Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (27 page)

The roads were impassable, the county on lockdown, and he just needed to go back to sleep. As it was, he’d barely made it back to his house due to the icy conditions and blocked roads. If it wasn’t for the woodstove and thermal underwear, he’d be freezing.

But try as he might, he only managed to roll around in the bed and curse the howl of the wind until he dropped off into a restive doze.

*   *   *

Coffee boiled on
the stove, like her grandmother used to make, wasn’t really all that great. Ellie sipped from her cup and nodded, reluctant to criticize anything she didn’t have to exert herself to make. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s hot and resembles a dark liquid consumed at breakfast.” Bryce moved efficiently between the stove and the counter where two plates were laid out. “The coffeemaker isn’t working. At least we can have something to eat. How many eggs?”

She planted her elbows on the table and admired how he looked in just jeans and a T-shirt. That just-up tousled look worked well on him, and so did the shadow of a dark beard. “Two. Can you cook?”

“Eggs? Yes.”

“Anything else?” She was admittedly curious, especially now. The night—and this morning—had been … different for her.

Yes, that was the right word, different. She didn’t pick up guys, bring them home, and invite them into her bed.

However, if that scenario always worked out like what had happened between her and Bryce Grantham, she might decide to make it a habit. It could have been the most memorable sex of her life.

“Bacon.” He bent over and peered into her refrigerator, retrieving a clear package. “Of which you have three slices.”

“Of questionable shelf life probably.” It was hard to not admire the view. He had a nice ass.

“It smells okay.”

“Go for it.” She grinned and drank more overboiled coffee. “Cook the hell out of it and it can’t hurt us, right? Besides, I like my bacon really crisp.”

“Crisp it is.”

“Over easy on the eggs.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

The day had dawned cold and gray and dismal, not bright and sunny like so often after a storm. Mother Nature wasn’t done quite yet. Tree branches, still laden with ice, drooped unnaturally outside the big picture window, the sill crusted with crystalline snow like small prisms. At least the wind had died down, but according to the weather radio, it was supposed to pick up again later.

Bryce put a pat of butter in a frying pan, cracked two eggs as if he knew what he was doing, and peered at the bacon, which had started to sizzle. In the thin light coming in the big window, he looked less strained, she thought. The taut lines near his mouth had eased.

“Getting a little sleep did you some good,” she remarked, sitting on one of the two stools at the small bar that separated her kitchen from the great room.

“It wasn’t just the sleep.” He glanced over at her with a brief smile.

Swathed in her favorite robe, wearing thick socks, and with her hair uncombed, Ellie didn’t feel too sexy at the moment, but his smile did some interesting things to the pit of her stomach.

Nothing like getting laid, is there?

It was funny, though, she didn’t think he would ever put it that way. She worked with too many men; that was the problem. Not all of them were crude, but some certainly were, and she had never gotten that impression from Bryce.

Her cell phone was on the counter and she opened it for the third time since she’d gotten up. “Still no signal. I’m wondering if the storm took out the closest tower.”

“I’d guess you’re right. I’m surprised I still have it after the search the other day, but you can try my phone if you want.” He flipped the bacon over with impressive expertise and reached into his pocket to slip out his cell phone and set it within reach.

“We can check the records of your calls through your server just as easy, so there was no need to take it,” she said wryly. “Don’t worry, if you talk to your mother four times a day, we’ll know it.”

“I don’t,” he said after a short pause and a shrug. “I suppose it shouldn’t bother me, but it still does. Invasion of privacy, I guess. My nondescript life bared for all to see.”

“Not all,” she corrected, sympathetic but also thinking about the case. About those lonely bones strewn in that woodpile. About Margaret Wilson’s decomposing body. “Just the detectives and officers involved need to know everything. We want to nail this guy. I’m sure you understand we can’t leave a single possibility loose on this.”

He deftly slid out the two eggs onto one of the plates she taken from the cupboard and nodded. “I’ve cooperated.”

“We appreciate it.”

He glanced up, a lock of dark hair falling over his brow. “Don’t go all detective on me now, Ellie.”

