Fractured (19 page)

*   *   *

They walked through
the lobby of the hotel and caught an elevator going up. “Ordeal over.”

It was just a comment. Jason appreciated that he'd been the man of the hour in some ways, but that was a dubious distinction in his mind. Luckily Ellie had evidently caught the edge of desperation in his gaze and theatrically checked her phone and declared a lead had come through in this latest case and they needed to leave. It worked effectively, since the governor was not going to stop them from catching the killer gaining the most momentum in the press, so it was a pretty good angle.

The downside was that now they
needed
a lead. As if they didn't before, but now it was expected.

“It ended up better than I thought it would be.” Ellie looked a little drained, but they had the case, the drive, getting introduced to what seemed like a thousand people but was probably only a group of thirty or so, and he was wiped out too as they rode up in the elevator.

He watched the buttons light up as they ascended floors. “It wasn't too bad. Kind of like flying. I hate it, but when I arrive at my destination and we haven't crashed into the ground, then it was a good experience. At least they had booze.”

“That's you. Always seeing the bright side.”

“Ours is an occupation that inspires a cheerful disposition.”

“I rather think Lauren might have a mild crush on you.” Ellie's hazel eyes were amused as the bell dinged, signaling their floor.

He'd gotten that vibe as well, loud and clear. She admitted she was the one who had texted him, afraid he might have had to cancel. Nice, but they'd really only barely met. He was about as bad at flirtation as he was at small talk. “The governor's aide seemed to find you interesting.” The doors to the elevator opened. He said, “Lauren is about a decade too young, for your information.”

And about a century or so in life experience when he thought about his past.

“I thought that's what men were looking for.” Ellie stepped out and he followed. “Anyway, it ended up being a nice night and his aide and I just talked about the new state health care plan. It was a very stimulating conversation, as you can imagine. I'm just glad we're back here.”

He didn't disagree. There was something about taking the girl of your dreams to the governor's mansion for a first date, especially when she didn't even realize it was a date.

Or even that she was the girl of your dreams.

Ellie went on. “I liked everyone fairly well, even the attorney general, though I don't always agree with her politics.”

God, she's beautiful
. Ellie, not the attorney general, though maybe the AG was, he just didn't notice because he'd been busy trying not to ogle his partner all evening. Jason leaned an arm on the wall next to the door of her room and just
looked
at her.

It startled him that he'd never really made the distinction before. Pretty girls and hot women, he'd met quite a few, dated some, slept with his fair share, but he really thought she was
beautiful
.

So he stood there awkwardly—and he was a lot of things, but not usually awkward with women—and it was, infuriatingly, a lot like a prom date. A suit, a slinky dress, the whole tongue-tied, uncertain package.

Or like the ones he'd seen on television. He'd worked pretty much all through high school in the afternoons and evenings, though the one thing he'd ever done that his old man had approved of was take time off to play football. But he'd gotten kicked off the team his senior year for getting caught drinking beer and smoking weed. Before the school year was even over his father had thrown him out anyway, so he'd struggled pretty hard to even graduate. There was no money for the luxury of a fancy date.

Jason said in a voice that was only a little off-key, “I had a better time than I imagined too.”

“Come on in. We can talk about the case.” She swiped her key card and turned the handle of her door. “Forensics could do nothing with the picture from my phone of the car we followed. That was the message I actually got, not a lead. We really need to figure out if it fits in.”

The case was important to him too, but was that the only possible topic they could discuss?

It pissed him off. Like totally. Not because she wanted to talk about four unsolved murders on what had turned out to be the most meaningful night of his life, but because MacIntosh didn't
understand
it was the most meaningful night of his life.

So he did what he did best and was a jerk.

“No thanks.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

She turned around, her expression perplexed at his abruptness and short tone. “All right. I brought my notes, so that's what I'm going to do. It's not that late.”

“Yeah, it's not that late, but once again, no thanks.” He tried to picture himself being in the same room with her, a convenient bed at hand, and concentrating on those damn notes.
Nope, not happening
.

“What is the matter with you all of a sudden?” She stared at him. He probably was acting strangely, because it had been such an unusual evening in the first place and he was, quite frankly, torn between being glad it was over and not wanting it to end.

Who he was mad at escaped him. Not her really, she'd been poised and lovely, but seemed like she absolutely did not get it.

Get him and how he felt.

Maybe he
was
a little ticked at her. “I'm surprised you aren't tired from flirting all night with what's-his-name, the aide guy.”

“He was sitting next to me, and I told you, we talked about the health care changes.” The words were slow and maybe, finally, she was starting to catch on, her head tilted back as she gazed up at him with a newfound wariness that indicated on a feminine level she recognized the source of his angst. “Were you
jealous
?”

He didn't mean for it to happen. Not planned, not scripted, but just one of those moments. He stepped forward and planted his other hand on the wall by her shoulder as she stood by the open door, definitely invading her personal space. She retreated too, which was not her style, stepping backward, but she was essentially trapped.

Yes, he'd been watching her all evening.

“Fuck yes,” he answered flatly. “And this is what the hell is the matter with me.” He bent his head and she guessed what he was about to do at the last moment; he caught it in the way her breathing changed before he kissed her.

The only thing he could say in his favor was that other than the element of surprise, he did nothing to prevent her from pulling away. Her lips were soft and smooth and warm, pretty much living up to his fantasies of this moment, and while he wouldn't say precisely that she kissed him back, she didn't stop him either.

So he took his time about it, a voice in his head telling him maybe this would be the only one, so get it right, buddy …

When he lifted his head and looked at her, she seemed unnerved. She just stood there in her coat and that killer dress and stared at him like he'd lost his mind. He had, so the look was justified.

