Thaw (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (3 page)

She managed to choke out, “It’s 133 Third Street.”

“Got it.”

The call terminated and she sank down and exhaled heavily, bracing her head in her hands. This was the worst…the worst. The cupboards were hard at her back, the kitchen floor cold. She could swear she smelled the metallic scent of blood in the air, like a miasma. Her stomach churned and the fight to not give in to it was touch and go until she heard the car pull up out front.

Show time.

Except she was sure she was too tired to put on a show. Already having met Ellie MacIntosh she knew the right questions would be asked and she would have to answer them.

Maybe answer for all of this.

Outside a cricket chirped. Susan felt the tightness in her throat. Spring was coming. She wondered what it would bring.

The answer wasn’t death. Death had already arrived.

The light was disorienting. Rose was barely conscious, or at least that was how it felt, her head too heavy to lift, her eyesight blurred. She shifted, but it was involuntary, a twitch of muscles as she tried to get away despite the fact that she was bound. Her legs were cramping now and she knew from her track training it was dehydration, not to mention she hadn’t been able to do more than flex her wrists a little bit for hours.

How many hours?

It was hard to calculate, so she tentatively moved her feet again. She had air, musty but not oppressive…Not good air—it smelled weird, cold and foreign—but it wasn’t like she was trapped in someone’s trunk.

No. No, she could sit up, or she could have if the ropes around her wrists weren’t fastened to her legs so every single time she tried to move the knots tightened in some way and it hurt.

Fucker
.

The word would make her dad unhappy, but at the moment, it seemed appropriate enough and he wasn’t there to hear her anyway. She said it again, louder, her voice shaking.

She
wished
her dad were there.

She wanted that more than anything in the world.

But she wouldn’t cry. Not one more tear. She couldn’t afford the loss of one drop of moisture.

The house reminded Ellie of her grandmother’s: painfully neat, with knickknacks on little shelves in a glass curio cabinet and an old-fashioned dining room table in a room with original moldings on the ceilings and an arched doorway.

In an absolutely colorless voice, Susan Reichert said, “The door was unlocked, and that isn’t unusual, but it was open a little, and that is. Her car is here and she’s gone and there’s blood on the kitchen floor. Obviously
that’s
not usual. That’s Vic’s jacket on the chair.”

“Vic?”

“My younger brother.” Susan was dead pale and her hand shook as she lifted it to brush back her hair from her forehead. “I should never have called her…oh God, why did I call her?”

As they spoke they walked toward the kitchen, which was as dated as the rest of the house and just as neat, except for the dark splotches on the floor. Near the back door, which was slightly ajar, there was a smear, as if someone might have stepped in it. Carefully Ellie went over and crouched down.

Yeah, blood. Hours old, but blood
.

“Did you open the back door?”

“No, it was like that. Like I said, the front door was open too.”

Interesting.

She rose and turned to look at where Susan stood in the doorway with one hand pressed to her mouth. “Let’s not touch anything until we’ve determined if there has been a crime here, understand?” Ellie spoke carefully, aware of how shaken the other woman was, and she really couldn’t blame her. “Now, tell me why you shouldn’t have called your mother and why Vic’s jacket is significant.”

Susan slowly nodded, but her eyes were luminous with tears and her voice had an angry edge. “You asked me about people coming to practice…He wasn’t there yesterday, but Vic has come before. Says it’s because I coach, just dropping by to say hi, but I have always had this feeling…I mean…he watches the girls.” She turned away for a second and blinked quickly a few times. “At first I didn’t do anything about it because…he’s my brother. I finally asked him to stay away because I didn’t want any of the parents to notice.”

“To notice what specifically?”

Susan looked away. “I am not sure exactly how to describe it, but I didn’t like it. Does that make any sense?”

It did, actually.

“I see now why you weren’t forthcoming this afternoon.” Ellie could, and she couldn’t, but recrimination was useless at the moment and what she needed—really needed—was cooperation. “Is he violent? Has he hurt anyone before? There’s no crime in watching pretty girls run around the track.”

The straightforward questions seemed to help Susan’s composure. She shook her head. “As far as I know he’s never hurt anyone, but he’s pretty antisocial usually. Doesn’t date or really have friends. Just goes to work and hangs out at home, playing video games or watching TV. He collects rocks and crystals as a hobby. That’s why him showing up to practice was a little strange.”

