Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (31 page)

Not one bit as bad as running into the wrong person who might, who had …

Oh shit
.

He wanted to cry. No, he wanted to weep. Put his head down and sob, because he knew … he knew, she couldn’t be missing for this long without calling him. Her purse and cell phone had been in the car, and there was blood.

As a police officer, he was worried. As a man, he was … terrified.

He’d been relieved of duty and sent home. Not that Pearson was wrong, because quite frankly, Rick knew his mind had started to come to a grinding stop the minute he’d heard about her stranded car.

It was useless, superfluous, but now he wondered why he hadn’t ever asked Jane to marry him. Scared, he’d guess. His first marriage had ended up such a disaster. He ignored the chill eddy as the furnace kicked on, the first blast of air never all that warm.

What he needed was to be reflective about this, to be analytical and calm, to view all the evidence with dispassionate dissection.

What he wanted was something else altogether.

Putting his fist into someone’s face was one of the most tempting options, satisfying a primal urge, if nothing else. Blood, broken teeth … they all held a particular primitive appeal that wouldn’t help Jane.

Because he had the awful singular preknowledge that sometimes happened when investigating a crime that told him unequivocally that though the crime might someday be solved, as desperately as the loved ones of the victim might want to think it was not the ugly, unacceptable truth, justice might be the only benefit of the investigation.

His cell phone migrated across the table as it vibrated. He eyed it with disinterest. It wasn’t Jane’s ring but he recognized it. Finally he flipped it open with weary resignation. “Jones.”

“Rick.” It wasn’t as possible to sound as tired as he felt, but Ellie came close. “You holding up?”

“No.” The truth might be unwelcome, but he was beyond the point to conjure up any kind of a lie, much less a good one.

“She left the hospital around one. After the snow, but before the ice. Were you out of milk?”

How the fuck would he know? Jane drank it, but he didn’t. “I’m … I’m not sure.”

Gently, Ellie urged, “Go look, okay?”

That meant hauling himself from his chair and three steps across the room. The energy required was too damned much.

“It won’t do you any good to just sit there,” she said in a very soft tone. “Look in the refrigerator. If there is no milk, the answer is yes.”

“Why is it important?” He couldn’t process like he should—he knew it. Shock, most probably, but oddly enough, it left him numb enough the panic was gone. It worked. He didn’t want to think about it, about her, about the quiet house and her bathrobe hanging on the hook of the bathroom door …

“It might be important, it might not, Rick. Look, will you?”

“Where the hell is Grantham?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Just tell me if you think Jane might have stopped off somewhere to buy some groceries.”

Swearing, he got up and padded, half naked and barefoot, to the refrigerator. They were out of eggs and milk, he saw, standing there, shivering. “Yes.”

“Thanks.” A pause. “I’ll be by in a few hours. Give you an update. Get some sleep, will you?”

He just hung up. Maybe someday he could care about food, or sleep, or even being moderately polite, but for right now, he just … didn’t.

Didn’t care about anything.

It was the weirdest feeling.

*   *   *

The room smelled
faintly sterile, like disinfectant and something unidentifiable that should be bottled and labeled “Motel” but then again, no one would want to buy it.

The questioning hadn’t really been the bad part, Bryce thought, lying on the bed and staring at the television, the picture just a blur of color. Long and tiring, yes, but he’d answered the interrogation, stuck by his story, and then they had let him go.

So to speak. He’d ended up at one of the local motels because there was still that huge tree down across the lane to the cabin, and as far as he knew, the Land Rover still had a flat tire. Just because the local sheriff’s department didn’t have enough to hold him meant very little in the middle of the night when it was impossible to rent a car. One of the deputies had obligingly driven him to the motel at his request, where he’d lain sleepless for most of the night—
that
was beginning to become an unwanted habit. The couple of hours of drifting in and out of consciousness left him lethargic and disoriented.

The cell phone lay on the mattress next to him. He was tempted to call Ellie … God,
more
than tempted, but wasn’t sure what to say. There was someone else missing, he’d figured that out easily enough from the questions they’d asked him, and he was probably the last person on earth she’d give the details to.

