Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (33 page)

She refused to say “alive.” That would assume that Jane was dead, and while it was frightening to think that might be the case, it was never a certainty without the body.

Pearson waited a minute and when he did speak his voice was tight. “Dammit, Ellie. He’s the son of a friend.”

Her fingers had tightened around the handle of the cup and she had to consciously relax them before she snapped off the ceramic piece, her mind starting to pick up the pace. “Our killer knows the area really well, sir.”

Silence on the other end. Pearson finally said, “Neil’s been caught several times by the DNR hunting out of season, trespassing here and there. Got fined each time. Russell keeps an eye on him.”

“What does that mean? Keeps an eye on him?”

“I doubt it means anything.” Pearson was testy, unhappy. “I just hope if this all goes to trial with Grantham, his high-powered lawyer doesn’t tear Neil to shreds as a witness. We need more than what we have.”

Ellie swiveled on her stool, propping her feet on the lowest rung. “Well, we don’t have it, sir. Not one shred of physical evidence.”

“Except Grantham at every single scene where we’ve discovered anything related to the crimes except the cars.”

“Where
he’s
discovered anything we have. I’ll grant you it’s suspicious.”

“Do you
think
, Detective?”

She ignored the sarcasm. “But nothing conclusive. Like you said, we need something more. You could arrest him, but there’s no way we’d get an indictment and since he doesn’t have a record or look like a flight risk, I’ve no doubt his lawyer would have him out on bail immediately and then what have we accomplished?”

“May I repeat myself and say I hope, Detective MacIntosh, you are keeping an objective view of this case. I pulled Jones off of it because he can’t function without prejudice any longer. I’m aware Grantham stayed at your house the night of the storm.”

“There wasn’t much of a choice.” Luckily, over the phone Pearson couldn’t see her face flush. “The circumstances were unusual. I felt safe enough, and look, here I am, still breathing.”

“This whole damn thing is unusual and Grantham is too smart to do anything to you.”

She’d made that point to Bryce once before. She was also going to have to process what happened between them later—after the case was over. She glossed it over. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of Rick. He won’t answer his cell.”

“Maybe he’s asleep. He needs it. We all do.” Pearson audibly sighed. “Let me know tomorrow anything you dig up, will you? I’ve a meeting with McConnell first thing in the morning.”

“I will.”

“Good night, then. Get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but I feel like an eighty-year-old man.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Neil Hathaway said he checked Jane out as his last customer right after the power went out.”

“And?”

“I can see why we didn’t find a receipt in her purse. That old-fashioned cash register doesn’t operate on electricity and they use an adding machine next to it instead to print the receipts. It’s very possible he waited on her, just like he said. But I’d like to know why we didn’t find the groceries in her car.”

His response was emotionless. “Me too. When you figure it out, let me know.”

The laugh she gave was hollow and she disconnected.

Tried Rick again.

Nothing.

*   *   *

The knock on
his door roused him from a semidoze. The television was still on, but very low, and Bryce glanced at the illuminated numbers on the clock radio next to the bed. It was after eleven o’clock, Alan had left hours ago to drive back to Milwaukee, and Bryce really couldn’t think of anyone else who might come calling at his generic motel room this time of night. He was naked, so he jerked on his twice-worn jeans and went to the door but didn’t open it. “Yes?”

“Deputy Jones.”

Bryce raked his hand through his hair and contemplated not opening the door. He was sick of the police. “Isn’t it a little late? Besides, I won’t talk to anyone without my lawyer present.”

“I’ve got a warrant for your arrest.”

Not the best news this late at night—or at any other time. It was strange, but having his worst fear realized was calming. “I need to get dressed.”

“Grantham, you need to open this door immediately or we’ll knock it down.”

The only thing worse than being arrested was having an entire motel full of people witness the degrading event. Knocking the door down involved a lot of noise. At least he was wearing pants. He flipped the latch on the door and opened it.

The first blow was to the face and took him off guard. Bryce staggered backward into the room and swore, throwing up his arms, stumbling sideways enough that he tripped over the cord of the tall lamp by the table and went down in a graceless sprawl. His head thudded against the wall. Jones was on him right away, throwing another punch, this one low, and if Bryce hadn’t managed to twist, it would have hit him solidly in the gut. The other man’s arm came down across his throat, and his weight pinned him to the cheap carpet.

