Crushed

by Kate Watterson

  At least he could answer that one. “I was an MP in the military. I liked it a lot better than getting shot at on a regular basis and sleeping on the ground half the time.”

  Right then and there he decided he should get a medal for not adding that arresting people who flaunted the law was much more satisfying, but he had the feeling his father was braced for him to say something just like that.

  He didn’t say it, mostly once again because Ellie would be ticked off at him.

  Perhaps he also acknowledged his parents were trying and it was pointless to be angry about something that absolutely could not be changed. They’d made choices, and he wasn’t sure if they were right or wrong, but he couldn’t alter the past. If nothing else, a sense of inevitability settled over him.

  So he gave it a shot. “What about you? Regrets over the decisions?”

  “Your mother? No way. Love of my life. On other things, I’ve obviously made some mistakes.” He added, “I’ve paid.”

  That was fair enough. Jason nodded. “I understand you did your time.”

  His father shook his head. “No, not what I meant. All those years I didn’t know I had a son. I should be furious with your mother, and I was at first, but have realized she was probably right in the long run. Being in prison was a hard lesson, but if I had known you existed, I would have come for you the minute those gates opened. I also would have told my family, and I doubt you’d have ended up a homicide detective.”

  The message was clear that he needed to forgive his mother. That wasn’t in the immediate future, and he wasn’t inclined to take advice from this man, but he was there anyway, having a congenial meal. He opted for saying, “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Do. I suppose it could be argued I always had a choice, but you know, life wasn’t presented to me that way. I thought I didn’t. I believe your mother thought the same thing.”

  His mother bustled up then with two dessert plates laden with some concoction that involved a lot of whipped cream on the top. She asked brightly, “Coffee?”

  The strawberry cake was very good as promised, but Jason was relieved when they left. Ellie didn’t pull any punches, but then she never did. “How did that deep, dark conversation go?”

  The night was starry, the county road bumpy after the winter. He steered around a pothole the size of Kansas. “The bottom line is he wants me to forgive and forget.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I don’t know. He might be under the mistaken impression I’m a lot nicer than I actually am.”

  Ellie reclined the seat a little and closed her eyes. “I’m going to take a nap since you’re driving. And I’d like to say I think you’re the one under the mistaken impression you aren’t a lot nicer than you actually are.”

  Chapter 23

  That long-ago accident had planted a seed.

  Drunk girl weaving on her feet, and he was more than willing to walk her home and see what might happen next. She was decently nice looking but hardly memorable, except he was pretty sure she had a nice body under those jeans and that sorority sweatshirt.

  When she tripped, he really wasn’t surprised, and he did try to catch her, but she pitched into the fountain, hitting her head on one of the tiers gushing water into the bottom.

  He thought about dragging her out, but then reconsidered. She was still breathing for a minute or two because he could see the bubbles on the surface, and then they stopped.

  It was self-preservation to just turn and walk away.

  That easy.

  She meant nothing to him, and why go through all the questions and interviews with the police if he didn’t have to deal with it? In the furor that followed—press and campus news, and the fraternity being shut down for having the party in the first place—he was absolutely anonymous.

  It was an interesting experience.

  * * *

  Georgia picked out cherry cabinets and white quartz for the counter because she thought it suited the dated elegance of the house but still preserved the character of the time it was built, with a waterfall edge on the counter and travertine for the kitchen floor. She suggested stainless appliances, pendant lights, and a new picture window for the view into the backyard and pool.

  By the time they walked out of the store to the car, Carl had spent a small fortune, but he’d asked for her advice and hadn’t blinked an eye at any of her ideas. She’d also tentatively recommended a contractor who was married to a friend of hers, and he’d called and hired him over the phone.

  She thought it was going to look stunning, but hoped the change wouldn’t affect him too much emotionally except in a positive way. If there was one thing she’d learned it was that people were unpredictable, and what you saw was not necessarily what you got. He seemed always collected and confident, but that might or might not be true.

  In her opinion, Carl should have done it a long time ago, but this new kitchen he wanted to have her help design was a sign he was finally moving in the right direction. She couldn’t decide if it was just something he’d been thinking about and never bothered to do, or if having a relationship pushed him to make other changes in his life.

  It was really starting to be a relationship.

  “Successful shopping trip? Are you happy with the choices?” She was careful about probing him over his emotions and refrained from asking if he thought his mother would approve. That was going too far. A grown man might resent that question and might be justified in doing so, but it could be there in the back of his mind. There had never been proper closure.

  “Oh, I think so. I’m making you do all the work.”

  She went for middle road. “I think you will like it at the end of the day, if you’ve gotten to a place where you’re comfortable with the change.”

  His silver eyes glimmered in the fading afternoon light as he started the car. “If I wasn’t, would I have suggested the trip to the hardware store and taken your suggestions? Use logic, Dr. Lukens.”

  “You were just thinking about this case the whole time.”

  “I was, and you were thinking about what I was thinking. We have an interesting dynamic.”

  * * *

  “I’ll give you that.”