Mozart’s Night Music belted out suddenly, making him jump. Bryce flipped the phone open and debated whether or not to answer the call.

What did Suzanne want anyway?

He blew out a breath. Did he need this now? But she never did anything without a reason, and he sure didn’t have anything else to do, so why not answer it?

“Hello.”

“Hi, honey.”

Honey? He hadn’t been honey for about two years, one year of which he had still been married to her. “What do you want, Suzanne?”

“It’s all over the news.”

“I know. Alan called me.”

“He told me you’d retained him. Are you really in trouble or is what we’re seeing journalistic sensationalism?”

He sighed and rubbed a jaw liberally graced with stubble. What the hell was he watching? A cartoon mouse and cat bounced across the screen. He was tempted to turn the volume up rather than talk to his ex-wife. “I don’t think I’m so much a suspect as just an unwilling participant, but you’d have to ask the police if you want to know what they’re thinking. They sure aren’t telling me.”

Her voice was dry. “I’m not your counsel. I doubt they’d tell me either.”

“Then what exactly is the point of this conversation? Your last foray into wifely concern was slapping me with a restraining order.” He adjusted his position on the bed, restive, wishing he hadn’t answered, wishing he didn’t react to the sound of her voice. Once, he’d loved her, but that was dead, gone, blown to dust, but there were enough memories left he really didn’t need this. Not
now
.

“Did you really find four bodies?”

Four?

“No,” he was able to say honestly, wondering where the fourth one had come from. One body, one incomplete set of bones, a shoe, and the earrings. It was bad enough. “That’s an exaggeration.”

“What’s true and what isn’t?”

“What are you, a reporter?”

That got her. He knew it would. “Don’t be an ass,” Suzanne said heatedly. “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“You didn’t worry about me when we were married, why start now?” He gently pushed the end button.

The ceiling looked exactly as it had a few minutes before. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared at it.

What he really wanted was to talk to Ellie.

Chapter 25

He went about his business, because he always did. Unobtrusive and smiling.

But he thought about her. The entire time.

He’d tied her hands. And then her feet. He didn’t want to necessarily, but there were no chances that could be taken and he was methodical by nature. He’d explained, but she hadn’t listened … none of them did. She had struggled and didn’t seem to understand it was … over.

The hunt was complete and she belonged to him.

*   *   *

The grocery turned
up nothing except two overworked clerks, wet floors as the tracked in snow started to melt, and one freezer that had disobediently not come back on with the power. The manager was harried and covered in melted ice cream and had given them permission to question anyone they wanted.

Ellie had refrained from pointing out they would have done that regardless. No one remembered Jane coming in that day.

Two convenience gas stations were about as helpful, but the local store in Carney was a little more productive.

“Bad storm.” Russell Hathaway, gray-haired and efficient, moved behind the counter, nodding at a passing customer. “Hello, Bobby.”

“Hey, Russell.” The man wandered down an aisle. The place smelled like an old-fashioned store; aged wood with a hint of freezer burn.

Ellie produced the picture of Jane she’d rummaged around for and found in Rick’s house. He’d been no use whatsoever, just sank into a chair and held his head in his hands.

Her worst fear
 …

Jane had wanted a gun. He’d told her no, just get some pepper spray.

And the sight of his gray face had made Ellie wince inwardly because she’d never interviewed a victim’s family that didn’t ask that question.
What could I have done differently to prevent this?

She pushed the photo across the counter. “Was this woman by chance here day before yesterday when the bad weather came in?”

Hathaway peered at the photograph, put on the glasses hanging around his neck by a chain, and looked at it again. “I’ve seen her.”

“Day before yesterday?”

He shook his head. “No, but I can tell you she shops here now and then. Neil ran the store that day. We closed early. Good thing, since the power went out. Besides, we ran out of the staples everyone rushes out to buy.”

“Can we talk to Neil?” McConnell asked, bland in his suit, which was decidedly out of place.

