On one of those trips he realized his parents despised each other. He’d known in a childlike way that they didn’t talk much even at home, but it had been a pivotal moment when he was ten and came to the conclusion they truly were not and never had been in accord.
They were both cheerful people when the other one wasn’t around, but put them together and dinners were eaten in total silence at the square farm table in the kitchen and his father scraped his plate clean and left as soon as possible. His mother brightened the minute he left the room and would bring out the cookies that were their special secret, as she put it, but by then he knew she’d just not been willing to share them with his father out of spite.
Their dysfunctional relationship had taught him nothing really about love, but a lot about hate.
He always ate the cookies—why not, they were good—but had wondered even back then how easy it would be to conceal your true feelings just by a false smile in front of other people.
Lesson learned.
* * *
Santiago had tacos, and either they were extra delicious or he was ravenous, because he devoured them in record time.
He was also hungry for information, but he wasn’t ruining her dinner. Ellie ate her burrito at a much slower pace, and he finally had to ask with one word, “Montoya?”
She set aside her napkin. “Now you sound like Grasso. Montoya is on vacation. He’s going to get back to me. He wasn’t encouraged by either the flowers or the phone call, but let’s keep in mind we really can’t connect either of those two things to what we’re doing with enough level of proof.”
“Oh come on.”
She gathered up the plates she’d insisted they use and he handed over his cloth napkin. She said, “We are committing the cardinal sin of our profession by drawing conclusions. I think they teach that on the first day of cop school.”
“I was probably truant. Skipping class was always one of my hobbies.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Let me help with the dishes.”
“You mean putting two plates in the dishwasher? You got the food, so I’ll clean up. Go check your precious sports scores. But I warn you, do it now, because I want to watch a movie and I don’t have a television in my bedroom on purpose. I sleep in there and that’s it, so that television in the living room is the only option.”
“I hope it isn’t going to be some chick flick, but it’s your house. This is easier on us both. Metzger was probably right and you could handle it, but it’s always the monster under the bed that got you. Besides, I’m fairly sure neither one of us would have gotten any sleep. I would have been tempted to call every hour just to make sure I got a response.”
It was a nice night with stars out and a crescent moon and he walked outside instead of turning on the television, hands in his pockets. No doubt he was checking the street.
Her phone rang, showing an unknown number.
She stared at the display and gritted her teeth and answered anyway. She was a police officer, but she was also a woman. The idea of being stalked made her feel vulnerable and she didn’t like it at all. He had an agenda and somehow she’d become part of it. “MacIntosh.”
“Cinderella.”
“I don’t really think I like the nickname. I know who you are.”
“No, you don’t. If you did, I’d be under arrest. Do you like roses?”
“I—”
He hung up. Again.
Not chancing a possible trace. Technology was fine, but some of it should be banned. The call was from somewhere nearby, of that she had no doubt, and they could pick up the location maybe, but if he was clever about it, the phone would be untraceable.
Jason came in. Ellie obviously had an expression on her face that told him in just those few moments something went way wrong. She was sitting on the couch, looking at the television, which was not turned on, and her eyes were unfocused. In his usual not-smooth way, he asked, “Okay, what the hell just happened? I was gone for maybe three minutes, tops.”
“He just called me again.”
Jason muttered something under his breath that she suspected was particularly foul, even for him. “Are you flippin’ serious? What did he say?”
“He asked me if I liked roses. Pointed out we don’t know who he is.” There was that flash of fear again she hated. He was right. They knew what he was but not who he was.
“He’s making us guess at what he’s going to do next.”
“You have to admit it’s working.”
He did. “It could be the bag boy at the supermarket where you shop. I don’t think so, but I’ve made it clear I don’t roll that direction. I think he’s someone you know in some way, Ellie.”
“You and Montoya both.”
“It’s fine that you finally brought up that conversation.”
“I wasn’t avoiding it, I was thinking it over.”
“Keep going. I need some microwave popcorn for the movie. All that health in the takeout is going to wreak havoc with my system otherwise.”
“You are welcome to make some at any time. Make yourself at home seems redundant because here you are, and to be truthful, I’m glad you have such high marks when it comes to the firing range. The popcorn is on the shelf above the microwave.”
He gave her a very serious look for him. “With all this going on, I’m not going to leave you alone. You know that.”
She gave in a little. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.”
“And I’m here to make sure of it.”
“You know, this macho thing doesn’t really fly with me. I believe we just had this conversation recently. We’re working this as a team. Sir Galahad can stable his white horse. I don’t need you to rescue me, I need you to help me catch him.”
“Here’s an interesting bulletin. You aren’t allowed to tell me how I feel about this particular case. My therapist tells me it isn’t unmanly to admit I actually have feelings. Damn, there goes most of my life doing it all wrong once again. By the way, dinner is on Friday.”
