Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (17 page)

The bone sat nestled intimately between a chunk of gnarled hemlock and a peeled length of pine. It was in the second row, so he hadn’t seen it when he hauled off the first log, but now it was exposed, vulnerable, naked. He stared, a prickle of sweat glossing his skin under the cover of shirt and jacket. It was long, knobby at the end … Tibia? he wondered with a detached clinical resurgence of some college class on anatomy he’d taken for the challenge of it. The ax dangled from his hand and fell on the ground with a dull thud that reverberated in the quiet morning.

It looked human.

He blinked, tried to swallow and failed, then drew in a whistling breath. There was an odd buzzing in his ears, like an angry beehive.

This is not happening.

Right. Not. Happening.

It wasn’t human, a voice somewhere inside him insisted. He was no expert. Why would he think it was human? Bryce worked loose his frozen jaw and took a cautious step forward, as if the thing could levitate and attack him.

There were more skeletal fragments. Glimpses of bleached white among the stacked logs, layered in like a terrine in a fancy restaurant. No skull, not that he saw, but his vision was a bit on the blurry side. Arms at his side, he struggled with disbelief and a horrifying sense of incredulity.

No animal would crawl between the logs and die in such a way. At least he didn’t think it was possible, but without pulling the logs out and really looking, he couldn’t tell. Whatever creature it had been, that was a long bone …

On shaky legs, he walked around the small lean-to, the morning sun filtering through the mostly bare branches of the crowded trees warm on his head and shoulders. It felt good, he thought remotely, because he was freezing. The sharp odor of pine resin and rotting leaves filled his nostrils as he tried to get a better look.

Something crunched under his booted foot. It seemed inordinately loud and he stepped back as if he’d been shot. In a nightmare daze, he bent and picked up what looked like a small twig nestled in a pile of damp oak leaves.

It was part of a bone, delicate and small, snapped in half from his weight. A finger fragment, Bryce guessed. He knelt and saw there were more pieces scattered among the leaves, the small array of bones in the fecund debris of the fallen vegetation in no particular order but he knew they were from a human hand.

*   *   *

The area was
a mixture of restaurants, office buildings, high-rise banking institutions, and side streets that had been reclaimed into the new urban ideal of fashionable living. Ellie saw the building they sought was warehouse chic with a plain brick façade and no place to park. The anonymity of it all made it hard to determine if they had the right address, but they eventually found a space on the street about a block away, and walked back to find a small, glassed-in foyer and stairs upward. They pressed the appropriate button that corresponded to the Grantham loft, and there was a click as a green light on the security door glowed. Rick opened it for her, and muttered, “No trees, no yard, no thanks.”

“It’s how professionals live now,” Ellie answered as they gained the second story and found themselves in front of a polished door of what looked like alder wood, with gold numbers discreetly embossed that declared it the right place. “Close to work, shops, culture. All the amenities of downtown life at your fingertips. Just think, it’s walking distance to the pricey restaurants that charge fifty dollars for a steak, or you could buy a Coach purse at one of those boutique shops we just passed.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll pass. I guess I don’t need a new purse.”

Ellie thought about her modest cozy house tucked into the woods and smiled. “Me either, but it’s kind of a moot point. On our salaries, Deputy, we have to pass. She’s obviously expecting us to be punctual.”

Suzanne Colgan-Grantham
was
waiting. She answered the door on the first press of the doorbell. Bryce Grantham’s former wife wore a clingy silk blouse tucked into designer jeans on a Saturday morning, the scarlet color showcasing her dramatic coloring. A perfect fall of glossy dark hair swung at her shoulders and either she had the smoothest skin Ellie had ever seen or else those prohibitively expensive cosmetics really worked. Almond shaped eyes, expertly outlined for maximum effect, and a touch of lipstick completed the picture, and it was easy to imagine that when they had still been a “they,” she and Bryce Grantham had been a striking couple.

Those dark eyes studied them as Ellie explained who they were. Rick, in his uniform, negated the producing of badges and the ex–Mrs. Grantham didn’t ask for more formal identification. She just stepped back to invite them inside. “I saw you drive by, and there aren’t too many county sheriff vehicles in this neighborhood, Detective. Come in.”

