Fractured (2 page)

“I'm not the medical examiner but I can say with some certainty he bled out, which meant his heart was still pumping.” Ellie took in a steadying breath. One of her fears when she was promoted to homicide was that she might become immune to the horror of what human beings could inflict upon one another. It hadn't happened yet apparently.

The victim's face was a disaster, slashed to pieces, nothing intact, his nose half missing, the eyes covered in blood. She wasn't even sure they were still there …

Good God
.

“This is worse than the university murder,” she observed, glad her voice sounded even and professional because her skin was suddenly clammy and she had to consciously swallow. If there was one thing a homicide detective did not do, it was get sick at the sight of a dead body.

But this … this was the manifestation of a violence she found hard to comprehend.

“Look at his chest.” Santiago, careful to not step in the blood pool, not easy considering the size of it, knelt and pointed. “This is what makes me sure we have a repeat offender. See the pattern?”

The victim's coat and shirt were ripped open. Unfortunately, she'd seen it before. Santiago was right. Same killer.

A cross. A series of stab wounds in the form of a perfect cross.

Ellie crouched down next to him, stripping off her winter gloves and shoving them into her pocket. She'd put on latex ones underneath in the car. “All the crime scene photos done?”

“Yep.”

“Then let's take a little closer look.”

*   *   *

Jason Santiago had
to admire his partner's cool composure, but he'd seen the stunned expression on her face when she first realized the sheer viciousness of the attack. Ellie MacIntosh was an excellent detective, but part of that was because she processed a case on both an intellectual level and an emotional one. Truthfully, he'd been on the job longer than she had by a few years and he'd had a moment himself when he'd first seen the body.

This was a bad one.

The poor eighty-year-old lady next door was probably going to have nightmares for the rest of her natural life. While he waited for Ellie to arrive, he'd urged the woman to call her daughter and maybe spend the night somewhere else just until they caught the person who had done this to her neighbor.

Kind of a big promise.

More like
if
they caught him. They still had nothing on the other case.

Together they eased open the victim's open coat a little more, which wasn't all that easy to do since it was stiff with frozen blood. Underneath, his shirt had been unbuttoned and he'd been stabbed six times vertically, and four horizontally.

An exact match to the university murder.

Ellie stood. “Had to be postmortem. It's a signature of some kind.”

His thoughts exactly. “Just like the last one.” He rose too and inclined his head to the left. “I don't think there's much of a chance for a witness.”

There was an abandoned school on the other side of the street. The windows were boarded up and the broken sign out front had once said: F
RANKLIN
E
LEMENTARY
. The city maintained the lawn obviously, since it had been neatly clipped at the end of the season, but it still held an unmistakable aura of disuse and desolation. That left the scenario of someone watching from across the street out of the picture.

He added, “Let's go check it out inside and see if we can get a handle on who and what this guy might be. Crime scene said they didn't really find much, but maybe we'll pick up on something. The door was unlocked and partially ajar when the first officer arrived.”

Ellie said crisply, “If there were a witness someone isn't doing their civic duty because he's been here for a few days at least from the neighbor's timeline. By all means, let's go in.”

She had blond hair that brushed her shoulders, with vivid hazel eyes that were disturbingly direct at times, delicate features, and a slender but athletic figure. When they'd first been assigned together he'd rejected the idea, knowing she didn't have his experience in homicide, but he'd eventually grudgingly accepted it because he hadn't been given a choice. Already he'd been skating on thin ice with the department, while she'd just solved a sensational serial murder case in northern Wisconsin.

So he'd taken the high road and not said much about it.

He was aware that she'd been assigned as his partner because not everyone wanted to work with him and she had been the new kid on the block. His smartass mouth frequently got him into trouble. On the other hand, they'd solved some pretty high-profile cases together already in less than a year.

There was no foyer, but that wasn't surprising considering the age of the house. The front door opened into the living room, and it was about as impressive as the outside. Dreary curtains on dreary windows that looked like they'd just been left behind when the last tenant moved out. No couch, nothing but a single plastic outdoor chair facing a small television in the corner.

MacIntosh looked around, her expression thoughtful. “Not a single picture on the walls to give us an idea of his personality.”

He didn't have any either in his apartment, so Jason muttered, “Doesn't mean a thing besides that he didn't have much of an emotional investment in this place.”

Ellie's red hat stuck out in the center of the room, a bright spot in a sea of ambiguity. As she swept the room with an assessing gaze, he recognized the analytical look on her face. “Three weeks and he really hadn't moved, that I can tell. Why?”

She was right, but she was frequently right. The house smelled like mildew and maybe old socks, and Jason thought gratefully of his apartment in a complex that might be generic, but was hardly anything like this place. Jason pointed out, “The television is new.”

It was, sitting on what looked like an upended milk carton by the wall. They went to check the kitchen. The refrigerator held a quart of orange juice, three cans of Budweiser, and absolutely nothing else. Ellie mused, “He was staying here, not living here. Treading water, giving himself time.”

It wasn't like he disagreed, so he didn't comment. “Upstairs?”

“Let's go.”

Gloom, more cold … even he was starting to feel depressed, and Jason could have sworn he'd conquered that monster, but these cold, empty walls were a little hard to take as they went up the narrow staircase to the first bedroom.

Square room, unmade bed, small dresser. No curtains even though the house faced east. The occupant would also have to look at that damned abandoned school and for some reason that bothered Jason more than anything.

The thought of those echoing halls … his ex-girlfriend had once told him he had too much imagination for this job, and while he scoffed at it—most of the department thought he was insensitive and irreverent—maybe Kate was right. He took one look out the window and turned his back. “Cozy, huh?”