Still, not against the law.

“Obviously you suspected him right away when Rose disappeared. I assume you called your mother and told her that.”

Susan leaned against the doorway limply. “Suspect is the wrong word. It
occurred
to me. You don’t know him but…something isn’t
right
. He’s done this before…he’s so intent when he focuses on something and he’d asked me about her. Her name, her age…why did he want to know her age?”

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I felt horrible for even thinking it…what was I supposed to do? It wasn’t like I had any real reason to think he might hurt anyone. But when Rose was still missing this morning I called my mother and asked if she’d seen Vic. She knew I was upset…and I told her. She acted absolutely shocked and furious with me.” She stopped and took in a shuddering breath. “But to be honest, I swear, Detective, I could hear in her voice she
wasn’t
surprised.”

A supposition based on a phone call really wasn’t much of a lead, but the blood on the floor argued otherwise.

“One more thing.”

“What is it?” Ellie’s tone sharpened.

“When I heard Rose’s car wouldn’t start…well, Vic’s a mechanic. I called where he works. He went home sick at noon. He’s not answering his cell. I called my mother’s. It started to ring here. It’s on the coffee table now but was stuck in the couch. She would never leave . . .” The words trailed off on a small sob.

That was enough. Ellie’s pulse had picked up.

In a raw tone, Susan said, “Now I’m wondering if she asked him about my suspicions.”

Ellie was wondering the exact same thing, those ominous stains punctuating the question.

“Does he live here?”

“No, he rents a little house by the river.”

By the river
.

“The address?” Ellie had her phone in her hand and was putting in Johanssen’s number.

“It’s off a county road. I’ll get it for you.”

She watched Susan Reichert move stiffly away from the doorway. “I’ve got something,” Ellie said quickly into the phone. “I need a crime scene tech here ASAP, but I also have a possible suspect. This is a small town; you know Vic Reichert?”

“Not personally any longer…he is a little younger,” Johanssen said. “What about him?”

“It looks like maybe their mother is missing. There’s evidence of some kind of confrontation. He left his jacket behind and there is blood in her kitchen. Her car is still here.”

“You’re serious?” Johanssen sounded shook up. “Susan’s mother?”

“Could I make this up?”

“Damn, MacIntosh, this is moving fast…fine. Let me try and get someone there right away. Everyone has spread out. They’re bringing in dogs.”

“If he killed his mother . . .” She said it quietly. “Obviously Susan has already thought of that or she wouldn’t have called.

“I get it. Rose doesn’t have much of a chance. Look, I’ll manage it here, if you’ll bring him in for questioning. At the least, if it is him, it will buy us time to find her. I’ll get a deputy to meet you there.”

“No problem.” Ellie said grimly, accepting the slip of paper from Susan’s trembling hand. “Send someone competent to manage this scene here and I’ll run to follow my lead. Here’s the address.” She read it off. “I’m out the door. I just don’t think we’ve got the time for me to wait.”

“God, I hope you’re on the right track.”

“We have a secondary witness with a sound theory and blood on the floor of her mother’s kitchen,” Ellie said. “Can you get me a search warrant for her brother’s house?”

“I don’t even know…yes, okay, I probably can if you promise me proof I’m dragging a judge away from his dinner for a good reason.”

“Did I mention he’s a mechanic?” She didn’t mean for it to come out so terse, but she was already walking to the door. “Went home sick today.”

Johanssen swore softly. “Okay, good enough for me. I’ll get on it.”

The house was to the east of where they were searching by several miles, set back in a picturesque stand of hemlocks with a quaint sloped roof that was speckled with lichen, the front porch bare of paint but tidy, and facing the river. Once upon a time it had obviously been a summer cabin, like the ones local law enforcement currently canvassed downriver. There was a single lawn chair and an upside-down barrel for a table and the screens were all in good repair, so it would be a nice place to sit on a cool, clear evening.

No neighbor in sight either. How convenient.

But there was no car next to the small shed where he obviously parked if the ruts were any indication.

Well,
shit
.

If he was really sick—and innocent—he’d be at home, so it strengthened her conviction they were on the right track, but where was he? Still, it didn’t hurt to try. Ellie climbed the steps and banged first on the screen door. “Mr. Reichert?”

