Buried (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (31 page)

“The first time?”

“Twice in the chest. This is just a scratch.”

“But still … a second shooting. It sounds like that might be traumatizing. Was it?”

“I think I would vote that it ticked me off more than anything. I was about to return to duty.”

Dr. Lukens had slightly almond-shaped eyes and they regarded him with an almost disconcerting directness. “It sounds like you like what you do. Being a detective then, for you, is a rewarding occupation. What about it, would you say, appeals to you so much?”

If there was anything he despised in this world it was sitting around talking about his feelings. But Metzger had made it crystal clear he had to be cleared by a professional to get back to the job. Hence this evaluation.

He wasn’t sure if asking Ellie for the name of her shrink was a good idea or not, but he liked the irony of it.

“Well, for one, when people shoot at me, I get to shoot back. A real advantage, don’t you think, Doctor?”

“I suppose that is true enough, but that could be said of the military too.”

“I was in for four years before I became a police officer.”

“I see. So apparently you like order in this world and are willing to risk your life to preserve it.”

Jason rubbed his neck and stifled a wince. His arm was healing nicely, so sometimes he forgot it was still pretty sore. “I don’t know if I have ever looked at it that way. I do know I am not suited for sitting in a cubicle all day, or driving a trash truck, or wearing a suit and schmoozing clients of some kind. All of those occupations sound boring as hell. When I get up in the morning, I never know what is going to happen that day.”

“That extends to possibly being shot in the line of duty, quite obviously. Do you think you have anxiety over it possibly happening again?”

“Performance anxiety?” He probably shouldn’t have said it, but couldn’t resist the grin. “Me? Not one of my problems.”

“Do you often use flippancy to deflect questions that make you uncomfortable, Detective Santiago?”

“I
always
use flippancy to deflect questions that make me uncomfortable.” He relented then, because this interview was pretty important. “No, seriously, I’m not anxious for it to happen again, because quite frankly, it really hurts. Do I wake at night sweating over it? No, again. I’m not built that way, I guess. I think I can reliably say I will handle dangerous situations exactly the same way I handled them before either one of the incidents that resulted in me being shot.”

Dr. Lukens said dryly, “Maybe a little more caution might be in order.”

“Hey, I might have been shot, but too much caution can get you killed.”

“I will keep that in mind. Tell me, then, do you feel you are ready to return to duty as soon as you are cleared on a health basis by your physician?”

“Absolutely.”

“No other problems? Nothing you wish to discuss?”

He shouldn’t have hesitated even for one moment. But he did, and she caught it. Her gaze sharpened. “Yes?”

“This has nothing to do with my ability to serve the homicide division of the Milwaukee Police Department, okay? But maybe I need to talk to someone about it.”

“You are in luck. That happens to be what I am here for.”

Man, this was really actually hard to say. “My partner is your patient.”

“He is?”

“How many homicide detectives do you have seeing you?
She
is.”

Her saw her connect the dots. Georgia Lukens cleared her throat. “Not everyone tells me what they do, Detective, and virtually every single patient comes here for a different reason.” Before he could speak, she lifted her hand. “And don’t ask me what hers is. Just as what we say here is strictly confidential and only between the two of us, so is every word she and I exchange.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.” He was telling the truth. He blew out a short breath. “We were just assigned together early this summer and I have a small problem with her. Or maybe a big problem. I’m not sure which it is, but a problem for sure.”

“Perhaps you should talk to your supervisor about it.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t that kind of problem.”

“Define it for me.”

Well, he had a slight problem there too. However, he had to admit, there was something freeing in being able to talk to someone who couldn’t tell anyone else what you said. “I find her attractive,” he said bluntly. “Like I have some seriously impure thoughts that involve both of us sans clothing and communicating with body language only. Got it?”

