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“Aspersions? Have you been taking vocabulary classes? Anyway, I think,” Metzger said, holding his coffee cup so tightly his knuckles might have turned white, “we could currently be the highest volume department here in Milwaukee for homicides in a single week in the history of this state. Somebody better talk to me.”

MacIntosh, in a pencil slim black skirt and a short-sleeved white blouse with just a hint of lace at the neckline, somehow managed to look cool, even though the air-conditioning really wasn’t keeping up. She said slowly, as if she was thinking it out, “We’ve speculated about his link to law enforcement. Maybe he knew somehow we were watching her house.”

“Hells bells, Detective, you didn’t even tell
me
.”

She refused apparently to even look apologetic. “We have no idea now, and had no idea then, if any of the information Mrs. Hamilton delivered was relevant, sir.”

“I don’t mind if you take chances in your investigations, Detective, but keep me up to speed if—and heaven forbid—we ever have another one like it. That stands, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned and Carl knew he’d be the recipient of that cold, analytical gaze and he was absolutely right and ready for it. “Look, I put you on this for a purpose, Grasso. I want speed, and I want answers.”

“And you will have them, but last night he’d didn’t cooperate,” he said in what he thought was a reasonable tone. “I’m with both Santiago and MacIntosh. If I had to call it, Hamilton might have been next. How could we risk it?”

At least Metzger was reasonable despite the heat—and not just outside. On his terms, but that wasn’t new. “You
couldn’t
risk it. I’m not saying that … this is complicated, and truthfully, I hate complicated.” He got up heavily from the table and leveled a look at all three of them individually. “Here’s the simple part. Solve the case and Santiago won’t get fired, MacIntosh will prove I hired a fairly unknown officer to handle this and vindicate that decision, not to mention your past with the department, Carl. I need all three of you to come through.”

That was honest and brutal. Carl was hardly the lead detective, so he got the point. “No one wants to get him more than us.”

“Then
get
him. Please, talk about it, and go ahead and talk about me, once I’m gone.” The room was dead quiet. “I don’t care if you like me or you don’t … that’s hardly new to law enforcement. All I’m asking for is an arrest. Not so much, considering you
are
detectives. I’d really like to have the assurance I chose wisely when I assigned a case of this magnitude.”

“You’ll have that arrest.” Carl picked up his coffee cup. “I’ll walk through broken glass to see it happen and, I suspect, so will they.”

“Broken glass is nothing for you.” Metzger swept up the reports with a beefy hand, ready to leave the room. “I couldn’t care less about your dainty bleeding feet. Do something to impress me.”

They all stood. “Yes, sir.”

*   *   *

Impress the boss.

Easier said than done.

Jason could feel The Burner out there vibrating, waiting, on the edge of the abyss.

This was what he was good at. He knew the signs. Fuck yes, he should. He’d been there a time or two himself and those signs meant a thousand smoke rings rising. Visible but not necessarily readable.

Interpretation was everything.

He was missing a vital clue.

What the hell was it?

The law enforcement angle? He wasn’t a believer, but that meant nothing. Could be, and like he’d told MacIntosh, it might just be someone who was privy to the information, which actually was a long list. Besides the detectives, there were clerks and the previous investigators, not to mention administration. There always were leaks because people were involved and some really could not keep their mouths shut.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting back in his chair. Around him people were eating, chatting, laughing; the bar was noisy at lunch, which oddly enough always helped him think.

He didn’t really believe Ellie’s boyfriend, Dr. Grantham, was a real suspect, but at this point, he didn’t trust anyone, which wasn’t new in his life.

Kate could vouch for that, and would try and analyze it in the bargain. Too bad she’d walked out just as he was getting interesting.

Grantham was on his list though. He’d been suspect number one when the Lincoln County disappearances were going on and lo and behold, he comes back to Milwaukee and seven months later they have another serial on their hands. The guy was smart too, with a Ph.D. from Marquette and an undergrad degree from MIT. Self-employed, which gave him a great deal of autonomy, and he had access to Ellie MacIntosh.