“He’s at the back.”

“Thanks.” Ellie followed the nod of the older man’s head and walked down an aisle lined with boxes of cereal on one side and assorted cans of juice, coffee, and teas. Neil proved to be young, bulky, and energetic, at the moment reloading the deli case with bratwurst and hamburger. He wore a navy blue shirt, an apron, and faded blue jeans, his fair hair cut short, and his eyes were a light ice blue that contrasted with his bronzed skin.

“Neil?”

“Yeah?” He straightened with a good-natured smile.

“I’m Detective MacIntosh and this is Lieutenant McConnell. Can we talk to you for a moment?”

The smile vanished. “Sure,” he said uneasily, which was a pretty typical reaction. When she held out the picture, he stripped off a latex glove and took it, frowning. She said, “Was she in here day before yesterday?”

“Day before yesterday?” he repeated.

Ellie nodded. “Right before the storm closed everything down.”

The young man looked up, his broad face creasing in dismay. “Is she the one missing?”

“We have reason to believe she might have stopped here. Did she?” Ellie asked, deliberately not answering though she knew the rumors about another disappearance had spread all over the place, like lit gasoline on a dry pile of brush.

He licked his lips, and his hand trembled just a fraction as he handed back the picture. “Yeah. I remember pretty well. She was the last customer. The power had just gone out. I was getting ready to lock up. We have generators though, for the meat freezers, and I had to get that going. She came rushing in. Wanted a few things.”

This is probably the last person to see Jane before she disappeared
.

Well, second to last. A chilling realization. The murderer would be the last one …

“She alone?” McConnell had taken a pad out and was jotting down notes.

“Yes.” Neil dragged his hand across his face. “No … I don’t know. There was a man in here too. He followed her in, but didn’t buy anything. I didn’t see him leave. I checked her out and was going to lock up because I didn’t want to get trapped here either by the ice, and I looked around for him, but he’d obviously left. They might have been together, but I don’t think so. They spoke, but I didn’t hear it. It might have just been a hello or something.”

At last, not just a lead, but maybe a
sighting
of the killer. Ellie said tersely, “Can you describe him?”

Neil leaned on the meat case, his eyes wide. “Is it important? Christ, do you think—”

“What did he look like, sir?” McConnell interrupted, polite but firm.

“I … I don’t know,” the young man stammered.

“Do your best,” Ellie urged, a flare of excitement igniting in the pit of her stomach.
An eyewitness … if they had an eyewitness

“Just relax, think back. Was he wearing a cap? What color was his coat? Could you determine his race?”

“Let me think.” His face creased in concentration. “Definitely Caucasian. No hat. I remember I thought that was crazy because it was sleeting pretty good by then. Dark hair, tall, dressed nice … expensive leather jacket, which was also crazy in that weather. I don’t mean this to sound queer or anything, but he was a good-looking guy, you know?”

The excitement turned into a stab of nausea as Ellie’s stomach seemed to flip upside down and muscles turned to knots. A clammy flush prickled across her skin.

No, God, no
. She’d trusted her instincts. All good cops did.

This time, had she been wrong? And not just a little wrong, when she thought about the other night. Was it possible she’d
slept
with a murderer? Her hands were shaking and she shoved them deep into her pockets.

McConnell, who hadn’t met Bryce, just noted the description. “Anything else we could use to ID the man who was in here but disappeared? A distinguishing mark? Color of his eyes?”

“Hey, I didn’t look that close.” Neil rattled the tray cart of bratwurst toward the case. “I was anxious to get out of here. When I left it was just a few minutes later and the parking lot was empty.”

“Thanks for your help,” Ellie managed to say and she woodenly followed McConnell out to the car, but her knees felt weak.

He didn’t notice until they slid into their seats, then his eyes narrowed. “You okay? You’ve gone dead pale.”

Deep breath. Steady
. Whatever happened next, she needed to do her job. “I think we may have him, Eric. He wasn’t wearing a leather jacket when I picked him up, but I know he has one.”