“Sorry. It’s part of the package.”

The part that intimidated most men, or turned them off, or whatever it was that prevented her from having anything but mediocre dates since Brian that led strictly nowhere. For that matter, Brian had led nowhere too.

“Well, that’s fair warning. Thanks.” He took the bacon out of the skillet, drained it briefly on a paper towel, and added two strips to the eggs before bringing it over to put the plate in front of her. “Go ahead and eat while it’s hot. Mine will be done in a minute.”

He did join her a minute or two later, perching on the next stool, his long fingers wrapped around a thick mug that said, ironically,
Cops Make Better Lovers,
given to her as a joke by a colleague her rookie year. “I think you might be able to get footprints by my Land Rover.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we had some nasty weather last night.”

“I noticed, but it might be in our favor.”

That seemed unlikely but Ellie dipped a piece of bacon in her egg yoke and took a bite, lifting her brows in unspoken inquiry. She was all ears. Anything to help solve this damned case.

He took a sip of coffee, his face thoughtful. “I looked around a little, but by then the ice was coming down pretty good. However, it snowed first, and he definitely put the earrings on top of the snow before the ice started. I couldn’t even tell what was there at first. Even with all the wind and fresh snow on top of it, the ice probably preserved his trail, so to speak. The wind didn’t really start until the line of the front shifted.”

That was all probably true, but she was doubtful any evidence survived the storm.

Bryce went on doggedly. “Whoever flattened my tire must have parked somewhere nearby and walked through the woods. Maybe you could get tire imprints. This is a big area as far as the countryside goes, but it has a small population with few stores. Most people I know shop for tires pretty close to home.”

“True enough, but it isn’t nearly as easy as it looks on television to match evidence like that and tire casting in ice and snow might be impossible, not to mention getting investigators to the scene right now.”

“If it can be determined where he parked, that alone will tell you something. I’m going to guess whoever was there headed home. Any outdoorsman would know the roads were going to get bad. Whatever direction he drove off in gives you at least a starting point.”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up too much. The evidence will start to deteriorate the minute the weather improves.”

Bryce snapped a piece of bacon in half and took a bite, then laid the uneaten part back on his plate. His dark eyes were somber. “You’ll get more chances.”

It was very quiet except for the outside drone of the generator and the crack as resin snapped in a log in the fireplace. “If you have a theory, don’t stop now,” Ellie prompted, one elbow propped on the counter, her gaze on his face. “Go on. Maybe you aren’t law enforcement but you have a stake in this, I’ll acknowledge that.”

“The game has changed, I think,” he said in measured tones. “At first he killed these women and hid them because it was his little special secret. I don’t know how much media the disappearances got, but I do know that the discovery of the bodies has gotten a lot of press all over the state.”

“Oh, you’re right.” And he was. It was one of the points of this case that irked the hell out of her. She told him, “He’s a celebrity now. One of two things is going to happen. He’s going to stop and lay low until it all calms down, or he is going to up the stakes.”

“How? You’re the homicide detective. A bit of a warning would be nice. I must admit I’m damn sick of his surprises.”

“I’m going to guess,” she said slowly, “he is really going to want to impress you. After all, you are getting credit for his work.”

“Jesus, Ellie.” Bryce set aside his coffee as if he couldn’t stomach another sip.

She was just too damn afraid she was right. “He’s already giving us evidence,” she said with a small nod.
Bastard,
she thought. “But
through
you now. I listened to the profiler from the FBI and I don’t doubt what he said was accurate to the extent of the information we gave him, but I’m living these cases and have been for a year and a half. He’s punishing you for finding Margaret Wilson, but he’s also enjoying the partnership.”

“We aren’t partners.”

“Aren’t you? Four women dead. You’ve been in contact one way or the other with three of them. It gets him off. He likes the danger. Most killers do.”

“He’s gotten away with it four times,” Bryce agreed. In profile, his clean-cut features were remote. “I’m going to guess it’s like freestyle mountain climbing. Daunting as hell at first, exhilarating when you make it to the top, and then as you get better and better at it, the fear goes away and you think you’ll never fall.”

