Fractured (17 page)

“It is a very different crime.” Ellie stepped aside for two men with a body bag and a stretcher. “It's somewhat interesting he called you and then was killed, but only
somewhat
since I'm guessing he was just another guppy in the food chain and a bigger fish gobbled him up. Happens every single day. The call and the murder are probably unrelated.”

“Quite the coincidence though. What if our boy here decided to shake down one of his customers, letting him know the police were sniffing around about rufilin? Gurst was not a genius. He might be stupid enough to see if he could extort money from the wrong person.” Santiago's blue eyes were unfocused in a way Ellie recognized meant he was thinking swiftly, sorting it out. “If so, it was a really bad idea. But no way he'd meet them here and not be on guard. He didn't like the crime scene picture I showed him at all.”

Before he started to walk away, Rays said, “Maybe the tapes will help us all out. We'll let you know if we find anything.”

“Thanks.”

Ellie and Santiago both watched the body being loaded into the van as the other detective wandered off, talking on his cell phone. Light snow swirled around them in erratic patterns. She said contemplatively, “He could just be a drug dealer shot in a garage.”

“He could be a drug dealer
I
got shot in a garage. Why the hell would they leave the heroin if it was a deal gone south?” Santiago's expression was unreadable and he finally seemed to feel the cold. “I need a cup of coffee or a beer, but beer is chilled unless you're in England, and this is Milwaukee, so I'm thinking coffee. I'll buy.”

She did realize Seattle was known as the coffee capital of the US, but Milwaukee could hold its own. Considering the climate, people drank a lot of coffee. “Good idea. Maybe we can make some sense of this—”

The sound of tires squealing caught her off guard and scattered the crime scene unit as a car skidded around a corner, going way too fast and glancing off the bumper of a minivan, knocking the vehicle sideways and narrowly missing the ME van. The two men loading the body dropped the stretcher, and the sound was sickening as it hit the pavement. The dead man rolled when they dived out of the way. The car careened in the opposite direction, grazed a post, and sped off down the ramp.

Santiago swore, his weapon drawn but it happened so fast getting off a shot would have been impossible.

Next to her, he muttered, “What was that?”

Ellie, still standing by the pool of drying blood, had to admit her heartbeat had picked up a little. Rays was running, and they could hear the screech of tires on concrete as the car moved too fast to a lower level.

Then she called out, “I got a couple of numbers on the license plate and it wasn't Wisconsin-issue. Anyone see more?”

“I think it was North Carolina.” One of the techs was swiping at his knees with gloved hands, his face pinched. “I swear it said First in Flight. NC, right?”

“That would be it.” She hadn't caught that, but just that it didn't look like something she saw every day and he was closer. “Let's get them picked up.”

“The asshole nearly hit me,” the technician said bitterly.

“Why would someone from North Carolina meet a drug dealer in a parking garage in Milwaukee?” Ellie mused out loud, her mind racing.

“Want my guess? He wanted to buy two bags of heroin and instead witnessed a murder.” Santiago glanced around, digging in his pocket. “Shit, of course they did. Then they decided as cops started to pile in, that they were nervous and should get the hell out of Dodge.”

He could be right.

Her partner grabbed her arm. “Crown Vic. Black, new model. I didn't see the plate, but I'll take your word for it. Let's go. My car is right here.”

*   *   *

A high-speed pursuit
was hardly on his agenda for the afternoon, but then again, it seemed wise to hit the pavement running if possible. Ellie clicked her seat belt and didn't even object as he took the corner at almost the same speed as the escaping car. The gate on one side was broken through so that bought them some time, but he did slow down a little to make sure it was clear before he gunned the vehicle onto the street.

“We don't even know the direction they turned,” MacIntosh said reasonably, apparently unfazed by how he changed lanes three times in about forty seconds and was driving like a stunt man in a movie. “What if they went left?”

