Crushed

by Kate Watterson

  He left it on the nightstand by her bed.

  * * *

  She was right about the meatballs. Jason ate his and the rest of Ellie’s once she was finished.

  Maybe he needed a vacation.

  “I need a glass of wine.” She toed out of her shoes. “And my warm pajamas and fuzzy robe. I told you it would be cold tonight.”

  “I used to ride my bike to school in blizzard conditions. Don’t get all cocky and think Milwaukee boys can’t handle this stuff. My old man forgot to pay the heating bill often enough that I slept with about four extra blankets.”

  “Was it that bad?” Her voice was soft.

  It was the first time she’d ever asked him directly. Jason wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Kate had grilled him on his childhood, Lukens had asked some probing questions, but no one had asked so simply. He shook his head. “It depends on your definition of bad, I guess. He never really intended harm, but did his best as he knew it. I’m going to have a beer. I’ll open the wine.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Subject closed. Good. He found the glasses, thanked the stars above for his cleaning lady, and opened the wine Ellie had brought. When she emerged wearing patterned pajama pants and the famed pink robe, he handed her a full glass. “Don’t worry about a coaster. I never do. I define this place as urban lived in.”

  She settled into a chair. “I chose the condo because I can’t seem to commit yet to living in a city. I’m pretty used to woods and water. And a fireplace. I admit I love a wood fire.”

  “Aren’t there bears? I can picture a hungry one by the woodpile just waiting for me.”

  “You always overestimate how attractive you are. Who says you are invited?”

  “A personal fault, but if I can be excused from the bear camp, I think that shows intelligence instead of conceit.”

  “You can think that.”

  The banter might have gone on except her phone rang. She glanced at it. “Unknown number.”

  “Let me answer it.” He didn’t wait but just took the phone from her hand. “This is Detective Santiago. MacIntosh isn’t available.”

  The bastard hung up. It was her phone, so instead of chucking it against the wall, Jason handed it back. “He didn’t like me on the other end at all. It was him. Just an educated guess.”

  “I’m furious he has my number.”

  “I just hope he isn’t going to kill anyone else as per his usual pattern.”

  “Don’t even say that.”

  “We’re both thinking it now.” He tipped back his beer. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was just the waiting. Until a crime was committed—another one—they could hardly anticipate what the killer would do. He wouldn’t sleep tonight.

  “I have a chair like your couch up north.” Ellie observed it quietly. “It used to belong to my father. Not really ugly but broken in. The good news for you is he spilled beer on it all the time, so don’t feel nervous. He fell asleep watching television, can in hand, because he thought it was so comfortable. My mother wanted to get rid of it because of the memories, so I took it.”

  It was nice to picture that trip, and even better she pictured him going along.

  “I’d settle right in. He sounds like a man after my own heart. If dozing off holding a beer can was an art form I’d be Picasso or da Vinci. I’ve never asked, but what happened to him?”

  “My father?”

  “I’m pretty sure I know what happened to the other two I just mentioned. History was never my strong point, but I paid some attention. Yes, your father.”

  It took a second and another sip of wine. “Heart attack. He was pretty fit too because he loved to play tennis and golf. It came out of nowhere.” Her expression changed just enough Jason could tell the memory was still painful.

  Sentimentality was not high on his skill set list, but he at least understood it to the extent that if he’d had a loving father he expected he would miss him also. “I wish I’d have felt something when I learned the man who raised me passed on to wherever he went. I didn’t care, one way or the other. I thought I should … but I just didn’t, and I finally decided that it didn’t really say anything about me, but sure said a lot about him. We were like wolves, living in the same den. He should have had a plaque that said Stay Out of My Face.”

  Ellie sat up. “Speaking of such things, aren’t we supposed to go to dinner at your mother’s house tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” He tried to sound casual, but then gave up. He was very bad at casual. “Look, I’m not sure I want to know my real father. The man has done prison time. And I’m still pissed at my mother. She’s made some pretty questionable decisions in her life if you ask me. I’m not sure I want to sit all warm and cozy over a hunk of meat loaf with either one of them.”