“An interesting analogy.”

“Uh-oh. I recognize that look now.” He almost visibly shook off the conversation and cut into one of his eggs. It was perfect, not too runny, not too firm, the edges of the white just a little bit crispy. “Let me forestall the question. No, I’ve never been freestyle rock climbing. I picked that because I’ve always wondered why the hell anyone would ever take the risk.”

“Like murdering someone and hiding the body.”

He looked at her steadily. “I’ve never done that either.”

They were at 99 percent now. Almost one hundred. Ellie said calmly, “If I thought you had, do you think you’d really be here? Would last night have happened?”

“We just confirmed there are risk takers out there. Are you one, Detective?”

She wasn’t sure how she would have answered that question, but all of a sudden someone pounded on her door, making her jump. It wasn’t that early—after eight o’clock now, and she wasn’t due on duty until ten—but with the insulation of the aftermath of the storm, she didn’t expect it. Ellie slid off the stool with a mutter, and was only halfway to the door when the person pounded again.

“Coming,” she called, padding across the floor in stocking feet, taking a moment to peek out the glass panel next to the front door. Snow, more snow, and one very large police officer, square jaw, thick shoulders …

She undid the dead bolt and opened the door. “Rick?”

“You aren’t answering your cell.” He stamped in past her, bringing a swirl of cold air and not a small amount of snow, which wasn’t in character. Yes, he was impatient, but he wasn’t rude normally.

Or agitated, she realized a second later, when she registered his reddened cheeks weren’t totally due to the freezing temps. “I don’t have signal at the moment because of the weather. What is it?”

“Get dressed. We’ve got a double homicide.”

The raspy statement registered as he swung around. “What?” she repeated incredulously.

“Reginald Walters and someone we can’t identify. No sign of Keith. So much for the happy family unit.” He ripped off a glove. “Do I smell coffee? I hope you don’t mind if I grab some while you put some clothes on.”

“I’ll get it.”

At the sound of Bryce’s voice, Rick’s head whipped around. “What the fuck?”

*   *   *

Bryce wasn’t surprised
over Deputy Jones’ reaction, but he wasn’t exactly flattered either. However his partner felt about the case, it was clear Jones wasn’t nearly as assured Bryce wasn’t still running in first place as the guilty candidate in Wisconsin’s race for the current most notorious murderer.

“I called in his report,” Ellie said briskly, walking past toward the bedroom. It wasn’t as if she was wearing a blinking sign that said S
LEPT WITH
S
USPECT
, but Bryce could tell she was at least a little uncomfortable. “Tree fell across the drive to the cabin and he couldn’t get out, but it sounds like our killer might have left another present for us on the Grantham property. I’m hoping we can get
something
when a crime scene team can get in there. Give me about two minutes.”

She disappeared into the bedroom and Bryce went ahead and took a cup from the cupboard and poured some coffee into it from the pot on the stove, and wordlessly went to hand it over.

“Thanks,” Jones said sarcastically, his eyes assessing as he took the cup, his jaw stuck at a dangerous angle.

“No problem.” He was taller and Bryce knew maybe it was useless male pride, but he didn’t sit back down. Despite Bryce’s superior height, Ellie’s partner probably outweighed him by forty pounds and he didn’t trust the man’s impartiality at the moment.

“She brought you
here
?”

The answer was obvious enough that Bryce didn’t say anything, just lifted his brows a little.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Rick took a gulp of coffee that might have drained half the cup and shook his head, his mouth tight.

“And oddly enough, she’s still alive.” Bryce didn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “Do I get points for good behavior?”

“No comment, though, trust me, I’d love to.” Jones brushed at some snow on his parka, heedless of the floor. “I’d
really
love to.”

“I get that impression.”

“If you think, Dr. Grantham, that I don’t want to slam my fist into someone right now, think again. This is supposed to be a quiet place and people are dying all over the county.” He adjusted the flap on his hat and his pale blue eyes held a hint of unmistakable anger. “I wouldn’t push it.”