Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (19 page)

No one extended that courtesy anymore it seemed. Did that make him weird or just nice?

Ellie took off her coat and sat down in one of the spindly looking chairs, relieved to see the tabletop was clean, if worn, propped her elbows on it, and pointed at the beer. “This for me?”

“Absolutely.” Bryce sat down too. “Or would you like something else?”

Would she? There was no delicate way to point out it was stupid to accept a drink if a woman couldn’t see the man offering it to her pour it. The only reason she’d taken a glass of wine the other night was because Bryce Grantham hadn’t known she was coming by. She took a second, and said, “Thanks, I’ll get my own.”

It took him a moment, but then he caught on, his smile humorless. “You have no need to worry, but help yourself.”

She did, going up to the bar, and her purpose wasn’t just to make sure she saw her drink being served from the tap, but she’d already noted Gravelly behind the bar tonight. He recognized her too, his gaze sliding away as if he didn’t, but it was obvious enough. “Yeah?”

“Draft, please.”

He smoked unfiltered cigarettes, she noted by the ashtray near the cash register, or it was most likely him, though he had the good sense not to during business hours. Always a good source of DNA if they needed it. She paid for her drink and took it back to the table. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Bryce Grantham’s mouth twisted. “No problem. I’d put off this meeting indefinitely if I could.”

To say that comment made her curious was an understatement. His tense expression said he was probably serious. This evening he wore a soft flannel shirt open at the throat, blue jeans, and his dark hair fell in the usual attractive unruly waves around his face. A leather jacket hung over the back of his chair. Long fingers moved in a restless mannerism on the condensation on the side of his cup and the set of his lean jaw spoke of an obvious inner conflict.

In the background someone made what must have been an impressive pool shot because there was a series of whoops and shouts from that area of the bar rendering conversation impossible for a moment. After things settled down, Ellie said as evenly as possible, “Put it off why?”

“Because the truth is, I don’t want any part of this.”

“‘This’ being the investigation right now under way because women are being abducted and some of them are turning up dead? Please, Dr. Grantham, it’s our job and we don’t want to be part of it either.”

He gave her a humorless smile. “At this point, let’s admit your end is better than mine. What I have to tell you is just going to make it worse.” For a minute his dark eyes looked unfocused and tired. “I tried to think my way out of this scenario, but just couldn’t. I can’t really figure out how to deal with this, but have reconciled myself to the fact I do know how I
can’t
deal with it.”

That cryptic statement didn’t do anything except exacerbate her interest. She drank her beer and waited. A country song started on what could be the oldest jukebox in the world. The beer was a little flat and the song depressing, but the atmosphere seemed to suit the mood of the discussion.

The man across from her gave a ragged laugh that held no mirth at all and ran his hand through his ebony hair. The rumpled result made him look younger and more attractive than ever.

Why the hell she had to notice that she wasn’t sure, but she
did
notice.

“I don’t know how to say this but … Oh hell, let me rephrase. I
really
don’t how to say this, but I’m going to give it a try. Look, Detective, for whatever reason I believe that another one of your victims has turned up on my parents’ property.”

It took her a moment to absorb the roundabout confession. Ellie blinked and stared incredulously at Bryce Grantham as it sunk in.
One of your victims …

“Can you clarify?” Her voice sounded hoarse. She cleared her throat and didn’t wait for him to respond. “Are you telling me you found another body?”

He shook his head, his eyes haunted. Then he nodded. Just one quick inclination of his head. There were lines incised by his mouth and his lips looked pale. “Not quite sure, but yes, I think so. Not a body, though. It’s just bones, and I’m not positive they are human, but … well, I guess certain enough I called you.”

She sat back in the chair so abruptly it creaked loudly, the implications whirling through her mind. After a moment she said more sharply than she intended, “Tell me what happened.”

With obvious reluctance he complied, outlining an early morning trek to the woodpile to split wood—it
had
been damned cold the night before—and how he hadn’t noticed the skeletal remains at first until he took off more logs.