“Where is she?” Deputy Jones’ breath hissed out, his face just inches away. “Tell me, you fucker, where is she?”

Had Bryce wanted to say something, it would have been impossible. He managed an incoherent gurgle. Two hundred–plus pounds of angry deputy had put a lot of force into that punch and he was little dazed, not to mention oxygen deprived, at the moment.

“Rick, are you crazy?” The female voice registered dimly, familiar but with a hysterical edge to it. “What the hell are you doing here? You’ve lost it. God, please, get off him before I arrest you for assault.”

Yeah, Rick, please get the fuck off me
. Black dots danced on the periphery of Bryce’s vision.

A thick forearm pressed harder against Bryce’s Adam’s apple. Jones said harshly, “Fine. Arrest me.”

“We’ve got something new. I swear to you, it’s a solid lead. I came here to ask Bryce about it.”

To his relief the pressure eased. The buzzing growing in his ears decreased. Jones struggled to his feet, breathing heavily. As Bryce managed to focus again, he saw the deputy wipe his eyes, his face wet. He was dressed in street clothes: jeans, a turtleneck sweater under a windbreaker. “Goddamn it, Ellie, you’d better not be lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Ellie stood there in her long dark wool coat just inside the door. She looked tired, but her eyes were alive. “I swear I’m not.”

“Tell me.” As if he hadn’t just assaulted someone, Jones wandered over to the bed and sat down like a collapsing balloon.

Bryce fingered his jaw and sat up, the taste of blood metallic in his mouth. He was going to have one hell of a bruise but didn’t think anything was broken and at least he hadn’t lost a tooth. Cautiously he got to his feet but it was as if Jones didn’t see him anymore.

Ellie shut the door and shot Bryce a quick glance. “You okay?”

“I’ll live,” he said grimly, leaning back against the wall, his face already throbbing. “If I ever stop seeing stars. Mind explaining to me what’s going on here?”

“He’s not himself.” Her voice was strained.

“Well then my official position is I liked the old him better before, and I didn’t like
that
persona all that much.” He wiped his mouth and saw a smear of blood on his palm.

Jones sat strangely silent, as if he was numb, his gaze fastened on Ellie. His hands hung limply between his knees. He looked shell-shocked, or maybe intoxicated, and certainly his behavior didn’t indicate rational thought. It also seemed to Bryce they’d arrived independently, and that was damned confusing.

“I need to ask you a few questions.” She brushed past Bryce, close enough he caught the scent of her shampoo, clean and floral. The dark coat went on the floor, and Ellie sat on the edge of the chair by the laminated desk, clasping her hands in her lap. She wore faded jeans and a light green sweater, and her hair fell into its usual shining curtain to her shoulders. She looked incredible, except for the charcoal shadows under her eyes. “I’ve been thinking.”

“No offense, but that isn’t one of my favorite phrases from a woman,” he said sardonically. “The voice of experience tells me that declaration isn’t often followed by good news.”

“This one might be.” Her voice was quiet, closed. And her gaze
examined
him. “How often do you go into Hathaway’s general store?”

Whatever he expected, that question wasn’t it.

“I don’t know. Why?”

The smile that curved her mouth was faint. “Haven’t you learned by now, we ask the questions? Just answer it, Bryce. It’s not ten miles from your cabin. Surely you go in there.”

The use of his first name was the first glimmer of hope he’d had in a hellish day.

“Occasionally. I was in there the other day.” He really couldn’t see the harm in telling the truth, but he was starting to get wary when it came to the police. His lawyer’s advice was sound for a reason. Still, this was
Ellie
. “They carry a decent grocery selection and you can buy minnows and other bait. My parents have shopped there for years. Decades, I guess.”

“Have you ever worn your leather jacket in there?”

Where the hell is this going?

Bryce was bare chested and the room was a little cold, and he crossed his arms. It was late, he was more than tired, and Jones not a small guy and knew how to throw an effective punch. His jaw hurt like hell.