“Another beer?”

Jason glanced up at the waitress. “No thanks.”

“Anything else?” She picked up his empty plate and smiled at him in a way he recognized. She was pretty cute too, brunette, a little plump, but he didn’t really mind that, with nice tits, and she had amazing skin, clear and pale. He wasn’t much for sun-worshippers and that worked in Wisconsin, because there wasn’t a hell of a lot of sun for a good deal of the year except this scorching summer.

If it wasn’t for the case, he might even have flirted a little, but he was too preoccupied to be smooth, and for that matter, he wasn’t good at smooth anyway. He said, “I’m fine. It was great.”

No lie there, it had been a big cholesterol fest of the classic fish and chips, deep fried all the way, cod and potatoes, and he’d drenched the former in tartar sauce and the latter in ketchup. In a few years he’d have to start to eat a little better, but for now, he’d been famished and it had tasted damned good. He’d even devoured the coleslaw and it wasn’t his favorite dish, but toss mayo into something, and he was on board.

“Then here you go.” She handed him a slip of paper and walked away. She also had a pretty nice ass.…

The television hanging in the corner of the bar switched to the news and a familiar name jerked his attention upward.

The killer known as The Burner struck again the other evening in Greendale, Wisconsin, a town close to Milwaukee, bringing the death toll to five and perhaps six, if a five-year-old case can be linked to this new series of murders and arson …

National news. Oh, great. Metzger was probably flipping shit, and actually, Jason couldn’t blame him. And who the hell was tipping the press about the Cameron murder? That hadn’t been released yet on an official level, as far as he knew, because they still weren’t sure about the relevance.

He glanced at the tab, put about twenty bucks too much on the counter, and left with the receipt in his pocket. The pretty waitress had written her phone number at the top and maybe later, maybe when they were done with this, he might just call her.

For now, though, he called his partner.

“See that?”

Ellie said, “You and I aren’t in the same place, can you be more specific?”

“On one of the major networks there was a news story about our case and they mentioned Cameron.”

She muttered something he was fairly certain he said on a too regular basis, or so he’d been told, and even been told by her.

“He’s going to go again tonight.” He slid into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start his car. The engine was too loud for talking on the phone.

“What makes you think so?”

“I’m not much for the profiling crap, but I believe Montoya about that. There’s an urgency going here, and though maybe he figured out we were watching Hamilton’s last night, I still think our asshole has something to finish.”

“Or he’s done. We need to figure out how
he
figured it out if you’re right. There’s our link.”

“He’s not done.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.” He started the car, the engine revving up. “I’ll meet you at the station.”

Barely audible, her response came through. “I’m already here.”

*   *   *

Santiago walked over
to her desk and sat down in one of the chairs. She caught the vague hint of alcohol and fried food, and tried to ignore that she’d eschewed lunch completely and instead eaten a small package of pretzels. He looked a little disheveled, but for whatever reason, attractive men seemed to be able to get away with that. She said, “Hamilton has been busy. Maybe if Metzger decides we are worthless, he can hire her.”

Her partner didn’t look all that amused. “I’m the one he wants to fire. Busy how so?”

“Actually, he doesn’t want to fire you. He’s trying hard not to do just that.” Ellie shoved a piece of paper across the desk. “Look at this.”

He picked it up and read it, then ran his fingers along his jaw and read it a second time. “Son of a bitch. McNeely was adopted at some point?”

She nodded. “After we told her last night to find another place to stay, she said she didn’t have much to do but think about him, remembered the name of the caseworker who inherited him from her, found the woman on the Internet, and called her up.”

“So he changed his name.”

“Sure looks like it.”

“Mother pussbuckets.”

She laughed. “What did you just say?”

He didn’t even respond to the derision in her tone. Instead he tossed the note back onto her desk and blew out a breath. “No wonder we can’t find this guy. He’s a ghost.”

“Not entirely. Hamilton only called me five minutes ago. I’ve got them searching adoption records now, but she wasn’t certain of the year, it’ll take a little bit, but we’ll find his name anyway, and hopefully, find
him
.”

