He looked at the door, no doubt worried about what he might find inside.
I left and went back to the motel parking lot. The Cadillac was still there—one of only a half dozen other vehicles. The new ownership had renovated the place, but they hadn’t yet reinvented it as a safe or welcoming place to stay. I wasn’t sure they’d ever succeed, given the reputation it had and the part of town it was in. I made notes about the makes, models, and license plate numbers of all the cars and left. As I drove, I called the tip line.
_______________
My plan had been to return to my motel room. My day had started unnecessarily early, and it was now nearing midnight. But I knew I wasn’t going to have any luck trying to sleep. My last dream and the experience of nearly shooting Ellmann that morning were still too fresh. So, I hit the gym.
Besides the guy at the front desk, who was watching videos on his iPhone, I was the only one there. I eyed the elliptical but decided I was too tired for that. And anyway, my lower half was still sore from my last visit. So I hit the weights instead. To say I had no idea what I was doing was an understatement. But I followed the charts and tried to work both my upper and lower body, front and back muscle groups. After about forty-five minutes, the fatigued, sore feeling was equally distributed throughout my body, so I called it a night.
I went back to my motel room and made another phone call, this time to order pizza. I showered while I waited for the delivery guy, then I ate while watching reruns of House. I deliberately chose to ignore how the pizza might negatively affect any progress I’d made at the gym.
House was in the middle of an argument with a new board member when there was a knock at my door. I snatched up the gun and crossed slowly to the door. I braved a peek through the peephole and saw Ellmann standing outside.
Who else could it be? He was the only one who knew where I was. At least I hoped that was true.
I opened the door and looked out at him. He was standing with his hands on his hips looking as pissed as I’d ever seen him. Again, not saying much since I’d only known him a week.
“Tell me you didn’t,” he said, his voice tight.
“Okay, I didn’t.”
He sighed and dragged a hand back through his hair. “But you did, didn’t you?”
“It would help if I knew what we were talking about; I could participate more in this conversation.”
“A buddy of mine called and said there was another message about Tyler Jay’s whereabouts. He said the same girl left both messages. That would be you. But you probably didn’t just happen to walk past him while shopping at the mall.”
“Well, how likely is that? First, I don’t spend my free time shopping, mostly because I can’t afford it anymore. And second, if I did, I wouldn’t go to the mall. Not our mall, anyway. It’s pretty sorry these days.”
“Whatever,” he said. “The point is, you went looking for him. I told you he’s a bad guy. It’s possible he’s connected to Stacy Karnes’s murder and the two attempts on your life. But you went after him anyway. What were you thinking?”
My temper started to flare.
“I was thinking I was more than a little pissed the police didn’t catch him the first time I found him, especially since it could be him that’s trying to kill me. I knew exactly how to find him and had the time to do it. Did you guys catch him?”
He shifted on his feet and his expression changed. No. The answer was a big, fat no.
“We sent guys to the motel, but the room was empty when we got there. The manager let us in, and the room had obviously been lived in, but he was gone.”
“Are you kidding me?”
I turned away from the door, leaving it open, my leg brushing past the Cushman parked in its spot beside the door. I went to the bedside table to put the gun down. Frustration was boiling up in me, and I thought it best not to be armed.
Ellmann followed me in and closed the door.
“How hard is it to catch this guy?” I asked, venting now. “Why is it you guys can’t even find him? It’s not that hard. I’ve done it twice. He’s supposedly wanted, but no one’s really putting any effort into catching him. Obviously calling the tip line is a huge waste of time because no one listens to it. You know, there really should be a live person answering those calls. That way someone can send people out right away, you know, before the bad guy gets away. Again.”
Ellmann sank down into a chair at the table and listened to my tirade. He snatched a piece of pizza, eating it while bobbing his head at appropriate times.
“I understand you’re upset,” he began.
“Oh, don’t use that psychobabble cop-talk stuff on me,” I snapped. “This is ridiculous. Tyler Jay is the most wanted man in Larimer County. I’ve reported his location twice, and he’s still wandering around free as a bird. Free to do as he pleases, which might very well include killing me. Why isn’t anyone taking this seriously? What’s it going to take?”
He’d finished off his piece of pizza.
“I would tell you not to go after Tyler again,” he began, “but it’d be like telling a bear not to shit in the woods: pointless. So, instead I’m going to advise you to be careful. Even if Tyler Jay isn’t the one shooting at you, he’s very dangerous. He’s killed a lot of people, most of them just for fun.”
I scoffed and threw my arms up. “What the hell good would it do? It would be a waste of everyone’s time. If I find him again, I’ll have to catch him myself.”
At that statement, real fear flashed in his eyes.
“Call me.”
“What?”
“If you find him again, call me. You know that’ll be faster than leaving a message.”
The last little bit of fight rushed out of me, and I dropped into the chair across from Ellmann. When he reached into the pizza box for a second piece, I snatched another for myself. We sat in silence eating our pizza with House playing in the background.