The dinner. With his parents. Like the famous song, raindrops did keep falling on her head. “Like this Friday?”
“Yeah.” His enthusiasm was at about a two on a ten scale. “I wouldn’t mind if you called me Jason in front of them. I’m passing you off as my girlfriend.”
For once they really agreed on something. Her enthusiasm wasn’t all that high either.
* * *
Her expression didn’t change. He knew Grantham was still out there; they were apart, but it might not be over, and Jason was skidding on thin ice anyway because he was 100 percent sure she thought a relationship between them was the worst idea on this earth. Luckily she nodded after a second. “That’s fine.”
“Do you like roses?”
Her mouth formed a firm line. “That isn’t even remotely funny.”
“I wasn’t trying for funny. I was actually just curious.”
“They are beautiful and smell good. Of course I do. Don’t ever waste your very hard-earned grocery money on them, though, because they wither and die and the recipient is stuck with making the decision of when to toss them in the trash.”
“That is the least romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Look, Mr. Romance, I thought we were talking about a serial killer.”
He tried to be neutral about it, but he didn’t do neutral very well. “Given I’ve said flat out how I feel about you, I think that was a perfectly valid question about the roses. Lukens tells me you’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”
“You told her?” Hazel eyes regarded him with true consternation.
“She’s a therapist, for God’s sake, Ellie. Someone in my condition of emotional impairment needs a lot of that. Now, what movie are we going to watch? Please tell me it’s Beerfest or something like that. What about Animal House? Now that is a good movie.”
“Look, you Philistine, I was thinking along the lines of something more cerebral like A
madeus. It’s one of my go-to favorites.”
He’d never seen it, so it wasn’t fair to groan out loud. “A musical?”
“It’s about people, Santiago. It’s really about how genius comes in all shapes and sizes. Keep an open mind.”
He got up off the couch. “I definitely am going to need that popcorn and a beer.”
He was halfway to the kitchen when he heard the crash. It wasn’t terribly loud, but definitely audible even inside the house, so right out front, and he whirled around as Ellie jumped to her feet. It took a sprint to catch her before she rushed out the front door. Grabbing her arm, he said firmly, “Don’t. Let me go look.”
“We’ll both go.”
He had no choice, since she wrenched free.
It was his truck. The back window was smashed in and he was thoroughly unhappy but more than anxious to see if anyone was hanging around to get a thrill from his reaction.
“He’s here somewhere.” His voice was tight.
Crickets chirping, the smell of spring in the air, and glass just about everywhere all over her driveway and his truck made for a nice spring night.
“I’m just going to guess you’re right.” Ellie looked about as unhappy as he was and she didn’t have an expensive broken window to deal with. “Let’s see if he follows his regular pattern and cruises on by.”
A car did come down the street then, but when they ran out and blocked it, flashing their badges, it just turned out to be a bewildered older couple.
“Vandalism. This just happened.” Jason pointed at his truck. “We were wondering if you folks saw anything.”
“No … I’m sorry.” The man driving stammered. “We live down the block. I think I’ll put the car in the garage tonight. Damn kids.”
“Good idea, sir.” He didn’t want to mention it might be a personal agenda, because for all he knew it was a bunch of kids just getting their kicks out of riding around causing property damage. It had been known to happen all too often.
But his cop sense was telling him something else. “He’s out there.”
“I think so too.”
Ellie looked both slender and vulnerable standing next to him. He felt about two feet taller than her, even though he wasn’t, and wanted to carry her inside, set her down, and tell her firmly to stay put.
It wouldn’t work. She’d be so infuriated she’d probably punch him. For all he knew he’d deserve it, but at least his motives were decent.
“Why is it I doubt he’d come by to ask either of us if we needed help, but he’s watching somehow. I know it. It probably happened when we ran out. I didn’t notice a car speeding away, but all he had to do is stand in the bushes across the street to catch his thrill and then just fade away on foot.”
“Oh, we seem to be on his radar, dammit. Is he going to be able to pull this off?”
At least the movie wasn’t too bad. He’d learned a lot about Mozart, who didn’t seem to have had a really happy life, so maybe genius was overrated.
He learned nothing about the killer.
* * *
Georgia adjusted her blotter. She did it about fifteen times a day and knew it was habitually a sign she was thinking about something other than typing out her notes or half a dozen things she should be doing.
Her night with Carl Grasso had been interesting, to say the least. As a lover he was thoughtful and took his time. She didn’t regret the decision to sleep with him, but had to wonder if it had been a mistake.