The cop in her was outraged. “It’s evening,” she said unnecessarily, jabbing a finger toward the darkened narrow windows in the front of the room. “You found it this
morning
? Why did you wait? Now we can’t process until tomorrow.”

“I debated calling the police the last time,” he shot back defensively. “What would you do if you were me? Put yourself in my shoes, Detective.” His face was tight.

That stopped her, hung on the threshold of her anger. Ellie took in a breath and splayed her hands on the tabletop. She was disconcerted, off balance, and didn’t know precisely what to do. It was one thing to have the discovery of a possible homicide victim called in.
That
she knew how to deal with. To have the tidbit dropped like a bomb over a drink in a nondescript tavern was something else. After a moment of inner debate, she said slowly, “I don’t know. This is too … weird. If you are innocent of anything to do with these women, the way you stay in the middle of this investigation is beyond coincidence and well into a horror novel.”

“I agree.” He glanced away, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “I have the advantage of knowing I had nothing to do with any of this. The first two times just happened, Detective. Call it coincidence or good luck, or bad luck depending on your point of view. This morning … that was
planned
. I’ve had all day to think about it. Who all knows my name in connection to the finding of the bodies?”

Ellie digested the insinuation. “You think those bones were planted?’

“
I
didn’t do it.” Bryce sounded strained but reasonable. “And when you see how they are arranged, I think you’ll agree there isn’t anything natural about it.”

“Shit,” she muttered.

Bryce went on. “Let’s say you are the killer out there and someone is connected to two of your victims. Maybe the chance aspect of it amuses you, or maybe you realize this is an opportunity to pin everything on someone else. To deflect the police in a different direction.”

Sonny and Cher started singing “I Got You, Babe.” Ellie rubbed her temple and tried to block the song out. “Probably the entire sheriff’s department knows your name. It wouldn’t surprise me. It isn’t a big secret and there is no reason to keep it out of the reports. I’m surprised the media hasn’t picked it up yet, but give them time. For all I know it was on the six o’clock news as I pulled into the parking lot outside. Don’t forget the coroner’s office either. I can’t give you an exact roster of who knows.”

“I assume that includes all their spouses, maybe neighbors, friends, grandmothers … this thing is pretty high profile up here. I’m screwed.” He made a gesture indicating futility with his hand.

And maybe, if he was law-abiding and innocence personified, he had a reason to be unhappy with the system poised to perhaps vilify him, and if not that, at least play with the idea of it.

All right, she felt a glimmer of sympathy for him. Maybe it was the slight wobble in his voice. “It
should
be high profile,” she countered, trying to sort out this new development. “There are four missing women, one of which turned up dead. That’s a lot for a big city, much less a county with less than thirty thousand year-round residents.”

“It isn’t that I don’t concede that point. It’s just I don’t want to be a part of it. Now this son of a bitch is doing his best to see I have no choice.” The bitterness in his tone cut through the cloying sentiment of the song playing in the background.

“It looks like it,” she agreed, thinking about it. Grantham became more of a suspect with each ticking minute and he was sitting right in front of her. She’d set her purse on the floor and she retrieved it, took out a pen and a notebook, and clicked the pen open. “Go over this for me step by step again.”

He did. Waking up cold. Frosty crisp leaves. Wood chopped for a stove that needed to be lit. Bones supposedly stacked amid those slumbering logs suddenly noticed.

Ellie looked again at the flat black of the windows of the tavern. Outside it was pure early Wisconsin November. Pitch dark, cold, enigmatic. It was pointless to try and investigate the scene at this time of night.

“You didn’t touch anything?” she asked out of habit.

“I’m getting pretty good at this by now,” he said with a sardonic smile. “No. I touched nothing on purpose but I stepped on some evidence. I went around the back of the woodpile to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I’m not an authority on the matter, but I’d guess it was part of a hand. It crunched…”

He stopped, his voice cracking. Then he exhaled heavily and turned away so the clean line of his profile was all she could see as he stared at a neon Coors sign in the window. “It crunched.
Jesus
.”