“How long are you going to stay here?”
I shrugged. “How long is my house going to be a crime scene?”
“We’ll probably release it at the end of the week.”
“Great, I’ll be able to get my stuff. I know the management company is anxious to get the place cleaned up and another renter in.”
“I’m going to tell the boys not to bother with cleanup. Let them take care of it. Seems fair after kicking you out.”
“I’ll just end up paying for it. She’s going to take the cleanup costs out of my deposit. I probably won’t get back half of what I put down.”
The look at that news was anger.
Ellmann’s hard to read because he’s been a cop so long. He’s had a lot of practice hiding his real thoughts and feelings. But I was beginning to understand that Ellmann’s a passionate person and feels things in extremes. So, if he let his guard down, even for few seconds, it wasn’t hard to see the emotions burning in him. And he seemed to let his guard down a lot around me.
“You didn’t tell me that part,” he said. The cop-face was back in place.
I shrugged and took another bite. What difference would it have made? I was still out a lot of money, whether he knew about it or not.
“Did you explain things to the lady?”
I nodded. “The discussion turned into an argument, which deteriorated into a fight. She called me some names, and then I left. I was thinking I might take another crack at her. I had pretty good luck with my former mechanic this morning.”
He looked at me.
“What happened with the mechanic?”
“I explained the situation to him, and he kindly refunded all of my money.” And then some.
“Just like that?” He didn’t believe me for a second. I liked that as much as I hated it.
“Pretty much. After he understood the facts, he was quite reasonable.”
“And I suppose you’ve sworn Manny to secrecy.”
“You wouldn’t check up on me, would you?”
“In a heartbeat.”
<
br /> “Fine. Go ahead and try. Manny knows what happened to Krupp. He should be able to imagine what will happen to him if he spills.”
Ellmann looked worried. “Is this Krupp guy . . . still alive?”
“Oh, please. Of course he is. He’s just a little unhappier, a few thousand dollars poorer, and in need of a new gun, that’s all. Oh, plus Manny poached one of his customers. Anyway, I don’t kill more than one person per day. I have my limits.”
“Tomorrow will be a new day. I’d hate for the real estate lady to get killed.”
“Tomorrow is a new day. But killing people isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and it doesn’t really solve your problems.” I sighed. “Let’s not be so cavalier about killing, please. I don’t feel good about what I’ve done.”
I dropped the uneaten portion of my pizza slice onto the lid of the box, my appetite gone.
Ellmann winced slightly then leaned forward, taking my hand in his.
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
I gave a small nod, and he squeezed my hand. Then he leaned back in his chair.
“When are you going to talk to her?” he asked, resuming our conversation.
“Probably in the morning.” I looked up. I could see the wheels turning. Uh-oh. “Why?”
He shrugged then reached for my unfinished slice. “No reason.”
Right.
He raised his eyebrows in silent question, indicating the pizza. I nodded. He took a bite.
“Please stay out of it,” I said. “I can take care of this myself.”
He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and looked at me. “What if I give you twenty-four hours?”
“And after that?”
“Then it will be my turn to have a talk with the lady. What she’s doing is wrong, and that’s sort of my job.”
“She’s a problem for a lawyer and a judge, not a cop.”
“Twenty-four hours. Take it or leave it.”
17
For the first time in days, I slept soundly without interruption. And it had been two days since anyone tried to shoot me. I was feeling pretty good. Maybe things were looking up.
Ellmann was asleep beside me, his breathing slow and regular. I rolled onto my side and watched him. He lay on his back, his head to one side, his feet hanging off the end of the bed. His hair was messy and his face scruffy. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath.
I leaned forward and kissed his shoulder. Then I kissed his collarbone. I pushed myself up and kissed his neck. I could feel his breathing change as he started to wake up. I straddled him and kissed his cheek and his chin. He began to stir. He rolled his head toward me, and his mouth found mine. Then he was fully awake. As the kiss deepened, the rest of him began to wake up.
More than an hour later, we were still in bed, tangled together, hot and sweaty, blissfully unaware of the rest of the world. Ellmann’s phone rang on the table beside his gun and badge. He didn’t seem to hear it. Or, if he did, he had no intention of answering it. A while later we lay together, catching our breath. I had a pleasant, almost numb, sensation throughout my body, and I felt lighter than air.
Ellmann picked up the phone and lay back in bed while he listened to the messages. It sounded like several. I’d only heard the phone ring once, but maybe it had been ringing all morning. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. He hung up.
“I have to go.”
“Sounds like somebody needs you pretty bad.”
“Four messages. Did you hear the phone ring?”
“Just once.”
“Me too.”
“I can be pretty distracting.”
“You have no idea.”
Twenty minutes later, he was showered, dressed, and out the door, a slice of cold pizza in his hand.
I showered, standing under the water for a good long time, enjoying the feeling I was experiencing. As I dressed, I decided it was more a humming feeling than a numb feeling. Either way, I thought it was great.
