Crushed

by Kate Watterson

  Her partner had suggested an English pub that was in a neighborhood full of shops and seemed so unlike him she was surprised, but also not in the mood to cook either. She managed to find a parking space, which wasn’t easy and involved someone leaving at just the right moment in a BMW. She nabbed the spot and saw Jason’s truck several spaces down.

  At the moment she was pretty convinced they were on a date. It wasn’t like they hadn’t eaten out together dozens of times, gotten coffee, and had slept in relatively the same space, but he wouldn’t have normally chosen this place with an elaborately trendy facade and a hostess dressed like an eighteenth-century barmaid. In the background they were playing a ballad that involved a lute when she walked through the door.

  Not at all his style, since he was more like rock bands with no stringed instruments except electric guitars in sight.

  Date.

  She told the hostess, “I’m meeting someone. Tall man with curly blond hair. I’m guessing jeans and a denim shirt.”

  The woman pointed. “Over there. Second booth.”

  “Thanks.”

  Santiago did the usual and stood when she approached. She wanted to ask him to quit that, but everyone was the sum of their parts, and he might be profane in a million ways, but would always pull out her chair. He waited for her to sit down before he slid back into the booth and went straight to the point. “I ordered you some sort of white wine thing. How did the interview go?”

  “About like anyone could expect. Please tell me it’s chardonnay.”

  “I just said dry. The waitress asked what kind and I did my best. That’s all I know. Nothing helpful from today?”

  “No. Be happy you skipped it, though. The father is hovering on the edge and the mother is pregnant with a long-expected second child but just lost her first one. Not my favorite day ever. I never even spoke with her. It wasn’t great.” It had been heart-wrenching.

  “I was happy to skip it before you ever walked out the door.”

  “Let’s just talk about it later.”

  Their drinks arrived, a lager for him, and what seemed to be her first lucky break all day was that her wine was chardonnay.

  She waited to tell him about the picture. A nice dinner without discussing it would give them both a respite. She’d tell him later, of course, and get his take on it, but for now she’d listen to the lute music and sip a glass of wine and pretend a killer wasn’t stalking her.

  “How’s your sister and the new baby? It was her third, right?” He asked it very casually, as if that was normal conversation for them.

  It wasn’t.

  Definitely a date.

  “She has her hands full, that’s for sure. I believe she said flat out that she wouldn’t mind going back to work soon so she didn’t see visions of cartoons in her dreams. Apparently she can sing all the songs from The Little Mermaid by heart, and can give lessons on how discreet breastfeeding in public is possible.”

  “Those are some marketable skills right there. I’ve been to her house because of the thing with your grandfather, but really didn’t meet her. What’s she do?”

  He had been with her when they stopped by Jody’s one time after a skeleton had been found on her grandfather’s property.

  “Marketing. Do you have a fever or something?” Ellie couldn’t help it. “You haven’t said one swear word yet. Stop freaking me out.”

  “I’m trying to be polite and make small talk. That’s what it’s called, right?”

  It was time to skip back to common ground. “Our killer, if it is him, left me another present. A picture of black roses propped against my door. Maybe forensics can lift a print. He must have downloaded it, so that might be a lead. Black roses can’t be all that popular. If he paid for it online we could track him down.”

  “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

  She took another sip of wine. “Now I feel better and like I’m talking to the real Jason Santiago. No, not kidding. He was at my house again.”

  He absently took a piece of bread and ate it, obviously thinking it over. “I don’t normally plan to shoot people, but he’s number one on my shortlist. There wasn’t a note?”

  “No.”

  “What did Grasso say?”

  “He wasn’t there.”

  “You were with him. You didn’t say anything about going to your house alone.”

  “I happen to be a grown woman.”

  “I’ve noticed. Don’t do that again until we fix this. He could have been lurking in the shrubbery … oh hell, do people even say shrubbery? He could have been anywhere. Jesus, Ellie. A grown idiot.”

  “As far as I can tell, he was long gone.”

  She wasn’t as calm as she sounded. It was one thing to track down killers, but another to have them tracking you down. Her intent was to keep them from killing more people by arresting them and their intent was to make sure that arrest never happened.

  This was different.

  “Ellie, he’s in your face.”

  “We’ve had this conversation.” She opened her menu. “I’m thinking of being boring and having fish-and-chips.”

  “Shepherd’s pie for me and don’t deflect.” His eyes held a stubborn glint of reproof.

  She looked at him directly right back. “Am I bothered? Yes. Let’s let it go for a few minutes. I really think this person wants my attention and I don’t want to give it to him one hundred percent of the time. That’s a transfer of power. I want to eat dinner and not think about him.”

  He didn’t concede easily, but agreed. “Fair enough.”

  “You are too high strung. I bet if Georgia were here she’d say you want him to try something so you’d have an excuse to just wipe him out.”

  “High strung makes me sound like a lady who would faint in one of those novels you read. I want to stop him, and if that means dead in his tracks, well, let’s face it, he’s asked for it.”

  * * *

  He really did want to just wipe him out.

