Fractured (22 page)

Jason put his hand up and rubbed his forehead. A part of him didn't believe it. But a part of him did. “Holy shit, what if we
are
looking for a woman?”

 

Chapter 21

“Lea never talks about her mother.”

Georgia considered her patient across the polished surface of her desk. Another conversation with Grant had her convinced that a switch in how she handled Rachel's therapy might be beneficial. “And why do you worry about that? All of us avoid topics that make us uncomfortable. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a good relationship with their parents.”

“I care about her and her problems,” Rachel said defensively. This morning she was back to a plain mousy gray sweater and a straight black skirt and the worn flats. “We're friends.”

“Yet you've talked about trying to get her to move out.”

There were times when Rachel seemed unfocused, but she sent Georgia an almost combative look. “I realize we have a dysfunctional relationship and you've been trying to figure out how to say it diplomatically, Dr. Lukens. I'm here talking to you because I already know that. I just want some advice on how to handle it.”

That was very assertive for Rachel, so maybe Grant's angle was effective. “You've told me that you are a little afraid of her, that you think she won't consider your wishes, that she borrows things without asking, and yet you prefer her to be there so you don't have to be alone. I think you should weigh the benefits of having a friend that doesn't take you into consideration very much, and am curious about what problems have you so concerned.”

Rachel smoothed back her hair. “She sometimes follows men.”

“Follows them?” Georgia had to admit that was a startling revelation. “Follows them in what way?”

“If she's interested in them she follows them around for a while. So she already knows where they work, where they live, that sort of thing. It's weird, isn't it?”

“It is certainly unusual, yes.” That kind of behavior definitely gave Georgia pause. “Tell me something, have you ever asked her why she would bother to do that? Obviously the two of you have talked about it.”

Rachel visibly shivered. “No, we haven't. Not really. I just know she does it. I think I'm a little afraid of the answer if I ask directly.”

“I get that, but you brought it up, so it is bothering you. Is there any reason for you to be afraid of Lea?”

“No, but maybe the men she chooses should be afraid. I think they remind her of someone.” Then she added in a very emotionless voice, “She has a gun. I've seen it. But now it's gone.”

*   *   *

The house was
pretty cold and empty as usual. Ellie dropped her keys on the hall table, and then went into the kitchen. Maybe it had been a mistake to move in with Bryce and maybe it had been a life lesson. Certain people were not cut out to share their life. What if she was one of them?

She went to the refrigerator and took out some sliced cheese she'd bought earlier in the week, ate it standing there, and then shut the door. That really was not dinner, but she wasn't in the mood to cook.

So she changed, took out her cell phone, and called her sister. Jody answered pretty quickly, which either meant she was stirring something delicious on the stove, or just got done reading someone a bedtime story. Jody was pregnant again, this time with a boy. Ellie did ask, “Good time or bad time to talk?”

“I'm not throwing up, so hey, take advantage of the window. If I start to gurgle and drop the phone, you are just going to have to forgive me. They call it morning sickness, right? Why do I have it constantly?”

Ellie laughed softly. “You don't really do a lot to glamorize pregnancy.”

“Let's see. My butt is probably bigger than it has ever been, I have to eat two ounces of food at a time or there will be trouble if you are between me and the closest bathroom, and I'm pretty damn tired before the baby is even kicking me in the ribs. Let's not mention how I can't color my hair so I have roots that make me look like a reverse skunk. If you need more glamour than that, you are just plain greedy. What's up?”

The beauty of Jody was her ability to make everything funny. “Not much compared to you. Just the average murder stuff.”

“I contemplate murder each day. But then they pick up their toys and I allow them to live.”

“You adore your children.”

“I do. Hence their continued existence, and you haven't answered my question.”

Ellie was sitting on the couch in the living room in flannel pajama bottoms, wool socks, and a long-sleeved T-shirt, sipping a glass of Merlot. “I talked to Mom earlier. She sounded pretty good, but I'm glad Aunt Clare is there with her.”

“I know. She told me they had a hysterical time picking out wigs. There's nothing wrong with her sense of humor and when those two are together I sometimes laugh until I cry. Talk about two squabbling older ladies who love each other dearly, but snipe at each other constantly. I suppose that's our future, sis. Only, can we move to Bermuda instead of Florida? I've always wanted to go there but somehow end up at Disney World instead. The kids think lying on a beach is boring. Whatever happened to sand buckets and cute shovels? I keep telling them that back in the olden days that was good enough for us, but they still prefer roller coasters and dancing mice with giant plastic heads.”

“Olden days? Hey, I take exception to that.” Ellie set down her glass. “Speaking of moving … I'm thinking about it, but not to Bermuda. I might start looking for another condo to lease until my house up north sells.”

“I wondered. On the one hand, it seems wrong to let that big fancy house sit empty, but on the other hand, I could see where you might feel awkward living in someone else's house when they aren't even there.”

That very accurate observation made Ellie feel better—and worse. Half-jokingly she said, “Jody, you were supposed to talk me out of it and tell me how Bryce and I are perfect for each other.”

“Honey, I like Bryce. A lot. He's the catch of the century in some ways, but what I see is the two of you amicably living your separate lives pretty much like you do now if you stay together, and if that is what you want, fine, it's your life.”

“But?”

“Did I say ‘but'?”

“Yes, you did. It was implied.” Ellie picked up her glass again and took a large mouthful.

“Sorry. How about, for once, I don't know what advice to give you. Forgive me. Want me to come down and look with you?”

Did she? No. Then she'd be tempted to spill out this new problem with Santiago and Jody would have an opinion and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it. “No, I need to talk to Bryce first. It's hardly fair to him if I have plans set in place to move before I even tell him I'm thinking it all over.”