The man was not all that emotionally available, to her or anyone else, in her professional opinion. He was intelligent—almost frighteningly so—and definitely attractive in a physical way, but he absolutely never talked about his feelings. That big house was more like a museum than a home. When he said he hadn’t gotten around to changing anything, she suspected he hadn’t gotten around to dealing with the sudden death of both of his parents even with all the time that had passed. It wouldn’t surprise her if their clothes were still hanging in the closets. Clearly the room she and he had slept in was his boyhood bedroom, not that it had been childish in any way, but in a house that size it certainly wasn’t the master bedroom, and the bathroom had been across the hall. It was an interesting quandary to be in. It was ironic that as a therapist she’d love to have a complicated patient like him, but that was certainly now out of the question. It was bad enough she saw both Ellie MacIntosh and Jason Santiago when they worked so closely together and had a personal relationship of sorts, but absolutely unethical to sleep with a patient. Besides, she had the impression that if she even suggested Carl needed therapy, he would be surprised, but maybe she was selling him short.
The light on her desk went on, telling her the next patient was there. Cindy was a resentful teen her parents forced to come to her appointments, and it was probably a good strategy they never asked about the sessions. All they’d said was please talk to her.
She walked in wearing a completely inappropriate ensemble for her age in about the shortest skirt Georgia had ever seen, a skintight shirt without a bra, and thigh-high black shiny boots. Her makeup was over the top as well, with bright green eyeshadow and deep red lipstick.
“I hate this shit,” she announced, taking the chair in front of the desk. “I’m sure my parents told you already, but I’ve gotten suspended again.”
“Actually,” Georgia said mildly, “your parents don’t talk to me. You are supposed to talk to me. Suspended for what?”
“Cheating on a test. The principal just doesn’t like me. I’ve been called into his office three times now for violating the ‘dress code.’ I thought this was America.”
She was certainly violating the dress code of anywhere at the moment unless it was a street corner full of prostitutes. “You dress to draw attention, so is it fair of you to be angry if you do draw attention?”
“Not to draw attention from that perv.”
“Has he ever said or done anything inappropriate to you?” Georgia went on full alert mode. “Think over the answer very carefully. It isn’t easy to live with it if you unfairly ruin someone’s life with a lie, and I am mandated to report it.”
The girl slumped down. “Well”—it was grudging—“no. I guess not. But he looks. And he calls my dad.”
Cindy was smart, she was just rebellious. There was potential in her case for therapy to really help.
Georgia relaxed. “That’s his job. If he sees you might draw unwanted attention from the wrong people, he would be negligent not to point it out. You should consider listening to him. I’m not saying you have to tell him he’s right, but maybe tone it down a little. Now, let’s move on. Tell me about the cheating.”
“It was kind of reverse cheating, you know.”
“Reverse cheating? Define it for me.”
“I’m good at math. Like really good. I don’t even have to think about it. My friend Matt sucks at it, so I did my test in about five seconds and he passed me his and I did his too. The teacher saw us when I passed it back. Now Matt’s suspended too. I feel really bad.”
It went to high potential for therapy to help at that moment. Offering up how she felt about something that didn’t include resentment was a first.
“You were trying to help a friend, so your intentions were good, but now that you’ve thought it over, do you believe you were really helping? I don’t mean to sound like I’m preaching at you, but Matt won’t get better at math if you do it for him.”
“I know.” Cindy at least tugged down her skirt. It needed to be at least three inches longer, if not more. Georgia knew what color of underwear she was wearing. “He’s really nice and math is hard for him. His parents are way harsh, man. Like, he doesn’t have his phone or Internet now because they took it away until he’s back in school. He can’t even watch TV.”
“What did your parents do?”
“Nothing, really. Made me sit down so they could lecture me for about the most boring hour of my life. My father wants me to be an engineer like him. They just want me
to graduate and get into a decent university.”
“Did they take anything away from you?”
“Well … no.”
“How does that make you feel about your parents?”
She shrugged. “They are cooler than Matt’s parents, anyway.”
“Does it make you feel they love you less than his parents love him?”
“I think mine love me more than his love him. At least they just had to talk about it until I wanted to pass out. His parents were assholes.”
That was real progress right there. Cindy had arrived for her first session hostile and hating her parents, and not feeling very generous toward Georgia either. Even the slightest of concessions was better.
When their time was over, Georgia contemplated calling Carl but then decided against it.
As it happened, he called her. “I was thinking about tonight. Are you free?”
“I’m quite expensive.”
“If you thought that was brilliant, Dr. Lukens, try again.”
She had to smile. “I’m not busy this evening, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I have a yacht of sorts. Want to go for a sail?”
Of sorts? Either a person had a yacht or they didn’t. “I will be the worst first mate ever as I’ve never done anything like that. I can row a boat, but I learned that at summer camp what seems like a million years ago. That’s about it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I rent out the boat, so the usual captain will take us. It sounds quite upper crust, but don’t count on me not spilling champagne on my pants. We’ll eat dinner on the water. Someone caters the cruises.”
“Champagne and dinner on a yacht? I do that every night. I’m bored already. Count me in.”
“I’m trying to impress you.”
“You already have. I think you did twice the other night.”
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