Ellie prowled around and opened a few drawers—all empty—and didn't comment at once. The closet was small, and also empty. She frowned, looking perplexed. “Not hardly. What is going on here?”

 

Chapter 2

Home.

She wished it felt a little more that way. It wasn't that Bryce hadn't been his usual easygoing self, letting her gradually settle in, and his personality made that simple enough. That didn't negate her nagging feelings of displacement since moving in with him, but then again, living with another human being always involved some compromise.

Bryce must have heard her open the door. It was already after ten o'clock, pitch dark with a rising wind outside whispering along the eaves. And after that murder scene, she would be shivering anyway. Bryce was in his office, frowning at his computer screen, the house utterly quiet. He turned around in his chair, his gaze inquiring, when she came into the room.

She'd missed him. Ten days was a long time. The real question was, had he missed her?

Their relationship always left her guessing, and it was probably her fault. It wasn't so much a lack of understanding as that they were navigating the treacherous waters of a relationship built on initial mutual distrust. At one time she had almost arrested him.

Always an interesting way to start a romance.

They'd gotten past it or there would not be a romance at all, but despite what she felt was the first true love affair of her life, Ellie was a very different challenge than his ex-wife. Suzanne Grantham had been selfish and complicated, and Ellie was probably also complicated but instead of selfish, he assured her he thought of her as just very focused.

Diplomatic if nothing else. Tall, dark-haired, good-looking,
and
diplomatic. What more could a girl ask for?

In an ordinary voice, he said, “Are you hungry? I made you a plate. Just let me save this and I'll be right there.”

“No, but I could use a glass of water.” The trip had taken its toll, and not just the traveling part, and then to arrive to such a horrific welcome hadn't improved her inner sense of desolation. She was aware she looked strained, and Bryce caught on quickly because he made no move to kiss her hello or even offer her a hug.

If he had, there was every chance she might splinter into a thousand pieces and cry on his shoulder, and that was not what she needed right now. Points to him for realizing it. Keeping it together was better. She wasn't as tough as nails just because she carried a gun and had a badge. She was probably quite the opposite because her empathy for the victims and their families drove her, but she didn't need to weep, she needed to regroup. Ellie went down the hall, took out a tumbler from the cupboard, filled it from the faucet, and drank half of it down. When was the last time she'd eaten? About twelve hours ago she'd managed to grab a bagel between connecting flights.

They had yet to discuss why she hadn't invited Bryce to go to Florida with her. She'd merely announced one day she was going, declined his offer to drive her to the airport, and had left. He still didn't ask why when he came into the kitchen, but merely said, “Can I take your coat and hang it up for you?”

“I don't know.” She set down her glass on the granite countertop. “I feel like I'll never be warm again.”

“Let me turn on the fireplace. Are you sure you don't want some food? I kept it warm.”

She unzipped her coat. “Thanks. Yes to the coat, yes to the fireplace, but I can't eat right now. Hi, by the way.” She handed him her jacket, briefly pressing her lips to his. Not much of a kiss, but an effort.

“There's an open bottle of Merlot still breathing on the table.”

“Bryce, tell me you ate without me.” There was reproach in her voice.

“I did. I live with a homicide detective, remember? They tend to have some interesting hours.” Finally he asked, “Want to tell me what's going on?”

She decisively shook her head. “I can't right now. Don't ask why.”

He wouldn't. If there was one thing she'd learned since she'd moved in with him several months ago, it was that he didn't push her for what she wasn't ready to give. It didn't help open communications that he was much the same way, but it did make for mutual understanding. She was also willing to give him space when he needed it, so that dynamic of their relationship worked very well.

He went into the living room, hit the remote for the gas fireplace, and accepted the glass of wine she'd poured for him before she settled on the leather couch, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs under her. She took a sip and stared at the flames. “Hmm. This I need. I missed it. Don't be surprised if I'm asleep in about two minutes.”

“Missed Milwaukee in the dead of winter? Bare trees, snow, frozen lakes and ponds. Yeah, I can see the attraction.” He sat next to her but didn't touch her. “Much better than sunny Florida. Why?”

It was time to talk about it. Ellie stared at the leaping flames. “Much better. My mother has breast cancer. That's why I went.” There. She'd said the words.

He exhaled quietly. “Oh, I see. I think I understand now why you didn't invite me along for your tropical vacation.”

“I should have explained.” Ellie shifted a little closer and leaned her head on his shoulder, lowering her lashes. He felt warm and solid. “I needed to deal with facts before I could figure out how I feel about it all.” She still hadn't figured it out. Well, maybe she had. She was terrified.

He slipped his arm around her waist. “I've picked up on that, believe it or not.”

“Jody came too,” she went on, referring to her sister. “We talked to the doctors and it looks pretty good, actually. They removed the tumor and Mom's going to start chemo, and since she's healthy and active, the prognosis is very positive. We went to the beach and relaxed … it was a decent trip all in all but you would
not
have wanted to be there.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “That's good news overall and now I feel like a jerk for wondering why you didn't want me to come along.”

She glanced up at him. “You didn't ask.”

“I somehow got the impression you didn't want me to ask.”

True enough. He had a point. “Her news is much better than the prognosis for the victim tonight. I predict he will enjoy a very prolonged experience on the table of the medical examiner tomorrow being taken to pieces.” Ellie's voice was subdued. “If she matches the stab wounds to the university murder last month, I think this city might have a big problem.”

The flames flickered convincingly like a real fire and Bryce took a moment before he asked, “How so?”

“It seems like there is a signature to both the murders. I have no idea at this point what it could possibly mean, which translates to not being able to predict what might happen next. We need to connect the two cases in some way other than the pattern of the knife wounds. The first victim was a college professor, and the second one we haven't identified, which is key in any crime. Maybe it isn't the same killer … I don't know.”