Fractured (16 page)

That was a pretty good question. Ellie wasn't sure. On the one hand, she was happy for him, and even understood why he'd gone to New York. Some aspiring writers never completed that book they dreamed of writing, others wrote many and never sold them, and to have a book deal like the one he'd been offered was the culmination of his dream and a lot of hard work. There was absolutely no way she could—or would—stand in the way of that. She was smart enough, she hoped anyway, to know that it would not improve their relationship but probably destroy it.

“No.” Ellie sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think I'd probably have a sense of living alone in a space that wasn't mine anyway. Maybe if I'd sold my house already, it would be different. I disliked living in the condo I rented when I first moved to Milwaukee, but I was adjusting to a new job and a new place. The job is a good fit, so I am comfortable with that decision. Maybe I overthink things a little too much, but in many ways, especially now, I feel like Bryce and I live two very different and separate lives.”

“If he asked you to move to New York, would you go?”

“He isn't there permanently.”

“That isn't really answering my question, is it?”

With a sigh, Ellie admitted, “I doubt it. Not as it stands right now. This past year I embarked on a new life as it were, and it certainly seems like he is doing the same thing. We care about each other, but is it the right fit? We just couldn't be more different, and sometimes I know that is a good thing, and sometimes it flat-out doesn't work long term.”

“Have you talked about marriage?”

“Around it, maybe. We're just both cautious. I only want to do that one time. He's already been through one divorce and I know he doesn't want to do
that
again.”

“Seems logical.”

It did, but was love supposed to be based on logic? “It's probably just as well Bryce is out of town now. My partner and I are pretty focused on these cases.”

Georgia Lukens kept her usual neutral expression. “And how is the sometimes irritating Detective Santiago? Your description, not mine.”

“As usual.” Ellie reconsidered her answer. “Maybe not quite. He made me dinner the other night. That is unprecedented, I admit. I think he feels sorry for me that Bryce is gone.”

“And why do you have that impression?”

Dryly, she answered, “I'd guess frozen pizza is his normal source of nutrition if you can call it that, so he went to the trouble for some reason. Besides, we are talking Santiago here and he is about as subtle as a bull moose usually. He actually exerted himself to be nice.”

“You spend a lot of time together and depend upon one another in a way I would compare to the camaraderie of soldiers. Maybe he cares about how you feel but is uncertain of how to express himself.”

“Trust me, he has no problem expressing himself.” Ellie laughed ruefully and shook her head.

*   *   *

Jason had absolutely
no idea what to say.

He sat at his desk and stared at the woman sitting across from him and tried to formulate a decent answer that would not get him fired.

Because what he wanted to say sure would get his ass in deep trouble.

“Mrs. Peterson,” he said after careful consideration, “there have been two other murders very similar to what happened to your husband, yes. We are working all three cases diligently and with almost single-minded purpose, both on and off duty. Detective MacIntosh and I are very determined to apprehend whoever killed your husband.”

That sounded a lot more professional than:
Stop wasting my precious time you pretentious bitch
.

But … it was tempting to say the latter.

“No one feels you have made any progress. I repeat, I would like to see your notes.” She sat in the chair by his desk in elegant pumps, a black dress, and had her perfectly manicured hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“No one?” he repeated, staying remarkably polite but it cost him. “I was unaware there was a meeting over how we are handling the case. It would have been nice to have been invited. And I'm sorry but my notes are on my computer in a file at this time and I am not only reluctant to give you access to it, but I am fairly sure that violates policy. If you wish to discuss it, that's fine, but it would be better if you would just let me get on with doing my job.”

Her mouth tightened. “Where is the other detective? The woman.”

“Off chasing bad guys, I expect.”

“I don't appreciate your sarcasm.”

“I was being sincere. Detective
MacIntosh,
” he said with emphasis, as he knew perfectly well Mrs. Peterson remembered Ellie's name since he'd just said it, “takes this as seriously as I do, and that is very seriously.”

The murdered professor's wife stood stiffly. “I do not want this matter being sensationalized in the media.”

Her husband's death was a “matter”?

Was that what this impromptu and not exactly pleasant visit was all about? Jason regarded her steadily. “Have you seen me or my partner on the news, talking about it? I can answer that, no, you haven't. Some facts are public record and we can't help that, and sometimes the police department shares details with reporters that might make someone with information come forward, but that is not my decision.”

She slapped a hand on his desk, her expression venomous. “Let me make it clear that I do not want the Milwaukee Police Department to attempt to make anyone come forward.”

“Excuse me? Didn't you just accuse us of not making enough effort?”

She turned on her heel and walked away instead of answering, leaving Jason sitting there perplexed. As luck would have it. Carl Grasso happened to be walking by and heard the exchange, and he turned and also watched the departing widow. “Isn't she a little old for you, Santiago? Usually you make much younger women furious.”

“I'm not positive what just happened.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “But that is one unhappy woman and I happened to be handy. Where's MacIntosh when you need her? Maybe she could have talked Peterson's wife off her ledge. I was fighting the urge to tell the woman to fuck off.”

Lieutenant Grasso whistled. “And you won the battle? I'm impressed. What's her problem?”

That was a valid question. Around them the station was busy, people passing by, the smell of coffee left a little too long on the burner in the air. Jason said slowly, “I'm not exactly sure but it seems to me that if I dissect our conversation, what I come up with is that she wants nothing about her husband's murder on the news. It really ticks her off. She arrived and demanded to see my case notes.”

Grasso looked thoughtfully down the hallway, his hands casually in his pockets. “It makes you wonder what it is she's worried you've uncovered.”