At that moment, she believed his distress. She had, for the most part, all along. The question was did this third discovery exonerate him or implicate him more? “Is it possible the bones have been there for some time?” she asked with less of the interrogator in her voice.

“I suppose they could have been put there anytime during my stay this week but they weren’t there before my arrival up here. My father puts a tarp over the wood when they leave each time. It was tied in place and covered with wet leaves when I took it off the other day. I didn’t pay close attention, of course, but I’d say it hadn’t been moved since their last visit in September. Either it was done while I was out during the day, or done at night. If it was at night, he must have come on foot. I would have heard a car.”

Once again, unfortunately for her, Ellie had an excellent imagination. She had no trouble picturing a stealthy figure creeping through the woods, carrying a bag of human remains.

A serial killer who had retrieved one of his grisly prizes and was intent on a personal delivery.

Crap
.

She shut the vision off. “Dr. Grantham, maybe you shouldn’t stay out there alone tonight. Our guy seems to have taken a personal interest in you, and I don’t know how you feel about it, but there is no one I’d like less trespassing on my property while I’m asleep. Besides, I’d like the least amount of traffic possible through there until we can get in and see what we’ve got. There’s a Super 8 motel in Merrill and a Comfort Inn in Tomahawk. In the meantime, when was the last time you had something to eat?” Ellie checked her watch. “For me it was a fast food hamburger almost eight hours ago. I’m going to call this in and talk to the sheriff. Then if you’d care to follow me into town, I’ll buy you dinner.”

He looked bemused at the offer, his ebony brows lifting a fraction. “Are police officers supposed to take suspects to dinner, Detective?”

Ellie stood and started to put her coat back on. He got up at once and helped her. His mother had done a good job in his youth, apparently, for it seemed reflexive, not something he even thought about. She adjusted her collar and gave him a cynical smile. “Look at it this way, Dr. Grantham. It’s an easy way to keep an eye on you.”

Chapter 15

He was restive, in another place, nervous in a way he remembered too well, ready for it to be over.

The room was dark and smelled off, like old meat. He pulled the chain and the light came on, the quiet oppressive when it had once been peaceful.

The Hunter walked over to the corner and opened the door.

It was time to say good-bye again.

*   *   *

The red of
the taillights on Ellie MacIntosh’s small Toyota four-wheel-drive flashed in front of him as she pulled into the busy parking lot of a weathered lodge with a rustic sign that proclaimed it T
HE
A
NTLER
I
NN
. Bryce parked four spaces away in one of the only other available spots on what was apparently a busy Saturday night.

Eight days. Eight days ago he’d arrived in Wausau for that boring conference and things had taken a steep downward slide since that less than auspicious beginning. He certainly hadn’t ever pictured himself having dinner with a police detective because he was the focus of interest in a murder case. He should probably call his parents and warn them before the horrific presence in their woodpile splattered across national headlines.

Had Ellie MacIntosh not been quite so pretty, and his desire to go back to the cabin at such low ebb, he would have declined her invitation. As things stood, he was glad of the company, even if it was an attractive woman not completely convinced he wasn’t a serial killer.

Nice way to score a first date, Grantham
.
Very clever
.

She waited for him in the covered entry, the light wind ruffling her honey-colored hair. Her hazel eyes were as always disconcertingly direct. “I’m assuming since you fish, you eat fish. They have great walleye here. The steaks aren’t bad if the fishing thing is a façade.”

He assured her it wasn’t a front, and opened the glass-fronted doors for her. Inside the place smelled wonderful, a mingling of grilled meat and cholesterol-laden fried dishes, and the hostess led them to a booth accented by the log walls, red faux leather seats, and low, fan-shaped lighting. The menu was printed on the place mat and the silverware wrapped in a paper napkin. Ellie ordered a glass of Chablis and he chose a Heineken dark.

“I’m famished,” his companion said. As usual she wore almost no makeup as far as he could tell, and in the unreasonably dim light from what might have been a twenty-five-watt bulb in the light fixture above their table, she looked younger than she probably was, more college girl than detective.