  Gone. Refuse off the face of the earth. He wasn’t a stranger to vigilante justice.

  The food was really good and the place wasn’t his usual, but Jason had to admit his taste tended toward a burger at some bar. However, he’d allow her a quiet dinner, even if it was an effort to rein it in. At least the food was delicious.

  “I’m thinking of moving to England and taking up sheep farming,” he said after the last bite. “Maybe you could come along and be my serving wench.”

  Ellie had gradually relaxed during the meal, and she laughed. “You wish. I’d just pour the ale over your head. Besides, I don’t think you farm sheep. You raise them. It really was good. Not a bad diversion from our current problem.”

  “Also no grocery store and no stove involved. Ellie, I know you don’t want it, but I think we made a good call asking to put a security camera on your front porch. He’s paid a couple of visits now.”

  So much for leaving the job out of it.

  “He’ll expect it.”

  She could be right. He still argued. “It might discourage unwanted deliveries and we could get a visual.”

  “He’ll just change tactics. I think he’ll choose another park too.”

  The music switched to bagpipes right about the time the check arrived and he quickly handed over his credit card. He could handle most music, but not bagpipes or opera. Every man had his limits. “I wish I didn’t agree with you, but I do. He’s going to hit again.”

  “I just wish we knew his direction. He’s a wild card.”

  Luckily the waitress returned with his receipt quickly. This discussion was ruining the ambience of the evening pretty fast. He scribbled in the tip and then suggested, “We can head for my place. If you insist on going home I’ll have to bring my sleeping bag and crash on your porch.”

  “Your place is a good plan.” Her brows lifted as she got out of her seat. “You have a sleeping bag?”

  “No, I was showing off. Camping isn’t my thing.”

  �
�That makes more sense to me. I’m not much into camping either, but I do like the serenity of the woods. A hot cup of coffee sitting on the dock listening to the loons on the lake with the mist drifting over the water … there’s nothing better.”

  He could picture her there sipping from a mug on a cool day, feet up. “I’m going to have to take your word on that one. I like a window with a view and SportsCenter playing in the background on the TV while I drink beer on the couch. Shall we go?”

  She didn’t argue, which was unusual in their relationship. This was getting to her and he understood, since it was getting to him too. He wasn’t used to a killer tracking a police officer. Usually it was the other way around.

  She nodded. “Thanks for dinner. It was … nice.”

  Nice. Well, he supposed she was right. It had been nice, but he wasn’t positive nice had been his goal. He wasn’t even sure he’d had a goal other than food.

  Not true. He just plain had a bad premonition about how this was going to play out and he wasn’t going along with it. Ellie wasn’t safe by herself. He’d known some fallen officers. Every single one of them was competent and capable. No one could handle every contingency.

  He held the door for her and kept it open for two middle-aged ladies with shopping bags who thanked him with bright smiles. “I want to see this picture,” he declared darkly as they walked across the parking lot. “I bet he didn’t sign it just because it would directly tie him to the murders.”

  “I expect you’re right there. At the moment we still can’t link the phone calls and flowers to the murders.”

  “We both know it’s him, Ellie. I’m more bugged than ever. If you’d argued over our destination I’d have had to go all caveman or something and cuff you and sling you over my shoulder.”

  The breeze had picked up and there was a hint of rain in the scent of the air. “Kidnapping is a federal offense, may I remind you, Officer Santiago.” She pushed a button on her key chain to unlock her car. “But I’m still craving that good night’s sleep, and the idea of someone crouching in my—what is it, shrubbery?—watching me turn off the lights doesn’t help that. So fine, it’s your place again.”

  “Well, shit, I was looking forward to cuffing you and you just ruined it. Give me a break, everyone has fantasies.”

  “Just don’t share yours, please. I doubt at even my advanced age I’m old enough to hear about them. I’ll meet you there.”

  He was smiling when he got into the truck because he’d just won what he’d worried might be a serious argument. Independent was an understatement when it came to Ellie. That smile faded when he thought about that picture. Metzger was wrong. Yes, she could take care of herself, but this was some scary shit.

  The cameras might help, or maybe it would just make the guy adjust his strategy.

  This deviant was sending her flowers and leaving them on her doorstep. Black roses weren’t exactly a positive message.

  She just wasn’t going to be out of his sight at this point and they were going to fight about it. Ellie might cooperate now, but she wasn’t going to stay that way. He didn’t blame her. Life needed to return to normal so she could go back to the regular pattern.

  Without anyone else being part of the problem.

  His apartment was quiet and dark, which he fixed quickly by turning on all the lights. Ellie followed him in, and by the way she glanced around he could tell she wasn’t quite settled. This was an unusual case and he got it. “He isn’t here, and if he was, I’d know it, but let me look around,” he said, and meant it.

  It was hardly a palace, so it didn’t take long. “We’re good.”

  He bolted the door, and as a precaution, even checked the balcony. Nothing but the cheap beach chair he’d bought to sit in on warm summer nights and his small folding table. He went back inside. “I think there’s still some of that wine you brought over in the fridge. I know I haven’t touched it. Now that I don’t have to drive anywhere, I’m going to have another beer. I can scrounge up a clean glass.”