No wonder she’d seen them, as the wall facing the street was entirely glass. There were also soaring brick walls, exposed beams, and furniture out of
House Beautiful
defined the space. A giant oil painting hung next to a sleek, polished wood staircase that slanted upward to a different level, the style modern in slashes of bold, vibrant colors. Their hostess led them over to a grouping of leather furniture and glass tables perched on an Oriental rug and indicated they should sit down. She chose a chair, sank into it with a graceful, almost feline movement that seemed a bit contrived, and lifted her brows. “I admit you have me curious. On the phone you said this had nothing to do with one of my clients. I’ve been in the meantime assessing my personal life and can’t come with a single reason a sheriff’s deputy and a detective from northern Wisconsin would want to interview me. How can I help you?”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about your ex-husband, ma’am.”

The perfectly plucked brows soared higher. “Bryce?”

Ellie nodded, wondering if the surprise was feigned or real. It seemed real, but the woman was a lawyer after all. Since her ex-husband’s family owned property in the area of their jurisdiction, surely it had occurred to her it involved him somehow. Trying to up the shock value, Ellie added, “We’re investigating a homicide with the possibility other disappearances are linked to it.”

Now the surprise was real. Suzanne Colgan-Grantham didn’t know what to say, and for an attorney, that usually took some doing. After a moment, the woman blinked and found her voice. “You think Bryce is linked to a
murder
? In what way?”

Rick so far had been silent. He usually was, since she had more experience in these kinds of investigations, but he said, “Ma’am, we get to ask the questions if you don’t mind.”

She obviously didn’t like a sheriff’s minion pointing that out and her mouth tightened, her tone acerbic. “I’m not denying cooperation, Deputy. I am just understandably taken aback.”

“Could you please explain why you took out a restraining order against your husband during your pending divorce proceedings?” Ellie asked, intervening.

“What on earth does our divorce…” She seemed to catch herself and straightened a little. She had a lithe, trim body to go with the well-maintained, expensive surroundings. One hand restlessly rubbed her knee and she took a moment to formulate the answer. “We had separated. He had come in unexpectedly once or twice and it frightened me as I wasn’t used to have someone suddenly in the house. I asked him not to do it any longer, but we weren’t really communicating all that well, as you can imagine. The restraining order was insurance he would keep out.”

Light from the tall windows lent slanting blocks of illumination on the rug, making the colors glow like jewels. The glass coffee table didn’t even sport one speck of dust. “You weren’t frightened of him physically?” Ellie asked.

Was the hesitation because this was an opportunity to malign her ex-husband? Or was it because Ms. Colgan-Grantham didn’t want to admit she
had
been frightened? After a moment the woman shrugged. “No, I wasn’t afraid of him physically. I wanted him to stay out of the damned house. He was the one who moved out, so he could just stay out, in my opinion.”

Short and sweet with just a hint of resentment left that maybe Grantham had made the preemptive strike. Ellie was no psychologist, but it sounded that way to her.

“Your ex-husband never threatened you?”

“If you are investigating a homicide and consequently investigating
him,
it appears, you’ll have met him, Detective. Bryce really isn’t the threatening type. I think I saw him lose his temper about three times in the course of our five-year marriage, and those were because I really pushed his buttons. Usually if we argued, he just shut up.”

That meant nothing, of course. Plenty of serial killers had been perceived as nonconfrontational and mild mannered.

“Under what terms did you then couch the need for a restraining order, Ms. Colgan-Grantham?”

“Basically, emotional duress under the heading of harassment.” Her beautiful face wore an expression that reflected no remorse. “Perfectly legal. We were done and we didn’t need to see each other anymore.”

“Did he respect the order?”

“Yes. If I hadn’t thought he would, believe me, I wouldn’t have bothered. He even waived the hearing and accepted it in writing.”