“I do, actually.” Dr. Lukens laughed softly. “You have an extremely direct way of expressing yourself, Detective. So you have sexual feelings about Ellie MacIntosh. That isn’t surprising, if it makes you feel better. When men and women are put together on a constant basis, relationships often form. The single most likely person a spouse is going to cheat with is a coworker. She is a very pretty young woman and shares your passion for law enforcement. I think I might be more surprised if you didn’t feel that way.”

“Well, for your information, I’m not all that happy about it.” An understatement.

“You don’t like the vulnerability.”

“It’s just plain counterproductive. She’s involved with someone else, and the last thing we need, either of us, is for me to make decisions in a dangerous situation based on me wanting to protect her.”

There. He’d said it. It was kind of interesting, but he was relieved to just blurt it out and get it all off his chest.

“Ah, so these feelings aren’t just sexual.”

“I’d appreciate it if you left the word feelings out of every single statement you make.”

“Yes, I get that impression about you.” Georgia Lukens tapped her fingers on her desktop for a moment. “I’m going to tell you what, Detective. In my evaluation I am going to say that I think you are certainly emotionally ready to return to your job whenever your physician clears you on the basis of your health.”

That was an enormous relief. What he didn’t need in his life was a bad evaluation from a therapist that would shoot him in the foot with Metzger.

“But?” He could read people. That was what made him a good detective. He was already halfway to his feet, but correctly interpreted her expression.

“I think you could maybe benefit from another session or two.”

“Don’t you all say that to keep your clients?”

“I suppose some of us do if you are lumping me into some sort of category, but can I ask you if you disagree?”

“My last girlfriend was getting her Ph.D. in psychology. I’ve been analyzed half to death, trust me.”

“And I remind you of her?” Lukens looked amused.

“You both have great tits.”

She was unfazed. “Thank you. Yet, still, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Do I have unresolved issues?” He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I do, but introduce me to a perfectly adjusted person. It isn’t possible, because there is no such thing.”

“I can’t say as I disagree, but we aren’t aiming for perfection, just maybe more clarity.”

“I’m not positive I want more clarity. This world can be a very bad place and I see that clear enough already. What I do is try to take some of the badness out of the equation.”

“But what do you do for yourself?”

“Drink beer, watch a little porn now and then, not the hard stuff—”

“Crack jokes to cover your feelings.” The interruption was mild. “Yes, I said that word again, but you must acknowledge that all day long, and even all night long when we dream, we feel something about every minute that passes, whether or not it is irritation over a traffic delay, or appreciation for a good meal, or sadness because someone we know was hurt or betrayed, or maybe even that has happened to us.”

“Dwelling on it doesn’t do anything to change it.”

“A healthy attitude.”

He spread his hands. “You see, I’m fine.”

“I am not sure I would go that far, but you certainly are functional in my opinion as a law-enforcement officer.” She pointed to a door with a discreet exit sign embossed on a gold plaque. “There is a separate exit to preserve the privacy of my patients. It was a pleasure to meet you, Detective Santiago.”

“You too.” He meant it. If she was going to get him back on the job, then she was currently his favorite person on this earth.

He had no idea what prompted it, maybe the warm fuzziness he felt toward Dr. Lukens at the moment, but he paused with his hand on the doorknob and surprised himself by saying, “I’ll think about another session.”

*   *   *

The evening was
cool but clear, and on the news they had promised a true harvest moon later. Ellie sat on the back deck and sipped a very smooth Merlot, her body relaxed.

Bryce had grilled some lamb chops and served them with small roasted fingerling potatoes and chilled asparagus with aioli. It had been delicious and she had eaten with true appreciation.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

The quiet question made her glance up. Bryce settled into an opposite deck chair, his gaze full of speculation. Even though it was getting pretty chilly his feet were bare and there was just a hint of ragged white on the hem of the worn jeans that hugged his long legs.

“The prosecutor isn’t going to go after Joanne for anything. There is a pretty solid argument she was coerced and the threat was obviously real.”

Three dead police officers and another one wounded. Yes, the threat was real.

