Buried (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (19 page)

“Yes, sir,” she said with as little inflection as possible. “I think I know where we can go.”

There was not a large presence of organized crime in Oneida County. If someone was intent on following them there they could, of course, but she doubted that was the priority. Or else Santiago would have a very valid point and they would have come through the front door like what had happened to Fielding and Danni Crawford.

“I want to talk to Fielding’s wife,” Santiago said, his normally bronzed face still pale. “Let us at least do that.”

“Too late.” Metzger shrugged. “She and the kid left for Florida right after the funeral. I can’t say I blame her.”

Ellie might have run for the hills—or the beach—if her husband had been murdered when she was lying right next to him. But Ellie was still frustrated. “I know you have officers on this case, but don’t you think now
we
need to talk to her?”

“No. She’s been interviewed.” Metzger turned on his heel. He looked back as he walked toward the man in charge from the fire department. “MacIntosh, take your car, and the two of you just go. I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning? Sir, with all due respect—”

But he was already done with them, yards away and evidently not listening. As a brush-off it was effective.

“At least your car wasn’t burned to a crispy-crisp.” Her partner had his hands in his pockets, feigning indifference when his body language suggested anything but. She’d never seen a shirt quite as wrinkled as the one he was wearing. “The two vehicles next to mine didn’t fare so well either.”

The dispassionate tone of his voice didn’t fool her. He was unnerved.

“You weren’t in it.”

To give him credit, he gave a small, muffled laugh. “All right, touché. And from the look on your face you aren’t any happier being saddled with me than I am to have my car—which I might say was a mechanical work of art—blown into a million pieces.”

“I don’t know,” she said succinctly, “if you can judge my level of unhappiness at this moment.”

“Don’t think you can evaluate mine either.” His reply was sharp enough to make her turn her head. Jason Santiago took in a long, measured breath. “Once upon a time, Detective MacIntosh, I was called into the chief’s office and he told me he was assigning to me a fairly green detective who had just made a splash in the media with a high-profile case but didn’t have much experience. I told him no thanks. He didn’t listen to me then, just like he didn’t listen to you now, and I’m starting to think he wasn’t completely nuts anyway. So, where are we going?”

A compliment from Jason Santiago? And he was right. There were times in this life when a person just had to adjust to the circumstances. This appeared to be one of those very instances.

“Northern Wisconsin is nice this time of year.”

“Jesus, why did I know you were going to say that?” Santiago bent over, theatrically clutching his stomach, which alarmed some of the rescue workers, but she waved them away.

“Pack a bag and stop whining.” She already had her phone out. Bryce was going to have to be told, and she knew he was not going to be jumping for joy either. “I’ll wait right here.”

“How could I possibly resist such an enthusiastic invitation?”

“Could you just hurry?”

He went, which was a relief because this hadn’t been quite the stop she’d envisioned. Bryce answered on the second ring. “Ellie, I’ve been—”

“Worried, I know,” she supplied. “Turn on the news. You’ll be even more worried. That is Santiago’s car.”

She was pretty sure he said
shit
in the background. “Car?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“And when would that be?”

“Not tonight.” Then she told him the bad part. “I’m wondering if you need to go somewhere.”

“Excuse me? Me? Why?”

“The chief is acting like Santiago really has kicked a nest somewhere and someone has killed three police officers and planted a very effective bomb in his car. It doesn’t look, in case you are wondering, nearly as nice as it used to.”

“Why would
I
need to go anywhere?”

She stood there on the sidewalk, phone to her ear, and struggled to make sense of it herself. A bad feeling?

“Because there seems to be this crazy link from Fielding to Brown to Crawford and now to Santiago and guess who is next in line? Metzger wants us out of town. We’re going. But I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know you’re safe.”

“Because you might love me?”

“Not now,” she responded firmly. “We aren’t going to discuss that now. What about your parents’? Can you go there?”

