Charred (5 page)

It took him a minute to respond, which didn’t surprise her, so at least she knew him well enough to discern he’d weigh his response. Then he said quietly, “Ellie, you don’t
want
me to tell you I’m in love with you.”

On that score she found he was absolutely right.

Chapter 4

There was no question I’d slipped once. Not a hard fall, jarring, knocking the breath from my lungs, but I’d stumbled and hit the ground in a figurative sense. A tumble from grace; a mistake even …

But they hadn’t caught me. It might have been better if they had.

I was in high school. If you want to call it a school … a cut-rate community institution with painted brick walls and linoleum floors, the echoing halls filled with the sound of slamming lockers, the bell herding us like obedient sheep to our respective classrooms where bored, uninspired teachers offered whatever knowledge they possessed on subjects society had decided we needed to function in a productive way.

I wasn’t expecting it, but no one ever does, do they?

But I hated for the first time.

The bitch had drawn my attention when she had laughed. At me. Her mistake. My mission crystalized then into a solid carbon mass of intent, of cause and effect.

Really, none of it was my fault
.

As far as I know, they have never found her
.

JULY 4

The place smelled
like shit. Not literally, but to him,
shit.
Like obscure antiseptics and formaldehyde and other bizarre preservatives to stop human decomposition.

Really, the morgue was not his favorite.

Jason let the door shut behind him, blew out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and put his hands in his back pockets to show he was comfortable, which he wasn’t really. Ironic, for dead bodies were crucial to his chosen profession. The difference was while he was extremely interested in finding out how they died and who was responsible, he had no desire to cut them up and peer at their internal organs. Luckily for him, someone did, and he hoped the autopsy would produce some sort of clue.

“Detective Santiago.”

He turned. Dr. Reubens smiled at him, wiping his hands and lifting his brows. He was young, if midthirties was still young and because that was
his
age, he thought so; forty seemed younger all the time. The medical examiner had a compelling smile and deep-set blue eyes. Light brown hair, thick and curling, and a small dimple in his left cheek gave him the appearance of an insurance agent or a high school athletic coach, something much more wholesome than his vocation. His scrubs had some suspicious stains on the front, and though Jason never had thought of himself as squeamish, he’d just as soon not know what they were from. “I’m here for the autopsy report.”

“Nice outfit.”

He glanced down at his shorts and flip-flops. “I’m off-duty and I’m supposed to go to some sort of cookout later. Hey, it’s the Fourth.”

Though, if he were honest about it, charred meat was not at the top of his list of desired foods right now, so the cookout didn’t sound all that appealing. He hadn’t been looking forward to the party all that much in the first place, as it was being given by someone he didn’t even know, but Kate had accepted for both of them.

Kate. She’d been pissed at him for coming home so late last night and he could have earned a few points if he’d explained why, but he hadn’t. He wasn’t even sure
why
he hadn’t explained.

Maybe so she would stay pissed? He might have to think that over later.

“Let’s go through it.” The medical examiner walked to a stainless steel table where several clipboards sat in neat rows, and picked one up. “The burn victim from yesterday. Interesting, I must say.”

“Like interesting, how?” Jason glanced around the white, cold walls and then narrowed his gaze back on the other man. Really, this place gave him the creeps. “What did you find?”

Reubens shook his head. “Not much. I can tell you the victim is female, give an approximate age—it’s in my notations—but I really have no idea how she died. There is no obvious trauma. If I had to speculate, she was decomposing before she was set on fire. There are traces of some sort of substance on what skin is left, but I assume the fire department will determine the accelerant and that is probably what it is. She must have been thoroughly dosed with it from the consistent nature of the burns. In short she went up in flames and very quickly. I know for certain she was dead before the fire started, or at least not breathing. No smoke damage to her lungs.”

“No manner of death?”

Reubens cocked his head to the side. “No one ends up on a coffee table in front of a fireplace without some pretty iffy individuals being involved. I’ll put suspicious circumstances in the opinion when I have it written up.”