“Ambition is a very powerful motivation.” Bryce sounded more philosophical than surprised. Ever the scholar, looking in on human behavior was more an exercise in curiosity than something that required his participation. “I also think Ely Henley, like so many powerful men, tends to forget he can actually be held accountable. I’m sorry for his son, who will have to live with this for the rest of his life.”

“Me too.” She took another sip of wine. Stretching out her legs, she surveyed the indigo sky. “I love fall. The air smells different.”

“Ellie, not that the Henley case isn’t interesting, but I was really asking about Helen Streeter.”

Like she didn’t know that. Was she ready to talk about it? Maybe.

“She’s still alive. Up until a year or so ago, she lived alone in an apartment in Saint Louis, but she’s in a county nursing home now. I talked to the director and it seems she has some lucid moments, but it isn’t reliable enough, or so I was told, for me to take the time to make the journey to question her.”

“And what would be the point?”

That was actually a hard question to answer. She could emphasize the woman had probably murdered her grandfather’s first wife, but it really was over half a century ago. The only benefit would be an affirmation that they knew the truth.

“I could give my grandfather some peace.”

“It seems to me that he came to terms with it long ago. I am not saying in any fashion he is fine with what happened. I am just saying the reality of it is not going to change anything for him. You are the one who needs to hear a confession and it doesn’t sound like you would get a reliable one.”

Santiago had told her almost exactly the same thing. Ellie stifled a defensive comment. “Helen Streeter never married. Worked as a clerk in a law office for most of her life, which I find intensely ironic. Her only sister died in a car accident in her late thirties.”

“It doesn’t sound like a very fulfilling life.”

“She didn’t deserve one.”

“I doubt that anyone would disagree with you.”

She changed the subject, because he was right. Essentially that case was closed. “Grasso is being permanently reassigned to homicide, or at least that is the rumor.”

Dark brows went upward. “What about Santiago? New partner for him, or new partner for Grasso?”

“Metzger hasn’t said anything yet to me.”

“Either way it will be interesting. Santiago has some challenges attached to him, not the least of which seems to be his ability to get himself into situations involving bullets.”

“If I may play devil’s advocate, first of all his job involves some danger, and it seems to me I’ve gotten you in one of those situations and myself in more than one, so can we discount that aspect?” Then, curious, she asked, “Which one of them do you like better?”

“Me?”

“Santiago or Grasso? I respect your opinion, though to be honest, it is up to the chief.”

“An interesting one, but okay. Grasso. He’s a fairly complicated guy, in my opinion, on the outside, but not so much so on closer inspection. He’s driven, and he doesn’t really have a big agenda. He likes the job—maybe even lives it. His ghosts aren’t the bad kind, but he has them.”

The bloodred spread of the sunset was appropriate to the conversation. “And Santiago?”

“Is a fairly uncomplicated man on the outside, but that’s deceptive.” Bryce took a sip of wine. “I am going to guess his ghosts would make a person wake up sweating in the middle of the night. If I can go a little further, I would speculate they both would disagree with me if they were sitting here right now.”

She would guess exactly the same thing.

“I didn’t renew my lease.” Another change in subject.

Bryce processed it without a blink. “That’s progress.”

She had to admit she gazed at him in exasperation. “Somehow I thought you’d be a little more effusive.”

“And scare you away? No.”

This was where she should protest he wouldn’t scare her away …

But he probably could.

“So, I’m moving in.”

“Looks that way.” Bryce turned and looked at the sunset. “What are you going to tell your grandfather?”

“That I found a new place to live. No details supplied.”

“I meant about Helen.”

She’d known what he meant … the entire world was evasive with her, wasn’t she entitled to be so now and then?

Slowly, she said, “I think he doesn’t want to know.”

“We all aren’t hunters, Ellie. Besides, it sounds like he’s been dealing with the guilt for a long, long time. He doesn’t need the answer. He has known it for half a century.”

That made sense … she knew it to be true.

“Okay. So what’s next?” She considered the ruby liquid in her glass.

“We debate over whether or not you like the couch in the living room.”