Buried (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (30 page)

“How did you know it was me?”

“No one else has this number.”

“You are lying. You knew I’d track you down. Did you kill Ely Henley?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

He laughed softly. It was a warm afternoon and he was in the kitchen, the sun streaming in through the big windows. “You checked into me, didn’t you? Looked into that case five years ago and found out why I was transferred from homicide.”

“Explain to me why I would do that.”

“Because you thought that I, of all people, wouldn’t push it if you did the same thing. Vigilante justice. I’m going to tell you there is always a price.”

“It’s an interesting supposition.”

“Is it a wrong one?”

“I like you, Lieutenant Grasso. But you’d never be able to prove it in a thousand years beyond a reasonable doubt.”

He had the feeling she was right. “Where did you go? One of the other boats, I expect. If I check into it will I find out one of your law school friends’ family has a vessel nearby?”

Lindsey was quiet before she said, “Did you know Henley coerced her? No, not rape, but emotional rape if you ask me. When she found out she was pregnant he got very edgy and the bastard threatened her if she said anything about the affair. He was worried it might affect his life. I’m going to tell you he didn’t deserve to take another breath. Lieutenant, it all comes down to one thing. He bragged that he’d made sure she and his son weren’t touched the first time.”

“Good of him.”

“Wasn’t it? The
first
time? I happen to love my sister, and I love my nephew. She can’t live that way. I read about your past case, and quite frankly, you circumvented the law.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, but you do. You took out two guys who didn’t deserve to live but would probably only have minimum sentences. I happen to know a little bit about how the judicial system works. Good-bye, Detective Grasso.”

The call ended and Carl couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or swear.

What goes around, comes around
 …

Chapter 27

The first really cold day. Frost on the ground like a sprinkling of powdered sugar and there were ice crystals on the stones of the walk in splintered patterns.

In her life Ellie had done difficult things, but this one had to rank up there.

Her grandfather was out back, fiddling with his truck, not the new shiny one parked in the driveway, but the old one he kept by the shed and used to haul wood and various other bits of cargo that might scratch the paint of the vehicle he always complained about being entirely too expensive.

He’d heard her pull in—she knew he had—but had gone back to work with a wrench on something in the engine. When she got out and shut the door of her car, putting her hands into her pockets as she walked up, he waited until she was close to speak to her.

“Can you hand me that screwdriver, please? The one with the red handle. I’d appreciate it.”

She bent and retrieved it, putting it in his outstretched palm. “This one?”

“Feels right.”

The breeze had that slight narcotic bite to it, almost sweet with the threat of winter around the corner. But first the leaves would drift down into piles of brilliant hues, the plants would eventually all fade and go to sleep, and the animals that didn’t hibernate would leave fresh prints in the snow …

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly. “Maybe when you are done, we can go inside.”

He withdrew from the engine and took out the metal bar holding the hood, but his profile was remote as it slammed shut. “Where is your young man?”

She wasn’t sure if Bryce, in his middle thirties, would like to be called a young man, but then again, that was better than old man. “There was a bit of a problem in Milwaukee but he’s back there now, working on his book. Did I tell you he has an agent now in New York?”

“That’s pretty impressive.”

“He’s a pretty smart cookie.” Ellie grinned as she used her grandfather’s favorite expression, but it faded fast. She did
not
want to have this upcoming conversation.

He wiped off his hands. “This old tin can will wait. Nothing I can’t do in the morning. Besides, it’s getting cold. I never used to feel it, but these days I can’t stay out like I used to. We liked to camp well into November when I was younger; go deer hunting at three in the morning when it was so cold the breeze would slice you in half, but I am past that. Let’s go inside.”

At least he was acting perfectly natural, though she had a feeling he knew why she’d come.

The house was warm and smelled faintly like wood smoke from the fireplace in the corner, and he bent over and shoved in a piece of wood from the bin next to it before he went into the kitchen to wash his hands. The silence between them hung like a cobweb in the spring laden with morning dew.