His thoughts exactly. Grasso was a crack investigator, so his insight was usually gold. “We've uncovered nothing,” Jason admitted, leaning back, punching up a screen. “So she's getting all in a twist about the media for no reason I can think of at the moment, but now I'm starting to wonder.”

“
I've
been wondering how it was going but busy with that triple homicide we think is gang related. Luckily, we've got someone ready to roll over on his kind and softhearted friends.” Grasso took the chair Mrs. Peterson had just vacated. “What do you have so far?”

It never hurt to exchange ideas with someone who knew the ropes like Grasso. Jason looked at his screen, but he didn't need to read the words. “We've nothing on Peterson except that he was drugged before he died and his face mutilated. Good finances. By all accounts a solid marriage, though how he could stand her escapes my ass, but apparently he could. Maybe she was nice to him if he paid for that big house and all. A possible eyewitness to the second murder, though no idea who the victim is, and we are hoping for a missing person report on our third vic. That's about it unless you count the pretty brutal way all three had their faces hacked apart, the fact that they were drugged, and those cross-like stab wounds. Oh yeah, the professor and the second vic ate something similar, some sort of cake with apples in it.”

Grasso's gray eyes held a hint of careful consideration. “That's one of those small things that can break open a case. That could be a real lead. Same killer, no doubt about it. Methodology does not lie. Tell me about the witness?”

Jason briefly told him about the boys at the school and the screams they'd heard.

“I worked vice for five years.” Grasso didn't mention he'd been reprimanded and just reinstated to homicide, but he didn't need to, since Jason knew the details anyway. “I'd say you might have a prostitute witness. She isn't coming forward because it would just get her in trouble, or worst-case scenario, she can't come forward because he killed her too and she is just someone no one will ever report missing.”

A depressing thought for both their case and for the witness.

“It's a pretty dicey neighborhood.” Jason needed more coffee but he'd already had three cups. “So you could be right. I'm working on the rufilin connection too and my informant actually called me, but now I can't reach the guy. I've been sitting here expecting a call.”

“Drug dealers are not the most reliable sources.”

“Maybe I should go find him. I did it once before. I know the bar he uses as an office.”

“Maybe.” Grasso lifted his shoulders. “It couldn't hurt. Any lead is better than no lead. I've had informants turn a case like gang killing, but your dealer could have relocated.”

At that moment his phone rang and Jason answered, recognizing the number. “Where in the hell are you?”

Ellie said, “I'm looking at a dead man that I'm wondering if you might recognize. Your number is programmed into his phone on the contact list.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Tell me his name isn't Gurst.”

“We don't know yet. No ID, but yours was one of the last numbers he called. This isn't our case, by the way. It belongs to Rays and Johnson.”

“Mind telling me why they didn't call me instead of you?” His hand tightened on the phone at her testy tone.

“Because they called Metzger first in case he's your buddy or something. This guy called you, you called him back, and now he is dead. The chief isn't into surprises by the way, and wants to know why you might be associated with the dead man because he has two bags of heroin on him. All of us are standing around scratching our heads and wondering, if the killing is drug related, why the drugs were left behind.”

“What, they're wondering if I use drugs? Jesus, give me a break. He's an informant.”

“I didn't say anyone thought that.” Her tone was pragmatic with an edge of sympathy. “There are cops out there with dirty little secrets. This is nothing like the other crime scenes, by the way, so it probably isn't related to our investigation, but who knows at this point.”

It was, though. If a cop talked to someone who might have information about a murder case and then that person ended up dead, well, it wasn't much of a stretch to assume the events were connected.

Grasso was looking at him, his expression extremely interested. Jason said succinctly, “This is entirely screwed up. I'll be right there.”

 

Chapter 16

“Two bullets to the back of the head.”

Ellie could see the holes, so she didn't need the play-by-play, but she simply nodded. The man was sprawled on the concrete of a parking garage—never a safe place to be—and he had not experienced a happy day.

The deputy medical examiner was young, male, and very professional. “He didn't see it coming, so maybe that means something to you. They walked up behind him and shot him point-blank at a very close range. If you have a suspect, they would have residue on their hands. Forensics will be able to provide trajectory, but I'd say the person was shorter. That doesn't really limit the number of possible perpetrators of this crime very much since he was a tall man, but on an initial examination, that is an educated guess.”

No suspect. No, they sure didn't. She didn't want to dwell on it.

“All right. Thanks.” She noted Santiago pulling into the parking lot. “I think we might have a positive ID coming up here.”

Her partner got out and slammed his car door, hatless as usual, in a hurry as he came toward the taped-off area in long measured strides. His first words were predictably, “What the fuck?”

She pointed at the corpse. “Gurst?”

“Shit, yeah, that's him.” Santiago irritatingly looked like he wasn't even cold even though it was freezing outside and he was wearing a leather coat that was open over a denim shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. No gloves or scarf. No wonder he constantly grumbled about the temperature. He drawled, “I think I can see why he didn't return my call. I guess I'm not going to hold a grudge just this once.”

The deputy ME laughed and gave them a nod as he picked up his bag and walked away. Crime scene techs were scouring the parking lot, their breath sending little clouds into the stale air.

“This
is
part of our case.” Santiago said it with conviction.

Detective Rays, in a long overcoat and polished shoes, looked interested, his partner off to see if they could retrieve surveillance tapes. “The slasher thing?”

Ellie wasn't buying it … except for the phone number. “He's a drug dealer. It happens that in the course of doing business with people not known for their high moral standards, sometimes it goes south.”

“He is one hundred percent a drug dealer,” Santiago agreed, staring at the body superimposed on the cracked asphalt. “And this shit does happen. But I don't like the timing. There's only one reason he'd call me and it has nothing to do with two bags of heroin.”