He might have just seriously fucked his career, and even worse, his life. He'd worked hard to redeem himself with Metzger and thought he'd succeeded pretty well, a lot in part because of Ellie, and now it was possible he'd screwed it all up. If she cried sexual harassment and complained, the chief might just fire him.

Brilliant move.

But
worth it
. And she wouldn't do that, or he didn't think so. Request a different partner maybe, but she wasn't the type to screw him over that way.

Silence. A little too prolonged. Ellie MacIntosh at a loss for words for once.

He was a little shook up himself. He fumbled in his pocket for his key card and turned away. “I think you can see now why maybe we should just talk about the case tomorrow on the way back. Don't ever expect me to apologize for what I just did, by the way.”

*   *   *

Ellie tossed her
coat on a chair and sat down on the edge of the bed before kicking out of her shoes, the turn of the evening a little surreal.

What just happened
?

Jason Santiago had just kissed her and actually, it had been quite a memorable experience, done with a surprising amount of finesse for a man who was much more action-oriented usually, his edginess one of the things that made him such an effective police officer. In bed she imagined he would be more passionate than tender and the pace would be about a hundred miles an hour, more like a high-speed drag race than a moonlit walk on a beach.

And he was fooling himself if he thought she expected him to ever apologize for anything. She knew better. Definitely not Santiago.

This wasn't a complication she needed. She exhaled and stared at the ceiling as she flopped backward on the generic bedspread.

Had
she imagined him in bed?

No.

Well, maybe in the back of her mind. It wasn't a betrayal of her relationship with Bryce, she assured herself, just a commentary on the dynamics of how women and men interact. Sexual attraction happened, that was how the world stayed populated. She'd always just interpreted her partner's suggestive remarks as his idea of cracking a crude joke but maybe on some level she'd known he
wasn't
joking.

As luck would have it, Bryce called at that moment. She recognized the ring and stared at her purse for a moment before snapping it open and taking out her phone. “Hi.”

“I hope it isn't too late to call. How was the big night?”

That was quite a question. Answering it would take a great deal more reflection than she'd had time to do just yet. Analyzing her feelings at this moment was a bit of an overwhelming proposition. Ellie said, “Interesting.”

“Interesting good or interesting bad?”

She could picture him, probably at the desk wherever he was staying—he'd sublet an apartment—no doubt in front of his computer, his dark hair hanging over his brow.

“Fine. Dinner was this six-course thing … very good. I've been bad about cooking for myself lately. So it was kind of a treat. I had a nice time overall.”

Not completely honest but close. She'd enjoyed herself until the very end. Now she was just confused and not very happy about it. “We just got back a few minutes ago. What's it like in New York?”

“The weather? It's snowing. The city looks like a jewel with the lights in the buildings and a veil of white.”

He did have a way with words. Ellie adjusted her position so she was propped against the pillows. What she really wanted to do was remove her pantyhose but it was almost impossible one-handed. She tried it anyway. “I bet. The book?”

“Going pretty well. How about the murders? My parents keep me up on what's in the paper.”

“The leads we have so far are kind of all over the place. The good news is we have a few.”

“That is good news. I miss you, just in case you were wondering.”

“I miss you too.” She did, but they were still at cross purposes, no illusions there. Maybe now more than ever. “Going to New York still feels like the right thing to do?”

“I think so,” he answered, his voice casual, though Bryce wasn't casual about anything. His intensity was different than Santiago's but it was there. “I was crowding you, this book is important to me, and logistically, you would never come with me, I knew that. I don't mean that like it sounds either, your life just wouldn't allow it even if it was what you wanted.”

Even if it was what she wanted? It was so close to the conversation she'd had with Georgia Lukens she was stuck there without a reply until she finally came up with a careful comment. “That is an interesting way of putting it. I don't think there is a right way to respond.”

“I'm not asking you to.” He smiled, she could hear it in his voice. “If there is one thing I learned from being married to Suzanne for five years, it is that having your own life is really important. Self-reliance is a virtue, not a sin. Okay, now that sounded a shade too philosophical for a phone conversation. Tell me about the governor's mansion. Nice?”

“What do you think? Very.”

“I know Santiago was dreading it. He survive?”

“Made it through, but he's glad it is over is my impression.” Her voice was a little stilted. “There are times I think I understand him, and times I am not so sure.”

An understatement, so she changed the subject. “The one thing I'd do if I was in New York is catch a Broadway show. I'm not much for crowds but I'd have that on my list. Have you been?”

He had. He'd caught
The Phantom of the Opera
and it was, according to him, wonderful. She relaxed a little at the change in subject, opening the bottle of water the hotel had provided, physically and mentally tired but glad he'd called by the time they hung up.

She might be a detective but she hadn't the faintest clue what to do about Santiago. Or Bryce, for that matter. Or her mother's illness …

Or the murders.

The case notes sat in her briefcase by the side of the bed. Ellie changed into pajama pants and a T-shirt, had another sip of water, and propped the file on her lap.

She used a pad of paper and pen instead of her computer. Sometimes she thought better that way, just musing it out. First she wrote:
Dead professor
.

Peterson was an enigma to the extent that he seemed like a boring, maybe even pretentious man with a wife who was, in Ellie's opinion—like Santiago's—more bitter over losing her source of income than her husband. Why kill him?

Exhibit one.

Squatter
. Exhibit two. They still knew nothing except he'd never rented the house, and the kids heard the woman screaming. Possible black car, no idea of the make or model.