  “I like meat loaf well enough. Did you ask her what we could bring?”

  “I have no clue what we’re having. I made that up. Ellie, really? I don’t even know these people. I’ll bring beer and you can bring wine. I suspect we’ll both need it.”

  “That’s your call, of course. What does Lukens have to say about it?” Her tone held only neutral inquiry. “Tell me or don’t, that’s also your call. But we are talking about it, so if you want to comment, go ahead.”

  The cozy familiar atmosphere, comfortable couch, the quiet outside was calm and serene and he had a cold drink and a beautiful woman looking at him … if there wasn’t a murderer out there, life would be good, but this wasn’t bad.

  He said, “She doesn’t give opinions too often since she wants you to come up with your own answers. I used to think therapy was pure bunk and maybe it is, but it does make you think out loud.”

  “She’s asks the right questions.”

  “I agree. Ellie, I’m not good at talking about stuff like this.”

  She looked away, accepting the change in subject. “Sorry. I just wanted a break. The average case where they do terrible things and we go find them is bad enough. This is getting to me. He’s … sinister.”

  “Hopefully that last call was traced.”

  “I don’t think it was long enough.”

  “I don’t either.”

  He was so much more comfortable with the case than with talking about his dysfunctional family. He wasn’t even sure he considered them family. “I’m thinking this over and I agree one connection is going to make the dominos fall. This might sound funny, but I honestly think I have a suspect in mind, I just don’t know who it is yet.”

  “That isn’t funny, it’s ridiculous.”

  “Um, can I remind you I don’t have small bleating sheep all over my pajamas? Now that’s ridiculous.”

  “You don’t have on pajamas.”

  “I’m kind of counting on that staying the case and persuading you to take yours off.”

  She didn’t say no or yes, but just took another sip of wine.

  Then Ellie took off her pajamas.

  * * *

  Decisions to be made and she’d already made some of them. Ellie made coffee that would probably not be strong enough for Jason and took it to the chair by the window. The floor was still cold, but the apartment was warm. Sunrise was just glimmering over the tops of the trees and houses.

  Was this just really great sex and for once not being the good girl?

  No, she had to grudgingly admit. How could she like Jason Santiago?

  She did, though. He had an unswerving purpose she related to, and while his methods weren’t always by the book, they were definitely in place for the people he protected.

  She curled her legs under her and looked out at the view, just sipping and thinking about how much the series of murders in Lincoln County had changed her life. If it hadn’t been for the Northwoods Killer case she wouldn’t have been offered the opportunity in Milwaukee or met Bryce Grantham. Quite frankly, if it wasn’t for her, more girls would have tragically disappeared. She’d diligently worked that case from the minute a young Realtor had been reported missing a
t the time and she realized there had been other missing person reports that could be tied together. It had taught her a lot about investigating homicides. She’d been the one to pick up on the pattern, and she’d been the one to hunt down the killer. The case had caught national attention as had several of the cases she’d worked since taking the job in Milwaukee. She’d been contacted by several police departments as a result, but had no desire to leave Wisconsin. If she had, she would have more seriously considered moving to New York with Bryce.

  Maybe. It would have been a bad call in retrospect.

  Bryce was really no longer in the picture, but she’d learned a lot from that experience as well. They’d both picked their jobs above each other, and she still loved him, but apparently not enough. They were definitely still friends and he e-mailed regularly, just to check in and to update her on his life. There was a part of her that wondered if he’d ever fully put his bitter divorce behind him.

  Get over thinking about the past, she told herself sternly. She should probably sell her rustic house up north, but by renting the condo, she could keep it as a getaway when she just needed quiet woods and an escape from the city. Luckily, there were enough management companies for vacation properties. She had hired one to check in on the place on a regular basis and it wasn’t too expensive.