He took a moment and she wondered if it would always be like this. In a very Bryce-like way, he was weighing the pros and the cons … maybe even wondering if it was worth it to even be with her.

“Ellie,” he said reasonably. “If they really wanted to get at me, my parents would be the first logical place to look if I wasn’t at home. Not to mention I’d like to keep them out of the line of fire. Where are
you
going?”

Bryce and Santiago … that sounded like not so much of a great mix, but then again, she didn’t want to lie awake all night worrying either. “I haven’t decided, but north … if we are on ice for a few days he can help me with the other case.”

“Your house?”

“No.” She’d already decided on that. It was evident they had no idea what they might be dealing with. “We’re trying to figure it out. What I’m saying is please pick a generic place for a couple of days, leave right away, maybe pay cash for it, and use your cell for personal correspondence.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I’m going to say I’m being overcautious.”

“I’m going to hope you are.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Is it safe for me to tell you over the phone or will some international satellite device pick it up?”

She took in a deep breath. “Look, I know you aren’t happy about this, but the sarcasm is not needed at the moment.”

It was easy to picture him, casual in jeans and a T-shirt, probably sitting at his desk. He said finally, “I’ll just pick some place at random … Ellie, now I am going to worry about you all the time.”

“Vice-versa, but tell me you’ll do it.”

“I’ll do it.”

She let out a small breath. “Thanks. I…”

He waited. “Yes?”

“I do love you,” she said quietly and pressed a button.

The first time she’d ever said it to him. She wasn’t sure how she felt … relieved, elated, scared, maybe even a little ridiculous. Over the phone? Really?

Santiago emerged from the building, carrying a small bag.

Time to go.

Chapter 18

It was the cup of coffee.

It spilled across the morning paper and soaked in, and she had to ineffectively swab at it, but at the end, it was just lost. The words blurred, the moment awkward.

And then he finally said it. “I want you to leave. It might be better for both of us.”

No question, of course, of him leaving, she thought in silent shock now that he’d finally said it. No, his house, he was staying. He couldn’t really leave when she thought about it, since all he had was tied to this place.

This dead place.

She could argue, or she could just accept.

She’d never been all that good at accepting
.
So she got up and began to spoon coffee grounds into the pot, turning up the stove. “We’ll talk about it over a fresh cup
.
Why don’t you go and buy another paper?”

*   *   *

Carl saw it
on the news before his phone even rang once, but that might have been because he had absently turned his cell off and hadn’t resurrected it until he realized what was going on.

Car bomb. The car of a cop.

The missed call from Metzger made him shake his head.
Try for once to have a nice date and all hell breaks loose …

Except it hadn’t been exactly a nice date.

If he had to place it in a category, he would say it was an interesting date.

“What happened?” he said by way of greeting when he called back. “I saw the video and that was Santiago’s apartment complex, wasn’t it? I was just there the other night and thought I recognized it.”

Luckily the chief did not stand on much protocol. Solve the case and that was all that mattered. Metzger said in clipped tones, “They took out his car.”

“Yeah…”

“Hit him below the belt but not between the eyes, so he should just consider himself lucky. I sent him off on a little vacation.”

Carl digested that and crossed his ankles, a scotch in his hand, and his body, which had been relaxed, tensed. “Good call there. You think he’s in the same kind of danger as the others?”

“I think he’s not going to be sitting in that apartment waiting on it if I can help it. Someone is putting out a fire but we just can’t see the flames.”

No disagreement on his part. The rapid succession of the murders indicated that containment was an issue. “At least he’s not on duty currently.”

Metzger grumbled, “Dammit, Carl, you’ve met him. I am going to venture to say whoever blew up his car is going to pay. I don’t need retaliation on the agenda.”

He muttered, “He does love that car.”

“
Did
love it. That affair is over because the car no longer exists. So, the game hasn’t really changed, but ante has been upped. I don’t think this is what we imagined at the beginning and I sure as hell am not convinced cops aren’t involved somehow.”

