely leave her own house, but she did.