  He mused out loud, “I can see shooting someone in an alley somewhere in a drunken dispute. I can even see an escalating emotional situation that gets out of control, but this perpetrator is very hands on.”

  Good-bye to granite or marble countertops decisions and right back to police work. God only knew what MacIntosh and Santiago were like together.

  She intensely disliked that insight but agreed. “He targets victims that he can take absolutely by surprise. That’s his thrill. Betraying their trust.”

  “Why suffocation?”

  She wasn’t a forensic psychologist, but she did feel his frustration.

  “I think unfortunately it is a slower death than most. Stab or shoot someone and it is over quickly, but this is different. You can look into their eyes as it all ends. I’ve read about cases like that, and then I can’t sleep at night. It’s about power, but then all murder is about the ultimate power over someone else. You won, and they lost. Contest over. What motivates him? You and I can only speculate. I’ve dealt with some disturbed people, and so have you in in a different way.”

  “There will be no rematch if you kill someone, I understand that.” He was quiet for a moment. “It’s moving pretty fast. I don’t like it at all. I went through the FBI database to see if there were other cases like the ones we are suddenly dealing with, and it isn’t as unusual as you’d think for the killers to call in tips to law enforcement or to write to them or even contact the media. In this case it appears MacIntosh is being directly targeted, whether it is out of sexual interest or jealousy.”

  * * *

  Georgia looked out at the street, now glimmering from a light rain that had moved in, and the streetlights reflected on the wet pavement. “None of you have an easy job. Speaking of which, I have a
patient who is making some progress and expressed an interest in police work. She’s young, rebellious, and that she’s considering a discipline like that took me off guard, but she’d like to talk to someone about it. You look too James Bond, but I was thinking about them. Good or bad influence on a developing psyche?”

  He pulled into her parking lot and then coasted into the garage, since her condo had two assigned spaces and she only used one. “More your area of expertise, Doctor, but I’d say they would both give it to her straight. Believe or not, Santiago can clean up his language if necessary. Just remind him. It wouldn’t hurt. Too James Bond, huh?”

  “That’s hardly an insult.” She unfastened her seat belt as he parked. “Best analogy I could come up with. She’d find your appearance and the title lieutenant to be too much authority oriented. She has issues with her father, and Santiago would not remind her in the least of anyone except someone who might own a motorcycle, which she would think was cool. And trust me, she doesn’t think that about many things.”

  Carl gave a genuine laugh, which didn’t happen often enough. “I’m kind of surprised he doesn’t have a monster bike.”

  Georgia was too. “Give him time.”

  They went up on the elevator to her floor and she flipped on the lights once she’d unlocked the door. It was surprisingly comfortable to say, “You know where the scotch is, so please help yourself. I’m going to change my shoes. Heels look good, but flats feel a lot better.”

  “I might lose my tie,” Carl commented, walking toward the cabinet where she kept the glasses.

  “Good idea.” She went in and changed shoes, and when she left her bedroom, he had taken off both his jacket and his tie and was on the couch.

  It was … nice.

  She sank down in an opposite chair. “So, you’re an experienced investigator. What do you think happens next?”

  “With?”

  She had been vague. “Back to the case. Ellie is a friend of mine.”

  Carl swirled the ice in his glass. “I’m afraid he’s going to go for it. Trap her somehow, take her off guard, but I really think he’s going to target Santiago first. I’ve told her that flat out. But Santiago has the tendency to think he’s bulletproof, and we all know that isn’t true.”

  “I believe he’s taken three and gotten lucky.” She had to point that out.

  “Can you count on that luck forever?”

  He had a valid point.

  “Probably not. Don’t say that to me. I’m fond of some of my patients more than others.”

  * * *

  Ellie rolled over and listened to the soft sound of Jason’s breathing in the dark.

  One o’clock in the morning.

  She got up, slipped on a pair of loose pants and a shirt, and went to the kitchen. She might as well work, since she wasn’t going to doze off on her own even at this hour.

  The case was why she was still awake.

  She was still processing the scene in her head, and that kept her awake when it happened. She wasn’t able to get the sight of the victim’s face flat and pallid behind the plastic out of her mind, and she had to breathe deeply and consciously let it go. She punched in the elementary school roster to see if anything had been missed about Juno’s colleagues.

  Nothing.

  She checked the notes on the first victims and one thing popped out. Before now it wouldn’t have.

  Calvin Hanes, the second victim, had worked as a janitor at an elementary school before he got fired and went to work for the storage company where he unloaded trucks. It was just a five-word notation in his profile.

  Juno had been an elementary school teacher.

  Ellie squared her shoulders and wondered if by chance it was the same school.

  It was.

  She went into the bedroom and poked Jason in the shoulder. It was late, but he hardly ever slept so she felt guilty, but this might be important.

  Instant response. “What the hell?”

  “Get this. Juno taught at Parkview Elementary.”

  Jason sat up. “You are kidding me. We needed this. It might be a lead.”