So, in short, she’d counted on her now ex to be law-abiding. Ellie knew what she meant too. Restraining orders were frequently ignored, for until they were violated, there was nothing the police could do. A restraining order was filed in civil court, not criminal court, and until the subject of the order did something criminal to break it, the police really weren’t involved. Unfortunately, every once in a while, a tragedy happened when the subject of the order found the one who’d placed it and exacted the revenge that had been the fear all along. In those cases, the police came along after the fact and scraped up the damage, having not protected anyone. Ellie would feel worse about it, but she wasn’t the one who made the law. She just tried to enforce it as best as possible.

“Can you tell us anything else about his emotional state or past that might help us?”

Suzanne settled more firmly in her chair. “How do I know what will help you? I don’t even have an inkling of why you are here talking about my ex-husband. Let’s also keep in mind I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

The investigation was on the news already and Ellie had a feeling his identity would break soon anyway. Evenly she said, “We have four missing women in around eighteen months. Law enforcement hasn’t been able to find a trace in all that time. Dr. Grantham was with one of the victims the night she disappeared and found the body of another just a few days later. The suspicious circumstances could just be bad luck, as he claims. We’re just trying to make sure.”

“Holy shit,” Suzanne said in a less than elegant mutter, a contrast to the setting and her carefully orchestrated attire. “I read about that in the paper. That’s
Bryce
?”

“Now do you understand why we’re here?” Rick sat stolidly next to Ellie, his formidable size a contrast to the quiet question.

“Yes, I think I do.” Suzanne stuck out her lip theatrically and blew out her breath. She rubbed her cheek and frowned. “I’m just taken off balance. Give me a minute.”

They waited. Ellie shifted a little on the leather couch, not sure how to interpret the other woman’s reaction.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Suzanne straightened her spine and crossed her long legs. Her tone had turned crisp and professional again. The lawyer phoenix rising from the ashes of disbelief. “It doesn’t sound very conclusive to me.”

“Counselor, you know we aren’t going to reveal to you details of this investigation,” Ellie said with what she hoped was patience.

Suzanne regarded her, those almond shaped eyes direct. “All right, you want a statement, and I’ll give one. Bryce and I aren’t married any longer and things didn’t end on a very friendly note, but truthfully most of the animosity was on my side. Even when I treated him like crap, he didn’t get nasty back really. In a way, I’d have preferred it. I argue with people every day. It’s my job. His tendency to walk away from confrontation made me crazy. It just built up until I couldn’t take it anymore. Even when he was in the right, he didn’t defend himself. I could never decide if he was just too passive, or if he was so secure he didn’t feel the need to put himself through the ordeal. I think it was the latter.”

The picture she painted was far from enlightening. “So you’re saying what, exactly?”

“I don’t think the man I was married to for five years would voluntarily hurt anyone.” Suzanne sighed and ran her hand through her shining dark hair. It irritatingly fell right back into place in an immaculate curve. “He wants to write a book, but his mind works in circles not straight lines. To him if a person wants to embark on something like the great American novel, they get a Ph.D. in literature, of course. Never mind the cost, the time, the fact it might not help at all when he was already doing well in consulting … we aren’t in the least alike. He’s a dreamer. An extremely smart dreamer, but nonetheless, a little impractical. He makes a good living at what he does. Do you have any idea how much he could make if he started his own company?”

The fact that Suzanne Grantham liked expensive possessions wasn’t exactly a secret from the chic and understated opulence of the home they’d once shared, but the insight was a little valuable anyway. “No,” Ellie said dryly, “but we’ve seen his tax records and he does pretty well already. I’m a civil servant, so don’t depress me.”

“You think we’re barking up the wrong tree.” Rick didn’t look as if he agreed, his mouth set in a mutinous line.

She gave a typical lawyer nonanswer. “Look, I’ve had clients that lie, steal, cheat, and still are elders in their church. Bryce was seeing a therapist, but I doubt that information will do you any good. Confidentiality is like a chastity belt on patient privilege.”

“Dr. Grantham was seeing someone for psychiatric help?” Ellie’s interest sharpened.

“No. He saw a clinical
psychologist
for a while. Right after he moved out. I don’t know if he still does. The only reason I know he did it at all is that when he started, he was still on my insurance.”