“Iffy? That’s a scientific term, right?”

The doctor laughed and rubbed his jaw. “What do you prefer? Unsavory? Makes me sound like my grandmother.”

Jason tried again. “No blunt-force trauma or…”

“Sorry to disappoint. Like I said, I can’t tell you how she died, just that beyond a shadow of a doubt, she’s dead.”

Fuck
.

“You aren’t disappointing me.” Jason wasn’t an asshole, or didn’t think he was—MacIntosh might disagree—he just needed a lead. “I don’t want people out there killing other people any more than you do, but I was sort of hoping you were going to give me
something
. Anything helpful?”

“I do my best, but this one wasn’t easy. My job is to give you information.” Reubens dropped the clipboard onto the table with an audible clatter. “Given the circumstances I could guess at manner of death, but we don’t do that here, or at least
I
don’t. So, cause of death unknown, but it wasn’t the fire, and manner of death can be labeled suspicious, but I am not comfortable saying it was homicide with any degree of certainty. There’s no evidence to prove it.”

Son of a bitch
. He’d been hoping they’d get something definitive from the autopsy.

“The body was posed.” Jason would just as soon not argue the point, write up the report, and be on his way, but that image unfortunately stuck in his head. “You say the victim was already dead … how in the fuck—er, sorry, but how
can’t
it be murder?”

“It could be.” Dr. Reubens slightly spread his hands. “I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m saying when this person”—he pointed to a drawer in the wall—“was set on fire she was already not breathing and I can’t tell if she died of natural causes or someone, for instance, stuck a pillow over her face, a method that, by the way, leaves hardly any trace, especially if you incinerate the remains.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, just in case I want to get rid of someone. Okay, well, approximate age?”

“Past puberty. Height and my guess at her weight are right here.” He handed over a single sheet of paper. “When you have an idea who she is, dental records will have to be utilized. No one could possibly recognize her. Toxicology might help, but those results will take a few days.”

That was the ugly truth. He’d have nightmares about that blackened corpse and that macabre, grinning faceless skull. He’d seen gunshot victims, stabbings, even a couple of hangings, which were no picnic, but this one was horrific. If he were at all interested in making a horror film, he would definitely include that scene where he walked into the dripping room and saw that particular corpse. Death wasn’t ever pretty, but this one had been really bad. The intertwined clawlike fingers missing every bit of flesh would simply not leave his conscious thoughts.

Let it go
.

“Thanks,” he said, and left the morgue, happy enough to get the hell out of there. He checked out with the secretary, scribbling his name on the log, and then went outside to find that the temperature had escalated about five more degrees, the wall of heat like a battering ram.

“Holy crap.” He sucked in a breath, plucked at his lightweight T-shirt, and then made his way across the parking lot to where he’d left his car. The asphalt reflected heat like a stovetop burner and he thought idly as he took out his keys to unlock the Mustang that this sort of temperature was fine if there was a beach nearby, a cold beer in your hand, and bikini-clad women everywhere.

But for Milwaukee in the middle of July? It really sucked. It got hot enough here … it was the Midwest after all. Ice cold in the winter, hot in the summer, but not
this
damn hot. The unusual weather had everyone on edge.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out before sliding into the car, which was like a preheated oven. MacIntosh, he saw as he glanced at the display. He pushed a button. “Yeah?”

Not a charming greeting, but hey, that wasn’t part of his job requirement. He’d just left the morgue. He didn’t feel all that charming at the moment. Maybe he wasn’t ever charming.

“What did Reubens have to say?”

“Nothing worthwhile to us, except it looks like she died somewhere else. He thinks maybe the body was already decomposing.”

“That’s strange. So he carried her inside?”

“I thought so too. Ballsy, isn’t it?”

“I like that though, it gives us something.”