  Playing Russian roulette with her life was how she viewed her current situation, but she was doing it anyway, juggling homicide detectives and killers and worrying over her mother’s battle with breast cancer. She was relieved the latter seemed to be going well, but only cautiously. Hope could be a deceitful friend.

  “Do I smell coffee?” Jason came out of the bedroom barefoot in faded jeans and a white T-shirt, hair rumpled. His weapon was holstered, but he even slept with it in reach.

  She said dryly, “It won’t put hair on your chest like yours, but I set out a mug anyway. I’m comfortable, so you’ll have to help yourself.”

  “A chest like mine?” He looked down, being his irreverent usual self. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Like your coffee would, smartass. Just get your own.”

  “Bachelor cops are fairly self-sufficient.” He poured himself a cup and wandered straight to his beloved couch. “Damn, I actually slept. It didn’t hurt being right next to you. Have I mentioned your hair smells really good?”

  “Yes.” She wasn’t even close to being ready to talk to him about that. “Speaking of bachelor cops, nothing about another murder,” she told him. “I checked my messages. Maybe he’s being kind and letting us take a weekend off.”

  That familiar moody look on his face took over. “You’re an optimist. I don’t suffer from that problem.”

  No, he didn’t. His dark side bothered her, but everyone had issues.

  Ellie said, “Let’s plan our first fishing trip so I can forget about roses and parks while we drink our coffee anyway. Sometimes a little distance helps. No news is good news. Let’s leave it there for ten minutes.”

  “I don’t know about fishing. That spider thing—”

  “I’ve never seen one up here, so relax. Didn’t I say Indiana? For heaven’s sake, I’ve seen you pull a gun and shoot without blinking. Even if there was one lurking in wait behind the door, I think you could handle the spider situation.”

  “Don’t underestimate my cowardice. Man, I hate spiders and bowling shoes. I hope this fishing thing works out or I’ll have to climb Everest or something. No, strike that. I hate being cold.”

  “I’ve noticed. You gripe about it all the time, but yet live in Wisconsin.”

  He shrugged. “I was born here. I’m capable of unreasonable loyalty.”

  “Unreasonable loyalty? Never heard that one.”

  He patted the couch. “Like I feel toward this piece of furniture. It doesn’t match anything else, but unreasonable loyalty makes me want to keep it. I stay in Wisconsin because I love this state. It isn’t all I know, since I was in the military—hell, I was stationed in Hawaii for a while—but it’s home. I suppose I could do Minnesota in a pinch. Michigan would work if it was the Upper Peninsula, but I’d rather be right fricking here.”

  She was going to fall out of her chair laughing. “I haven’t had enough coffee for this intellectual discussion.”

  “This isn’t coffee.” He peered into his cup. “This is brown water.”

  She’d already known he’d make a comment. “When we trapped the killer in our last big investigation, you were the bait; maybe I should go there this time.”

  “Be the bait? No.” The refusal was emphatic. “I thought we were going to take ten minutes not to talk about it. Subject closed.”

  “You don’t get to make that decision all by yourself. This is our investigation.”

  “I’m sticking by it. Yes, I do. Subject is closed. Do you want more brown water? I’m getting up for another cup.”

  “Feel free to make a pot of the sludge you like.”

  “Sludge? I just want it to get my attention.”

  “Please tell me you own a flannel shirt.”

  He looked at her like she’d just lost her mind. “That’s an interesting switch of the conversation. I don’t know if I own one. I’m kind of doubting it. Why?”

  “Men who fish have to have flannel shirts.”

  “Hard-and-fast rule?”

  “Hard and fast.”

  “Come to think of it, when I accidentally stumble across a fishing show, they all are wearing flannel shirts. I think I have a denim one, will that do? There is a hole in one sleeve.”