  Ellie thought so too. The information was interesting and connected two of the victims, but it could mean nothing more than that the killer lived near the school, or even that maybe he went to the school years ago. That would be like the proverbial needle in a haystack if who they were looking for was close to thirty, because literally thousands of kids would have gone through that school by now, and he certainly wouldn’t look the same as a man as he did as a child, but at least it was something.

  He got up and wandered into the kitchen behind her. “I’m going to have a cup of coffee, but I’m guessing that doesn’t interest you.”

  “I might never shut my eyes.” Ellie pointed at the cup next to her laptop. “Herbal tea. Just the cold hard truth. I’m sure you’ve already figured out I have my demons too. I don’t need anything extra to keep me awake.”

  It was definitely not new information.

  “As far as I can tell, we have the same problem, it is just a matter of degrees. I think Grasso is a vampire.” He took a cup out of the cupboard. “Parkview, huh?”

  “One of the other victims also worked at an elementary school but was fired years ago. If it happens to be the same one … well, it doesn’t mean we’ve got him, but it might mean something to get us there.” She picked up her tea and took a sip, thoughtful. “My initial reaction is that means something. Association is real, or so a certain Georgia Lukens tells me. All along I’ve felt he’s sending a message of some kind, daring law enforcement to decipher it. Unfortunately for us, he seems to be fascinated in a very negative way with how we work.”

  “That isn’t an understatement. That school thing makes me wonder if he just lives nearby or maybe went there?”

  “Any and all insights are welcome on this cheerful subject.”

  “How did you figure this out?”

  “Background checks and the name popped. If he lives nearby and sees the sign for the school every single day, that might be it, but I’m inclined toward a connection to the school itself. A former janitor and a teacher from the same place is personal. If it is the same place. It is difficult when the pieces of the puzzle scatter instead of falling into an order that fits. That is hardly the only school named that in this world, but I actually see it pretty often. I drive by it on the way to your condo.”

  “I think it’s worth a look anyway.”

  “I agree.” He poured cold coffee from the morning into his cup and stuck it in the microwave. Jason was in some ways the ultimate bachelor and seemed to value simplicity above comfort, or maybe it was his time in the military that made stale reheated coffee acceptable. Ellie had to admit to being more picky than that, and his coffee even when fresh made her shudder.

  “It might mean nothing, but it struck me.”

  “How was your conversation with Grantham? I don’t think I knew you still talked to him so often.” Jason said it casually, but Ellie took the sudden change in subject to mean it wasn’t casual at all. The microwave beeped and he took out his cup and leaned against the counter.

  Ellie thought carefully about her response. “It was fine. We’re still friends, so we talk. In a way, we’re comrades in arms, considering what we went through during the Northwoods case. He didn’t send the tulips, but you already know that.”

  “Is that what I am? A comrade in arms?”

  “You would certainly qualify.” She wasn’t about to have this argument. “Look. If you ever think I’m going to share every facet of my life with you, think again. I don’t expect it from you either. If you talked to Kate, it would be fine with me.”

  “I actually have no desire to talk to Kate.” He’d relaxed a little, though. “I’m just not used to giving a shit, and quite frankly I’ll be edgy until we catch this guy.”

  She hated to break it to him, but he was edgy all the time. She decided to not point that out. “Giving a shit. That’s extremely romant
ic.”

  “I’m practically Shakespeare.”

  “I think you might be a little out of touch with reality right there.” Ellie went back to her screen. “Come take a look at this.”

  Chapter 24

  It was starting to get tricky with remote cameras and cops parked outside.

  He knew about both, of course.

  A new strategy needed to come into play. He’d thought it over, since that was part of the game. It was fine; the risks adjusted.

  So could he.

  Inventive was his middle name.

  So he did figure it out.

  No sweat.

  He asked if there was no response to deliver to the neighbor, since he knew the wife next door was home. It worked beautifully. Florist van and all.

  The police took video. He wasn’t in it, just observing. The wife accepted the flowers when Ellie MacIntosh didn’t answer her door.

  Perfect.

  * * *

  The knock came at about two minutes after they walked into the condo. Between the surveillance and two very competent officers parked outside they were surely safe enough and Ellie needed to get more clean clothes.

  Santiago won the race to the door of course with longer legs and a head start. It was just Mr. Nichols from next door with a vase of flowers and a properly startled look on his face because Santiago had his sidearm drawn. He stammered, “I saw you were back. Blackie was over here again yesterday so I went looking for him. Someone tried to deliver these for you yesterday, but the evening was supposed to be cool so I didn’t want to just set them on the porch. I thought you might want them safe. My wife thought they were really pretty. I probably should be more thoughtful and get some for her soon.”

  They were. Yellow roses in a glass vase, and there was a card too.

  Oh, Ellie couldn’t wait to read that card. Not.

  “That’s nice of you,” she assured him as she accepted the flowers. They’d have all that on video, but the officers had reported what they thought was a legitimate delivery van pull into her driveway. Still, the flower theme made her wonder. “I don’t suppose you saw who delivered them.”