No response.

At the moment, saving Rose was her first priority, but this could have just turned into a murder investigation considering the blood splatter in his mother’s kitchen.

Missing girl, missing woman, both connected . . .

She unzipped her light jacket to make sure she had easy access to her Glock and let herself on to the porch. She rapped on the old wood door. “Vic Reichert? Mrs. Reichert?”

No movement. She tried the door handle but it was locked.

Water dripping from the eaves from melting snow was the only sound and she was all too aware it was getting later, the afternoon sliding into dusk soon. Walking back to her car, she took a flashlight from under the passenger seat and walked around the perimeter of the house, carefully looking for anything suspicious, though since Reichert lived there, his footprints would mean nothing.

The back door didn’t have a curtain and she looked in to see that for a bachelor he kept the kitchen fairly neat. Wooden table with nothing on it except a pair of grocery-store-style salt-and-pepper shakers, metal cupboards on the walls, an old sink with a dishrag hanging on the faucet, and some wooden spoons in a crock. A coat hung on a peg by a narrow door that might lead to a pantry or maybe a storm cellar.

Ellie found that door interesting, mainly because it had an obviously new padlock and the hasp had been replaced.

The back door was also locked, not that she had permission yet anyway to go in and she wouldn’t compromise a case, but if she could be certain Rose was inside . . .

“Rose?” She pounded on the back door and shouted. “Rose Beech. This is Detective Ellie MacIntosh with the county sheriff’s department. Can you hear me?”

Standing perfectly still, she listened for a response.

Just then there was the sound of a car, probably her backup from the county. Ellie quickly stepped away and was coming around the side of the house when a pickup truck pulled into the drive.

Not police, but Reichert.

Okay, awkward since she was alone.

She slipped out her ID, her gaze assessing as he got out and slammed the door.

Vic Reichert was in his late twenties and resembled his sister, his face currently drawn into a scowl. He was at least six foot two, thick shouldered, and more than capable of the physical strength it would take to drag off a slender girl like Rose. Ellie couldn’t help but note his square-toed boots were muddy and there was a similar patch on the knee of his jeans, as if he’d knelt on the still-half-frozen ground.

His stare was hostile. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Vic Reichert?” She held out her badge. “Detective MacIntosh.”

“What were you doing?”

“Just looking around. Can we talk for a few minutes, sir?”

He his arms hung loosely at his sides. “About what?”

Where the hell is that deputy?
She was armed, but there was a reason detectives usually worked in tandem, especially with a potentially dangerous suspect.

Deliberately she asked, “What do you know about the disappearance of Rose Beech?”

“That the missing high school girl?”

“One of your sister’s students, yes.”

“Why would I know anything?”

He did. She saw it in his eyes. She didn’t just read facts, she read people. A frisson of warning crawled up her spine and she was glad she was still about five feet away. “Your sister told us that you used to drop in and watch the girls at track practice.”

“That was nice of her,” he said in a surly voice and rubbed his chin. There was something dark under his nails, but then again, he was a mechanic. However, if she had to call it, she’d say it was dirt to match the muddy boots and jeans.

“She was being helpful. Care to do the same?”

“Look, Detective whoever-you-are, I used to throw shot on the team when I was in high school. So I dropped by practice every once in a while, like a nostalgia thing. Susan has no idea what or who I was watching. She was busy walking around with her whistle and clipboard. But she asked me to quit coming by, and so I did. End of story. Are we done here?”

It was getting colder, the late afternoon sun was filtered by the trees, and soon it would be dusk, and then dark.

Susan’s instincts had been right on target. Ellie realized it, and even as that sank in she started to re-evaluate the situation.

Alone.

Getting dark.

She shook her head. “Not quite. When was the last time you saw your mother?” Rose was important, but so was Mrs. Reichert. It was impossible to weigh human life on any kind of scale. She wanted to find them both.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He was argumentative and she didn’t like it at all. Most people, when faced with a police officer, at least attempted to cooperate.

As calmly as possible, she said, “We think she’s missing too.”

“My mother? The hell she is. She called me about an hour ago.”

Ah, perfect. The first outright lie. “How did she manage that? She left her cell phone at her house.” Ellie’s hands were getting cold but she didn’t dare put them into her pockets.