“Before he decides that he needs to kill someone and set another house on fire?”

Her stomach tightened. “I can’t promise that and you can’t promise that either. I want to arrest someone so much I’m sitting
here,
when I could be doing other things, like drinking a nice glass of white wine overlooking the pool.”

“Or doing something else, like Grantham.”

“You know.” Ellie put her elbows on the desk, her smile not in the least an indication of amusement. “At moments like this, I really resent I was assigned to you as a partner. Keep the cracks about my personal life to yourself.”

“There will be more moments just like it, sorry.” Unapologetic, he gazed at the wall, his face taut. “We really need this name … man, we
really
need it. He’s going to do something tonight.”

Unfortunately, she was starting to trust his instincts. “Mrs. Hamilton is going home but Grasso is surveillance.”

“We need another team. Let’s let DCI cover this. I’m not sure he’s after her.”

“Who
is
he after then?”

“I don’t know.”

That was a mutual problem, she wasn’t sure either, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to have anything in common with Jason Santiago.

At this point, no choice.

“We could hear any minute.”

“But should we really sit around and wait for that call?”

She didn’t disagree. “Where would we go?”

“I kind of have a lead.”

“Oh,
kind of
? My favorite. Nothing solid then?”

“I’d point out you haven’t come up with anything brilliant either, but I think that would be redundant.”

“Redundant? The chief is right, you have been taking vocabulary lessons. Just tell me. I’m not in the mood for show-and-tell.”

She was tired, no doubt, with lines of fatigue in her face reflected in the mirror the last time she’d gone to the bathroom, and she could feel the tension in her shoulders.

Jason leveled a sardonic look at her. “Don’t be a—”

“Don’t say it.” She replied in staccato tones that must have gotten through because he didn’t actually call her a bitch. But he’d wanted to.

He settled his shoulders against the chair and elevated his brows. “Okay. So what’s next?”

Ellie got up and paced across the space in front of her desk, which wasn’t much, but it helped, and then she dropped back into her chair. “Look, can you indulge me here? I need to think this through and obviously Metzger expects something from me and I am not sure I can deliver.”

“At least he didn’t threaten to fire you.”

“Pretty close.”

“Almost.”

There was a part of her that thought he was absolutely right. This was going to test her tenure in the department. Someone out there either knew about them sending Mrs. Hamilton into safe harbor, or watched and figured it out.

Not reassuring either way.

“We have a team on Hamilton, right?”

“Grasso.”

“Good decision or bad?”

“DCI is on the ball as well. Why the fuck would it be bad? He’s more experienced than either one of us, let’s face it.”

She wasn’t going to comment, though it was tempting. “So what can we do to help facilitate this process?” Her eyes were level with his across the desk considering he was sprawled carelessly in his chair in a slouch.

He said, “I have an idea.”

She looked at him, at the tendrils of damp hair curling at his temples, at the hard-edged determination in his face, and she asked, “Like what?”

“Let’s take a road trip. I’ll have the call we’re waiting for transferred to my cell.”

Chapter 26

The symbolic nature of it all didn’t escape me, but for time out of mind, people have been exactly that way: busy, inquisitive, absorbed with themselves but curious about others, and the phrase “none of my business” is one of the most absurd in the history of mankind.

We all want to know what everyone else is doing. To not put too fine a point on it, we do stick our noses where they don’t belong, just like other animals.

Such an advantage if you are trying to commit a crime. Someone is always willing to talk to you, to give you what you need, and unless you wear a sign that says Murderer around your neck, it is all so easy.

So very easy …

But it was getting harder. Did they realize that? Yes, there were degrees.

Much harder, but it just needed to be done or all of it was pointless.

*   *   *

The café was
homey, a bit old with tile floors and retro chairs that were only retro because they might actually
be
from the sixties, around small tables that didn’t match. The minute Ellie walked in the door almost all the conversation stopped, but this was a very small town, and she certainly was a stranger.