“He went to New York without consulting you.”

“He had good reasons to go there. The book deal, research, meeting with his publisher and agent—”

“I'm not arguing that, I am just stating that you are the one who told me he didn't exactly advertise when he was going.”

True. She shut her eyes and leaned back. “I need to get through this case before I do anything.”

Her sister said somberly, “So I understand. They are really starting to talk about it on the news.”

“We're doing our best.”

“Of course. There's no doubt here.”

After they hung up Ellie contemplated watching a movie, but decided silence was better, just sitting there, half-reclined on the couch. Outside the windows it was dark and cold.

The killer
could
be using rufilin to disorient the victims for a specific reason. Was it less physical ability to carry out the intended crime?

Why would a man need to do that?

He probably wouldn't. Santiago was right, a knife was not usually a woman's weapon, but she was starting to think that a female was involved in the murders in some way.

*   *   *

The knock came
as he was putting his plate in the dishwasher—how long had it been since he'd run it? Probably three days, but Jason tended to cook with the least frequency possible. In the summer he almost exclusively used his outdoor grill, a stainless steel indulgence that had a side burner and was on his outside balcony. Tonight he'd baked a frozen chicken patty and ate it on bread with some ketchup. To his credit he'd been out of potato chips, so he'd eaten some canned green beans with it. Seemed almost healthy …

When he opened the door, the young woman on the other side smiled at him with uncertainty. “Hi.”

Lauren. He'd gotten the impression she might be interested but not that she'd just show up out of the blue. She didn't seem the type.

He said uncertainly, “Uh, hi. How in the hel … Um, how did you find me?”

Her expression was a little embarrassed and apologetic. “I have my ways. I feel kind of like a stalker, but I don't have your number. I wanted to know if you cared to go out for a drink or a cup of coffee.”

Jason was rarely at a loss for words, but had to admit he wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't very late, maybe nine o'clock, but as usual he'd already had a couple of beers.

It wasn't like he had big plans for the rest of the evening, and he was flattered, if a little off balance by her boldness. But then again, what could it hurt?

“Sure. There's a place a block away. Do you mind if we walk?” He took in her jeans tucked into boots and casual coat. Women worried about how they were dressed. “It's just a bar, but it's close.”

“Not at all. Sure, let's walk. It's cold, but not bad.”

“Come on in. Let me get my jacket.”

She followed him into the apartment and looked around. “This is nice.”

He laughed, but was still puzzled as he opened the small hall closet that held about three things: vacuum, windbreaker, winter coat. He took out the latter. “It's generic and geared toward families, but you know, it has a laundry hookup in the apartment and a lot of parking. That did it for me. I signed the lease the day after first seeing it. How did you get the address anyway?”

“I found you through my job, not my uncle. His staff is pretty security conscious.”

“Your job?” He truly was curious.

“I work at a hospital and you've been shot twice in the line of duty, remember? All those records at my fingertips.” She laughed lightly.

“Abuse of power. I like that.”

As they walked out the door, she glanced back at him. “Ever done it?”

“What?”

“Abuse of power?”

With a cheeky smile he responded, “Of course not. I'm sworn to uphold the law. I don't even jaywalk.” Actually he'd been reprimanded for strong-arming a punk who'd needed a reality check a year or two ago, but he didn't advertise it. That incident got MacIntosh stuck with him.

“Don't tell on me. That might get me fired.” She shot the words over her shoulder.

They walked down the hallway to the stairs, and she was right, when they stepped outside, the night was chill, but there wasn't any wind, and for once, it wasn't snowing.

“The governor's niece? I'm finding it doubtful you'd get fired.”

“You never know who might get up in arms over nepotism.”

She had a point; he'd just never been in that position. Well, not true, Metzger had cut him slack for being ex-military now and again. A former marine, the chief might have fired someone else for breaking some of the rules Jason considered to be suggestions, not carved in stone. “True. So, how long have you worked there?” he asked as they skirted the parking lot.

She pulled a pair of mittens from her pocket and slid them on. “The hospital? A few years now. I got a different job right out of college, but was still looking around. We started to talk about it the other night but got interrupted. Is being a detective your dream job?”

He walked beside her, hands in his pockets. Gloves, and more so mittens, were an impediment to drawing his weapon if necessary. “Yep. A detective with MPD is exactly what I want to do, especially homicide, but you've probably already figured that one out. I'm single, and don't have any other family obligations, so why not? The married detectives have a harder time balancing the job and their families.”

She slanted him a glance. “Single. I like that.”

Jason had to reflect ironically that since Kate moved out his love life had been pretty much like a flatline on a heart monitor, but suddenly he seemed to have a measure of popularity—with everyone but Ellie. It figured.

“You saw my apartment. Did you doubt it?”

“True. No artificial flowers in painted vases anywhere.”

“They get dusty,” he said, but appreciated her sense of humor. “I can scrub a toilet, but I hate dusting.”

“I knew we had something in common.”

“Item number one.” He saw the lights of the bar down the street. With a giant jug tilted sideways on the neon sign, it really wasn't exactly a classy place, but it had good food and served cold beer and some decent wines.

Lauren gave him an amused look as he opened the door and held it. “What a good start.”

It wasn't the start of anything—he really didn't think he could do that now, but it was a nice diversion.

He wasn't thinking about the case and he wasn't thinking about Ellie at the moment. Win-win.

The bartender knew him. “Hiya, Detective. You two sitting at the bar or in a booth?”

Normally Jason just chose a stool, but a booth certainly offered a little more privacy. “The booth in the corner?”

“Help yourself. You want your usual? What about the lady?”

She ordered a glass of Chablis and slid into the booth, smiling. “Obviously you're a regular.”

“I admit to not having much of a social life.”