“Even now? When we have a possible link to laundered money and the Henleys?”

“God, Carl, give me a viable theory. You know, like the kind a prosecutor could take to a judge? I’m sure you’re familiar with that part of our due process system.”

He couldn’t even really argue with the sarcasm. “A demolished car? That’s not enough?”

“No.” Unequivocal.

“Fine, MacIntosh and I will go tomorrow to—”

“She’s gone.”

He had to admit his hand froze as he ran it through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“She’s with Santiago. And none too excited about it either. You are on your own for two days at least. Then I’m bringing them both back in as long as it seems safe enough. If you want a shot back at homicide, this is it. Show me brilliance and no more dead cops.”

“Are you serious?”

“Single-handedly solve three homicides involving police officers and you have a definite zip line back into homicide.”

“Is that a carrot?”

“Oh, yeah. You might want to book a flight to Florida. Talk to Joanne Fielding.”

He’d actually already done that, but he was curious. “Why?”

“MacIntosh thinks it is the key to the whole case.”

“Actually, I think I have a lead.”

“Call me when you
do
have one. ‘Think’ does nothing for me.” The line went dead.

*   *   *

The night sky
was clear, the stars gleaming as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m thinking someplace small. There’s a small town outside Fond du Lac.”

Jason turned his head as if he thought she was insane, which he did a bit. “What? Is there a great Arby’s there you haven’t hit yet and feel life will not be complete until you do?”

She drove with the same competent assurance as she did everything else and took an exit off the freeway. “I just don’t want us to be followed. You have something against Fond du Lac?”

He leaned back, body lax, but he was still buzzing from the events of the evening. He hated to acknowledge it, but his chest ached like hell now. “What’s not to like? I am sure they have two stop signs. I can take some pictures for my scrapbook.”

“Don’t be so judgmental, city boy.”

“Am I?”

She knew nothing about him. Or maybe a little. Jason knew it was no secret he’d had a bit of trouble before he’d joined the military and then settled on law enforcement.

“I’m going to guess, yes.” Very quickly MacIntosh shot him a sidelong glance. “You
are
a city boy, right?”

His turn.

“I grew up in Milwaukee,” he admitted. “Not a very ritzy part of it either. How about you?”

“I’ve lived in the city and the countryside. There are advantages to both, I guess. I like the quiet of the latter, but on the other hand, the convenience level drops considerably. It’s pretty nice to be able to shop for groceries at a place that carries everything from fresh-baked scones to sea bass.”

He could picture her in an apron. And preferably nothing else.
Damn, I need to get over this
. “I didn’t know you liked to cook.”

“Some. But Bryce does most of it.” She shot him a look of warning. “No smart-ass comment, please. Lots of men like to cook.”

He
had
been about to make a caustic observation that maybe Grantham also knit his own sweaters, but her tone was fairly uncompromising, so he just shrugged. “If there’s one thing I miss about Kate … well, there’s two things actually”—he grinned—“but we’re talking about cooking right now, right? I did like having something to eat now and then that doesn’t come out of a box, can, or from a take-out place. I’m sure I
could
cook, but my mind doesn’t operate along those lines. When I’m hungry, I get something to eat. There isn’t much preplanning involved. At that point, boxes and cans are pretty handy. The inside of my fridge has never seen sea bass.”

“We think like cops.” Ellie’s profile was all clean lines in the illumination from the lights, her tone no-nonsense. “I’m not saying we have no imagination; just that it works differently. We can predict how criminals might behave, but have a bit of a time with other creativity because our focus is influenced by a more grim side of life.”

“Given it some thought?”

She was actually right. The term “relax” didn’t mean much to him, not when there were people out there doing bad things to other people. It wasn’t a moral stand either—he sure as hell was not motivated by an urge to save the world, but it did offend his sense of humanity that some individuals felt empowered to break the rules and walk away.