“Easier to go right.” He dodged a truck and pushed a button so the system on his vehicle was activated to his cell phone. “Call in and tell them where we are and what we're doing. I don't want to get pulled over for speeding or reckless driving, plus I want them looking for our first possible suspect too.”

She did it, reporting a chase in a possible homicide investigation, and then grabbed onto the passenger-side grip above her door to balance herself as he sped up.

No car ahead.

Well, fuck
.

Then, there it was. He caught the gleam of black at the same time as Ellie pointed, and again did a harrowing lane change, cutting off a Mercedes, but it brought them closer. He said tersely, “You get the entire plate and I make it possible, then we stop pursuit. That's the deal. I think they already know we're following them from the way they are driving, and this is not a face-off we're doing without backup.”

“What is this? ‘Err on the side of caution' from Jason Santiago?” Ellie turned to look at him incredulously.

It was impossible to explain. He couldn't risk her. A part of his brain told him he wasn't entirely doing his job, and another part understood how the men riding guard on the wagon trains over a century before circled around to defend the women. It wasn't selfless. Quite the opposite. He just wouldn't be able to forgive himself if it went all wrong.

Never mind that Ellie would probably strangle him if she knew what he was thinking.

The black car took a right, and no way, considering how the driver was acting, could they not know they were being followed just as he'd predicted. He took the same route, fairly sure two wheels came off the pavement he made the turn so fast. He said, “Our kids from the school said it was a black car.”

“There is more than one or two in the city of Milwaukee.”

“Come on, get out of the way,” he muttered urgently to the windshield, referring to the car ahead. “We just need one clear view.”

They didn't get it. Instead a driver in a blue sedan switched lanes in front of them, oblivious apparently to their pursuit. The black car took advantage and ran a light, red taillights coming on as the car between them stopped.

Jason rested his head briefly against the steering wheel after he slammed on his brakes and narrowly avoided an accident. The car disappeared into traffic. “There they go. Home free. Fuck.”

MacIntosh was on her phone now, reporting their location since they were stopped. “This is where we are and I've got a partial plate.”

By the time she hung up the light had changed and they pulled through, but Jason had no faith at all that he might pick the trail back up. “That sucked. We were close.”

“I took a picture with my phone. Maybe forensics can do something with it.” Ellie put the phone back in her pocket. “You sure it was a Crown Vic?”

He'd gotten a good look and he had an eye for cars. “Oh, yes.”

“Federal agents?” She looked puzzled, the fall of hair under the rim of her hat gold in the light.

“I don't think so.” He'd seen that kind of driving before; these people knew the streets. The car had disappeared by now, into a driveway somewhere if he had to guess. “Locals, and not new locals, and not good locals. They picked the car on purpose because it looks like a cop car, and they disappeared because they knew they could dodge us.”

“The heroin buyers. This isn't our murderer.”

“Maybe, so we shouldn't get our hopes up over them ever coming forward either.” Jason pulled through the intersection behind the still clueless driver of the car ahead. “I feel like I'm wandering around in the dark with my hands tied behind my back. I don't mind going on record saying it is fine to tie me up—I'd let you do it to me anytime—but this is bullshit.”

That won him a scathing look. “You
so
need to work on your sense of humor.”

“You've mentioned it. And quite a few of my other problems.” He would have added a lewd wink for effect but he was still looking for the car and the streets were not busy, but slick.

That comment at least made her reluctantly laugh.

“It might not be our murderer that we were just chasing, but obviously they weren't upstanding citizens.” MacIntosh was looking too, her gaze scanning the area. “We aren't going to repeat our luck with the boys from the school. These guys are not going to come forward about the murder, even if they didn't do it.”

“Nope.” He agreed completely. “Now we have several sets of possible witnesses out there that could help us, and yet apparently none of them will.”

Traffic streamed by, the treadmill apparent.

“It's snowing again.” Ellie rubbed her forehead. “Can I mention I am sick of winter?”