He spoke first. “So you all were investigating a pretty prominent man, but someone killed him.”

“Ely Henley, yes.”

“He had people killed to cover up his affair with some young woman and their love child?”

“It looks that way.”

“At least the woman and child weren’t harmed.”

“No. It appears he was an ambitious man, and there are monsters, and there are worse monsters. He is part of the former group.” She kind of wished she’d accepted Jody’s offer to come along, but in some ways, this was a private moment and her sister had a way of taking over a conversation.

“At least it’s over.”

“I agree.” Ellie sat down at the table where she had eaten cereal and pancakes …

She couldn’t go there. That child wasn’t having this conversation. Detective Ellie MacIntosh was having it.

Finally she said, “Grandpa, tell me about Vivian.”

“So, that is why you are here,” he said, sparing her the declaration as he sank heavily into an opposite chair.

“That is why I am here.”

“It’s her?”

“The skeleton? I’m going to guess it is your first wife, yes.” Ellie found his resignation a comfort in some ways, but unsettling in others. She wished he’d offered coffee. He always offered coffee, but not this visit apparently. “Auntie Mae gave me a letter Vivian had written her well before she supposedly left you. I had a handwriting expert that the department uses compare the signature to the one on your divorce decree. Mae also got that for me from the safe deposit box the two of you have for the family papers. The law firm in Chicago where the papers were supposedly prepared still actually exists, but the attorney whose name was used never practiced there according to their records. It would be my guess someone, like a clerk, was bribed to make up a false document. The signatures are not a match.”

He sat there, silent. His hands, always so strong and capable in her memory, looked thin and blue-veined where they rested on the arms of his chair. “I see.”

She chose her words carefully. “As soon as I learned you had been married before I was surprised no one had ever mentioned it to me.”

“Why? Is any man proud his wife left him? It was water under the bridge, Eleanor. Why would you need to know?”

If only that was the case.

It was difficult to articulate, but she said, “Can you just tell me what happened? If she didn’t sign those papers, someone went to a lot of trouble to make it seem like she did. If you look at it from a perspective of a law-enforcement officer, that is suspicious. Mae was able to tell me a little about her and she said Vivian had an older sister who has since passed away, but who also always claimed that she never heard from her again after she left northern Wisconsin.”

“I killed her.”

Ellie froze. From the top of her head to her toes. Those were not the words she wanted to hear, and yet the ones she dreaded she would. Like a nightmare moment, when something rustles in the dark …

The clock in the corner sounded very loud in the resulting silence.

But then she shook her head. “No, you didn’t. I’ve thought about it too much to believe that. The day you showed me the grave, I sensed you knew who it might be, but you were … stricken. Maybe that was why I didn’t want to let this go. So you could have the answer. Tell me.”

“I didn’t mean literally killed her, Eleanor,” he clarified quietly. “But it is on my head, just the same. I’ve always worried that was true.”

“I need you to explain it to me.”

He nodded, just once briefly, suddenly looking a decade older. “Vivian had a friend … close friend. They went to school together. A pretty young woman who used to come to the house often so they could gossip and have coffee. I really didn’t think much about it, but it got to be this girl was about everywhere I turned. We would run into each other in town often. It was a very long time ago. I was a young man, and to be truthful, when I realized what was happening, I couldn’t decide if I should be flattered or irritated. I finally said something to Vivian and she just laughed and told me it was my imagination.”

Ellie had seen pictures and yes, he’d been a very
handsome
young man. “Did you discourage her?”

“No. I didn’t do anything about it. However, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. People started to talk. When Vivian left me, everyone thought it was because I was having an affair. I believed it was because she thought the same thing.”

Obsession was not a modern invention, nor was stalking.

He went on. “I was furious at first. After all, I had mentioned to Vivian that Helen was starting to make me uncomfortable, but it wasn’t my fault.” His expression was pensive, melancholy, and he sighed. “Anger is a powerful emotion. I suppose since everyone thought it was true, and I was humiliated and unhappy, the rumor became a reality.”