  “No need. I think I’m going to call my mother, just to check in on her, and then I’m going to sleep.”

  At that moment her phone rang. She took it out of her purse and swore softly. “Blocked number. I think I know who this is. Our good friend.”

  Jason wished they really knew who it was because that would make the case a lot simpler. “Answer it. Or let me.”

  “I’ll do it. Detective MacIntosh.” Ellie was brusque and professional.

  It was frustrating to not be able to hear anything but one side of the conversation.

  “Yes, I did receive your gift.”

  He was on his phone in a second. “I need a trace right now to this number.” He reeled off Ellie’s cell as fast as possible.

  No dice. His partner said in resignation, “Good try. He hung up.”

  He still had forensics on the other line. “Is there a way we can trace all calls to that number? I don’t need a report on every single one, but can we nail the ones that count by location, and that means Milwaukee? This is part of a homicide investigation. I’ll get you the server and account information.”

  Ellie glared at him. “Hey. My phone.”

  He pressed a button and was unrepentant. “Good idea?”

  “Oh. I love the idea of someone monitoring my calls.”

  “Incoming calls. Did you enjoy this last one?” he asked pointedly.

  The answer was no. He could tell. She was definitely at least a little pale.

  “So let’s find where he’s coming from. We can’t get a straight trace, since he’s not using his phone anyway, but we can maybe get a general idea of what part of the city he haunts.”

  She pointed out, “This is a big city. All he has to do is call from somewhere and drive away. I just don’t see how it will help us or I would have suggested it the minute he called me Cinderella because of the missing shoe.”

  Jason shrugged. “Look, the more information we have, at least in my opinion, the better.”

  “I’ve dealt with a lot of criminals and he’s … different.”

  Jason was cautious usually about touching her for several reasons, one of which was he’d told her straight up how he felt about her, another that he was aware they had a professional relationship and there were boundaries, but he did reach out and take her hand to tug her toward the couch. “Call your mother. I’m going to get my beer. Sure about that glass of wine?”

  Chapter 15

  He was running late. It was annoying because he’d hear about it, but he’d make up something about a flat tire or small fender bender. No one at work would, or even could, check that out.

  Maybe that he was behind schedule would be noted, but not in connection to the real reason.

  What a good morning.

  It hadn’t been as easy as the others. She’d been a smart cookie, as his grandmother would say, and knew full well he didn’t like her and never had. There was no friendly drink, there was no pleasant conversation, and there certainly was no joy in her expression when she’d glanced up and seen him standing by her car.

  It had been very satisfying to see the one person who had always seen right through him panic and try to run. She couldn’t, though, the old bitch; she was too heavy. He caught her in about three strides and then it was over. Not done, though; he’d worked pretty hard to haul her into her car and fumble through her purse for her keys.

  He was happy to see she was still breathing.

  Not for long.

  * * *

  Ellie woke up, took a shower—his shower was clean for a bachelor—and prepared for her day. As far as she could tell, Santiago didn’t sleep much at all, so she could already smell coffee as she dried off, did the minimum for her day by just pulling her hair back and touching up with some foundation. She felt out of place, but maybe not as much as she would have expected.

  He was out on the balcony even though it was still very cool in the mornings. There was a clean yellow mug set out with the lo
go Go Hawks. It was a small, thoughtful gesture compared to how he’d insisted on sleeping on the couch, which was therefore between her and the door, which was a big, thoughtful gesture. Iowa Hawkeyes were apparently a college team he favored. Ellie filled her cup, sniffed it, and felt like that was enough caffeine to fuel her for the day.

  * * *

  This morning she was grateful he was sitting there with his long legs propped on a little table, drinking his coffee. She’d always operated on the premise she could deal with almost anything with level calculation, and maybe that was true.

  The man was undeniably considerate at times and rude at other unforgettable moments. It was hard to know how to take him, and she was undecided on how to handle it all.

  Much like the killer.

  At least she’d slept knowing Jason was there.

  She slid open the sliding door to the balcony. “Hi, well, I’m headed to work.”

  He said contemplatively, not even looking over but at the railing, “I think we’re going to have another murder. He talks to you and then kills someone.”

  That did stop her cold. She looked at him reclining in his chair, holding his mug of what seemed to be very strong black coffee. “What makes you think that?”

  “Ellie, he called you last night, and now he’s going to kill someone. There’s a pattern developing.”

  All of this was so appalling she wanted to go hide in a closet somewhere. But she couldn’t discount it either. He knew his job. “All right, talk to me.”

  “This psycho nut job is killing people for you, not just because of you. I still think it is an obsession, but I’m starting to readjust my thinking. He wants to hand you crimes to solve.”

  “Look…” She struggled for words. “I have plenty of work. Don’t we both? Why?”

  “Montoya is wrong. I bet he hates me more than anyone on this earth.” Santiago drank some more toxic coffee, his legs relaxed but the rest of his body tense. “I spend all day with you. I get he wants to shoot back at me. I feel it.”