“It is a popular pastime in Milwaukee to gripe about the weather. Go ahead. You always get on me about it.”

“What do we do now?”

“Go for that cup of coffee I could really use? Just an idea I have swimming around in my head.”

“Always thinking of yourself.”

“I'm afraid so.”

If there was one thing he'd learned about Detective Ellie MacIntosh, it was that her brain moved forward in a linear, focused fashion so she probably didn't even hear what he'd just said. In profile, she was very still. “I'm going over this. His body had been there for a while. That bothers me. I think he was there to meet with whoever took off in the car and the heroin was part of that deal, but what if the reason they were still waiting was because he was already dead in that corner of the garage and they didn't know it?”

He signaled left. The suspects were long gone. There was a time to admit defeat and start regrouping. The car they were pursuing could have pulled in anywhere, or simply caught a break and made half a dozen lights by now … cruising around wasn't going to solve their problems.

Making an executive decision, he headed for his favorite dive that served not just coffee but cinnamon rolls. “We aren't catching them right at the moment and I propose a change of venue.”

 

Chapter 17

“We have a missing person report that might match the third victim.”

Ellie glanced up and registered that Santiago not only had a file he tossed on her desk, but was dressed in the tailored black suit they had selected, his unruly hair at least comparable to fashionably tousled, the dark narrow tie and white shirt doing some nice things for his coloring. He added, “You look good.”

She certainly hoped so since she'd spent about an hour getting ready and her usual routine was brushing her teeth and running a hairbrush through her hair, maybe some clear gloss for the evening, and if she was in the mood, a touch of mascara. Considering she'd opted out of the little black cliché and instead chosen a form-fitting scarlet dress she trotted out on special occasions, she expected at least one suggestive comment, but he seemed more interested in the most recent murder than the length of her skirt.

“Thank you.” She opened the file and glanced over it. There wasn't time at the moment to study it, but during the drive she could at least get the details. “Lance Young. Thirty-eight and single. He worked for a pest control company and he's not been seen for days. How strong is the possibility he's the one found in Jefferson County?”

“Right height, right weight, and a missing appendix all match up. The last time he was heard from is pretty accurate as well.” Santiago's voice was somber. “I sure hate like hell asking his parents to come try to identify him. I'm hoping Hammet can do it from family DNA but that takes a long time. If it is Young, he has a sister.”

“I don't think it would be possible for anyone to recognize him anyway unless there's a birthmark or scar or something definitive like that.”

A grim reality. She didn't want to think about that body in the woods with the ravaged face. Or any of the victims for that matter. She'd worked some tough cases and this one was pretty bad. If it was someone she loved, that would be beyond awful.

“We have a black car. We have two witnesses that are still in middle school so reliable is a questionable word when used to describe them. We have three victims with slashed faces and a dead man with two bullets through the back of his skull. Please tell me how to connect a guy walking around spraying insecticide to a college professor and someone who seems to have decided to just take over a house? And where does our drug dealer tie in, if he does at all? There's something else, but I don't see it.”

There so was. She couldn't see it, but she could
feel
it.

“Maybe the media can get our witness to come forward. I'm sure Mrs. Peterson will blame me, but if it works, I can handle it.”

“If the witness is still alive.” Ellie had really thought about it. “The boys said the screaming stopped abruptly.” It had bothered her then when she'd first heard of it and it bothered her now. “Maybe there's another cross-country skier who's going to get an unpleasant surprise.”

Her partner admitted, “That's occurred to me too, and Grasso also mentioned it as a possibility. I don't like it when we all are thinking along those lines.”

A passing uniformed officer gave a low whistle and grinned as he tapped Santiago on the shoulder. “Wow. Am I in Hollywood or something?”

“Fuck off, Wagner.” Santiago reluctantly laughed as he said the words. He turned back to Ellie. “We'd better go. The traffic on ninety-four can be a bitch and we need to check into the hotel. Bring the file and read it in the car. I'm driving.”