After grabbing breakfast, I stopped at the shooting range. I’d gone the day before and run through a whole box of ammo, but this was a poor time for slacking off. As if my life depended on it, I purchased another box and shot every last bullet with focus and concentration, because when it came right down to it, my life would depend on it.
Then I headed to Fort Collins Property Management. I felt optimistic about talking to Margaret Fischer. My phone rang as I stopped for a light.
“What’s the real estate lady’s name?” Ellmann asked.
“You said you’d give me twenty-four hours.”
“That was the plan.”
“Was? What’s wrong?”
“The name, Zoe?”
I answered.
He disconnected.
The questions started forming in my mind as I drove to Fischer’s office. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but I guessed it wasn’t good. I also suspected it had something to do with those phone calls he’d been getting all morning. I parked and went inside.
The receptionist looked the same as she had the last time I saw her. She barely glanced up at me from her computer screen when I walked up to her desk.
“Can I help you?”
“You know . . . Jasmine,” I said, reading her nametag. “Your attitude, and Margaret’s . . .”
Suddenly, just like in a cartoon, a light bulb went off inside my head. An idea occurred to me for the first time. I couldn’t help smiling at my epiphany.
Fort Collins Property Management is a small division of a large company I know well. Several years before, I’d made them a great deal of money.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t made the connection before. I still had friends at Colorado Property Management Group; if Fischer couldn’t be reasoned with, I’d call in a favor from one of those highly placed friends and have them help me sort this mess out.
“Is there something I can help you with, or not?” she said sharply, enunciating each word carefully.
“I came to see Margaret. Is she in?”
Even before I’d finished asking the question, I started around the desk toward Fischer’s office door. Jasmine hurried along behind me, going on about how I have no right to just barge in, and how she was going to call the police, and harassment wouldn’t be tolerated, blah, blah, blah. I pushed the door open. The office was dark and empty. No Margaret Fischer anywhere, and no sign she had been in the office today at all.
I backed out and turned on Jasmine.
“Where is she?”
Blah, blah, harassment, blah, blah, blah, police, blah, blah . . .
“Jasmine!” I snapped, getting her attention. “Where is she? Is she coming in today?”
“I don’t know!” she finally spat. “She didn’t come in this morning, and we haven’t heard from her. I can’t reach her. It isn’t like her.”
“Let her know I need to speak to her when she does get in.”
I walked through the front door and out to the sidewalk as Ellmann exited his Charger. He didn’t necessarily look surprised to see me, but he didn’t look happy about it, either. Considering the morning I’d given him, I figured this was about work. What would it have said if it was about me personally?
“What are you doing here?” I asked, walking down the sidewalk toward him.
He was hurrying up to me. He closed his hand around my arm and steered me forward, toward my truck. I’d been headed that way anyway. I didn’t understand why I was being escorted.
“What’s going on?”
“You need to leave. Right now.”
“I’m not going any—”
“Zoe, I need you to trust me,” he said urgently, cutting me off as he pulled open the truck door. “I know you don’t do that well, but I’m begging you. Please, trust me. Get in the truck and drive away right now.”
He shot a look up and down the street, anxiety rolling off him freely.
A sick and twisted part of me wanted nothing more than to stay, just to irk
him, to show him I wasn’t going to be ordered around. The smarter (more functional) part of me simply nodded and climbed behind the wheel. I was turning the corner when I saw a patrol car pull up and park beside the Charger. I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t doubt Ellmann had just saved me a lot of hassle. And I would never admit it out loud, especially not to him, but I was glad I had done as he’d told me.
Whenever I’m glad to have followed someone else’s orders, it only ever means I am in big, big trouble.
_______________
Ellmann said the police had gone to America’s Best Inn and found Tyler Jay’s room empty. I cruised north through town to have a look for myself. I thought it was a long shot, but I needed a place to start, and that seemed as good a place as any. I also wanted to keep my thoughts away from what had happened at Fischer’s office and why Ellmann had sent me away.
I turned into the parking lot and drove around once. As I did, I consulted the notes I’d taken the day before about the cars I’d seen in the parking lot. There were a couple more now, which I added to the list—for what purpose, I didn’t know—and several were missing. I circled the ones that were no longer in the lot and put squares around the ones that were. I drove over to the gas station and parked.
I spotted a homeless-looking man standing at one end of the building, two large bags at his feet. I approached him, and he eyed me warily. Probably people didn’t just walk up to this man.
I reached into my bag and withdrew two fifty-dollar bills.
“Would you be interested in making a hundred bucks?”
More skeptical studying. “What’s the job?”
“Walk over to the Palom—I mean, the Inn, and knock on door 217.”
“That’s it?” He was beyond skeptical.
“That’s it. I need to see who opens the door, without them seeing me.”
“You a cop or something?”
“No, nothing like that. My ex stole a bunch of stuff from me when he took off last week. I’ve heard he’s still in town, but if he catches wind I’m looking for him, he’ll split.”
“He must have made off with something pretty important.”
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