“In the summer obviously not … but since I’ve been up here for this charming visit, I don’t know. Maybe…” After a second, he said slowly, “Actually, yes. I remember changing into my windbreaker in the car before I went fishing. I stopped in Hathaway’s to get my license.”

“Were you there the day of the storm?”

He stared, wondering what the hell she was getting at. “On the day of the storm I closed up the cabin and came out to find I had a flat tire. Maybe you remember my phone call?”

“I remember. Are you saying you weren’t in Hathaway’s that day at all?”

“Ellie,” he said in exasperation. “I was with
you,
remember? Besides, there was a giant tree—still is—across the lane.”

“I remember.” The line of her mouth was vulnerable for a moment but then her lips firmed. “But not until midafternoon. And if the tree was brought down by the ice, that could have happened not long before you called me.”

“Jane shops there.” Jones sounded like a mechanical toy, wound up but not quite human, his voice jerking like links missing in a mechanism. “At Hathaway’s. She shops there pretty often when we need just one or two things.” He stopped and added almost inaudibly, “Like milk.”

“No, I wasn’t in Hathaway’s that day and who the hell is Jane?” Bryce said stiffly, not following the conversation and not liking the implied accusation. But a logical voice in his mind pointed out, Ellie looked focused, just not on him.

Not on him. It hurt a little considering they’d spent a night he’d never forget together.

“We have an eyewitness that described you pretty convincingly as the only other person in the store at the same time as Jane Cummins, our latest missing woman.” Ellie spoke softly.

That brought his uninvited guest back to life. Rick Jones’s head came up and he stared at Bryce with bloodshot eyes, his hands clenching into fists.

“But, hold it,” Ellie went on in an inexorable voice. “I
am
starting to wonder about this witness. Pearson knows him. He’s apparently an outdoorsman, been in trouble, but as of now we don’t know what kind, and I think he lied to us. I’ve been trying to figure out why.”

“Lied how?” Jones asked. The area around his nostrils was pinched and white and his breathing was heavy.

“He said the man in the store was wearing a leather jacket. Made quite a point of it. Tall, dark-haired, good-looking, wearing an expensive impractical coat in really bad weather.”

“And you thought of me. I’m flattered,” Bryce said sarcastically.

“Shut up, Grantham.” Deputy Jones didn’t move, sitting like a lump of clay on the side of the bed. “Who’s the witness?”

“Neil Hathaway. He works at his father’s store.”

“Don’t know him. What’ve we got?”

“I’m calling Minnesota tomorrow. Pearson heard from his father that Neil had a run-in there. I didn’t get the impression he served time or anything, but maybe there’s an arrest record.” She added with slow emphasis, “He knows this area, Rick. He grew up here and he’s a hunter. DNR has picked him up a couple of times for out-of-season violations.”

“And at least one of the victims disappeared when running out for something at the store,” Jones said slowly.

They’d both forgotten him. Bryce had that impression, their faces intent, eyes locked on each other.

“We’ve both thought all along he’s local. Dammit, he fits.”

“What about Keith Walters?” Jones had the unfocused eyes of an addict, or maybe someone who needed a couple of centuries of sleep. “We can’t forget him. He left two bodies in a bloody mess in a fishing shack the day Jane disappeared, and one them was his brother.”

“He didn’t hide them.” Ellie shook her head. “No finesse. A dirtbag, but not
our
dirtbag. You don’t think so either, Rick.”

“No,” he agreed heavily, “I don’t. Son of a bitch.”

Then, to Bryce’s consternation, the deputy started to cry.

Chapter 27

He couldn’t sleep. It happened often enough … the midnight wakefulness, the cold sweats, the itch. If it didn’t happen one night, it didn’t matter because he knew sooner or later, it would come back.

The. itch. It was strong now, and the anticipation had him strung like a taut wire, but he wanted to bide his time. It was always over too fast.

Not that he minded danger, but he liked it clean, he liked it slick and remote, and he liked most of all making the kill.

He had to make sure they didn’t take it away from him.

Exceptional circumstances required a change in plans.

There was no way he could keep this one. It was time to let her go.