A pause. Awkward. Why the hell couldn’t the chief have given him Simmons as a partner? They played basketball together. Simmons he could handle. Goddamn it. He asked, because he couldn’t think of a single other thing to say, “Where are you?”

“West Allis right now, following the slimmest lead on earth, but it is better than nothing.”

Even though they didn’t jibe, he had to grudgingly admit that she seemed to be a smart cop. Not big-city street smart particularly—he doubted if the woods of northern Wisconsin groomed you that way, but intellectually savvy. “Mind telling me just what kind of lead?”

We are supposed to be working on this together
.

He didn’t say it out loud. She had, so he refused to repeat it.

“Matthew Tobias has a sister who lives here and I thought it was worth a shot to talk to her. Remember the neighbor who mentioned she stayed with them for a couple of months not all that long ago? When I started thinking about that, I wondered if she might know something. I have no idea what that could be, but I did manage to get her number, and she’s actually at home today.”

He started his car and said over the growl of the engine. “Give me the address. I’ll meet you there.”

*   *   *

“Matthew called me.”
The woman set down a glass of iced tea, and put two fingers to her forehead. “It’s unbelievable. He and Michelle stayed with her parents last night. They are devastated. I don’t know how else to put it.”

The efficiency apartment was spare, with a few scattered chairs and a battered coffee table, the rug patterned in bold geometrics and the only new item. Since Matthew Tobias’ sister was a student and self-professed slob, it was fairly cluttered.

“I would be too.” Ellie picked up the glass and condensation dripped on her leg. She wore a skirt today instead of slacks—it was just too damn hot for the latter, and she rubbed the moisture away with her palm. “That’s exactly why we are here. Your brother and his wife were really in shock yesterday and found it hard to answer questions. We were wondering if you could remember anything that might link the fire to the body.”

“Me?” Pretty, but as colorless as her brother, she looked perplexed. “Why would I know anything?”

“You stayed with them for several months. That means you know the house, the neighborhood, at least a little, and of course, you know them.”

Santiago leaned forward, which really caught the young woman’s attention. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. This afternoon he wore a thin T-shirt with a rock band insignia of some kind on the front, loose shorts that would be more at home at a fraternity party, and flip-flops. In his defense they were both supposed to be off-duty, but he looked like a surfer, not a cop. He had nice biceps, which meant he probably worked out, and his eyes were that almost startling shade of blue.

Fine with her if their interview went better because he came across as a macho cop, and on short acquaintance, he was good-looking and a little funny.

In Ellie’s experience that wore off pretty fast.

“Anything can be helpful. You’d be surprised.” He smiled, very friendly—and falsely so—his gaze as razor sharp as ever. He didn’t mean that smile. Ellie had seen it before; case in point, the day she’d met him when they were assigned together. He’d acted as if he was just fine with it, and she now knew he wasn’t. The dilemma was whether or not to take it personally. Was it that she was a woman, or was it
her
? Actually, she thought it was more complicated than either of those things.

Santiago asked, “When did you last visit your brother?”

“I … I don’t know. How is that important?”

“It probably isn’t,” Ellie interjected. “But we are trying to make a connection between who the victim could be and your brother’s house. You have to admit it is an interesting situation.”

“Oh.” Her weak chin was more pronounced when her mouth fell open slightly. “Yes, it is. I guess I wish I knew something. I wasn’t there much, to be honest. The lease was up on my place and I was still taking classes, so I just slept there really. Spent most of my time at the library. The neighborhood is pretty quiet. Lots of older people. They would have preferred a house in the suburbs or something—you know, something newer, but they couldn’t afford that. Matt has switched jobs a couple of times.”

That was interesting. “Why?”

“A few years ago he got hurt on the job. His back. He was on disability for a while but it ran out. When it flares up he misses work. He can’t help it.”

She’d never thought this would lead to anything anyway, so Ellie rose and handed Matthew’s sister a card. “Thanks. We are just checking out any possibilities. It never hurts to ask. If you think of anything, please call me.”