Ellie digested the information, at least able to see it in an abstract sense, not in terms of her grandfather, but maybe in terms of that young man in the pictures. “So you became involved with her?”

“And realized quickly it was a mistake. Helen was quite a determined young woman under her serene exterior.”

“Helen?” The sickening lurch came back. “As in my grandmother Helen?”

“No.” To her relief, he shook his head. “It was quite a common name back then. Helen Streeter was her name. There are two reasons I have always worried she was responsible for Vivian’s disappearance. The first is that the rug in the bedroom was missing when I came home to find my wife had left me. Yes, she’d packed a suitcase and taken some of her clothes, but I couldn’t imagine why she would want that old rug.”

Good point.

“And the second?”

“Was that this woman tried to kill me one night. I’d told her a few days before I wasn’t going to marry her, divorce or no. At the time I couldn’t sleep anyway and I smelled the smoke in time.”

“
She
burned down the original house?”

“I saw her leave from my bedroom window. I tried to put it out, but it was an old farmhouse and it went up pretty quickly. I had to actually jump for it. That night I
knew
.”

Ellie tried to remind herself that yes, as he’d said, he’d been a fairly young man. “Did you pursue legal action against her?”

White brows lifted in an arch of disbelief. “Really? I’d lost my wife first, and then my house, and I hadn’t helped it all by behaving like a fool. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do. So, I committed the worst sin possible. I did nothing. I couldn’t prove anything. I had a missing rug and a house that caught fire and my word against Helen’s that she was ever there. I was guilty and miserable over it, and I just wanted to walk away.”

She knew what had happened then. He’d moved to Minneapolis, eventually gotten a teaching degree, met her grandmother, married her, and then finally come back to Wisconsin.

“What happened to this Helen?”

“I have no idea. Her entire family moved away while I was gone.”

The wind sighed past the eaves in a low, whistling song. Ellie offered, “Do you want me to try and find Helen Streeter? I can’t promise you anything, but I could give it my best shot.”

“That was a long time ago and I do admit I think vengeance does lie with the Lord. At our age, who knows if she is still alive? I do know I want to give Vivian a proper grave.”

“So then I find Ms. Streeter.”

For the first time since Ellie had pulled into the driveway, her grandfather smiled in a faint curve of his mouth. “If anyone could, Eleanor, it would be you.”

For a man not known for giving compliments, that was a nice one.

She rose to leave, but stopped and turned. “Answer this for me. If someone else hadn’t found the body, would you have called me?”

Her grandfather looked at her somberly and told what she thought was the complete truth. “I don’t know. In my place, under the same circumstances, what would you do?”

She didn’t have an answer.

And that was the answer.

Epilogue

Interesting office. Jason liked art, he just didn’t own any. It was hard to imagine he would have the sort of taste to effectively pick out something that would not look just as at home on the wall of a gas station.

Jason walked in and saw that the woman who greeted him was tall, with sleek dark hair cut short, and a build he would term statuesque if he actually ever used that word.

He didn’t. He knew it, but he didn’t usually say it.

He tended to say things like
she was built like a brick shithouse,
but he wasn’t sure she’d be flattered.

She didn’t flip through a chart or anything. She didn’t even have the classic notepad. The doctor just motioned him to a chair and smiled in a very generic way. “Mr. Santiago. Please have a seat and tell me why we are having a conversation.”

“Detective Santiago.” He sat down in a leather-covered chair and clasped his hands, elbows on knees. “Is that how this works? We pretend it is just a conversation?”

“We can pretend, but I would be better if you were simply honest … shall I rephrase? It seems like you prefer we are extremely candid. Why are you here?”

“It is recommended, by the city of Milwaukee, that after being shot in the line of duty, I seek some sort of counseling. The first time it happened, I decided I would take their therapist of choice, but it was kind of a waste of my time, so I declined to return to that therapist. I declined to go to any therapist, but it turns out I don’t have much latitude there. Kind of pisses me off, really.”