  Ellie laughed at his mock hopeful expression. “Okay, but if fishing proves to be the manly hobby you embrace, then there’s a flannel shirt in your future. I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s a hobby where you can drink beer. At least in a canoe. I believe it’s frowned upon in motorized boats.”

  He surprised her and didn’t make a lewd comment about another manly hobby he embraced, but got up for another cup of coffee. Before this change in their relationship, he never would have let that opportunity slide.

  Never.

  Chapter 21

  “I’m meeting someone. She’ll ask for Ted.”

  The hostess nodded and gave him a friendly smile as she grabbed two menus.

  The restaurant was crowded and noisy, and he was seated at a table by a window overlooking the street, which wasn’t his first choice, but objecting would draw attention to it, so he just smiled at the hostess and sat down.

  She wore a blue dress.

  He liked it. It looked good on her, when normally she went for frumpy and plain. He’d wondered why once or twice because she really wasn’t bad looking, but that wasn’t his concern.

  She’d flirted with him frequently enough that he’d made a decision, though this one was on the reckless side and he was a methodical man.

  This victim could be directly tied back to him much easier than the others.

  Maybe if it hadn’t been for what he always thought of as “the accident” back when he was in college, none of any of this would have happened and she wouldn’t be sitting there ordering a cosmopolitan with vanilla vodka and cherry liqueur the house called a red sunset.

  The sun was certainly going to go down on her this night.

  * * *

  Jason was eating a grilled cheese sandwich when Fergusson walked up, and at a glance he could tell that was one unhappy man. Grasso was with him. “I want to see you and MacIntosh in my office in ten minutes.”

  It was an educated guess. “Let me call it: A murder last night made you think of me.”

  “Every time I think of you I consider murder, Santiago, but in this case I’m not the one you are unsuccessfully looking for. We have an immediate ID on this one: Regina Juno, elementary schoolteacher.”

  “Oh Jesus.” Suddenly the sandwich didn’t have much appeal. “I want to nail this guy to a wall.”

  “I’ll hand you the hammer.” Grasso sounded sincere. “She was with a friend. Apparently it was a date and she was nervous about it, and
so she’d asked the friend to come to the restaurant in case she needed an excuse for a hasty exit. All seemed to go fine, so no exit needed. She said they were laughing and talking. Now the friend can’t get ahold of her and there’s a woman of her exact description right down to her dress in a park down by the lake. The cause of death is pretty obvious since she had a plastic bag over her head. That also makes manner of death really easy. She was stabbed first, and probably bleeding out when she was suffocated.”

  “In a park again. What the hell,” he muttered.

  Fergusson said, “There was the usual note on her wrist too. It said: You’ll be mine. This particular killer is on a rampage.”

  Jason had to fight the chill that went through his entire body. “That’s not very comforting. Well shit. I don’t want to tell Ellie this.”

  “Too bad, this is her case too. The media consists of bloodhounds. They are really starting to get going on these cases. It doesn’t help that someone leaked information that Grasso’s case is linked to these murders. Ten minutes.”

  Grasso watched the chief detective walk away. “It could have been anyone who saw the vase of tulips sitting on MacIntosh’s desk. I’m in the same position you are. At least in my gang murder I know who did it, I just can’t get a prosecutor to go for an indictment because everyone is lying left and right. In your case, I have about zero except a bunch of graphs and charts about the likelihood she was murdered. The family of my victim is calling me almost every hour now. I want to promise we’re making progress but can’t in good conscience lie to them. I repeat that we’re working on it like I’m a trained parrot.”

  So much for the relaxation of fishing. Jason wasn’t at all happy either. “Yeah, we’re screwed right now. Can the friend describe this date?”

  “Tall, fairly young, she’d guess about thirty, brown hair. Said his name was Ted and claimed to be a financial guy for a company called Nevis Investments. I’m running down the list now of anyone who is named Ted and works for them. I suspect it’s a dead end because he wasn’t telling the truth, but do you want to hear the kicker?”