Finely Ground

by Jennifer Templeman

  “You’re going to talk to her again, then?” he asked, turning to face the machine once more. Despite the fact that it looked like he was busy, the lack of noise made Ellie think he was pretending to work while waiting for an answer.

  “She’s completely nuts,” Ellie partly mumbled, “but I don’t see any harm in it.”

  “You might like it,” Joe added, finally bringing the machine in front of him to life.

  “Maybe,” Ellie said, unconvinced, “or she’ll point out that I’m actually crazy and try to have me committed.”

  “You’re no worse off than the rest of us who have survived some hard stuff,” Joe countered, turning around enough that Ellie could see the seriousness on his face. “Besides, being a little off normal makes you a lot more interesting.”

  Before she could build up much steam about his comment, Joe presented one of his signature coffee drinks in an extra-large white mug. It was hard to stay mad at the man when he was giving her the thing she most wanted at the moment.

  “One day I hope you’ll look at me like you do my coffee,” Joe teased.

  Ellie kept her eyes on the swirled pattern the cream was making against the rich brew underneath. If going in early to see Mack would help her to respond when Joe said things like that, then it would be time well spent.

  Before the silence dragged on too long, there were three fast knocks at the office door as the only warning before a man in a suit appeared.

  “Garrett,” Joe greeted him, less warmly than usual.

  “I used to be your favorite cousin.”

  “That was before I moved back home and realized not all of my family was nuts,” Joe countered, getting up from his seat next to Ellie as though he were reluctant to leave the close space they’d been sharing.

  No sooner had Joe stood than his cousin took his place and nudged Ellie with his knee. “Ellie’s happy to see me, at least.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that, Phillips,” Ellie returned, trying to hide her smile behind her mug.

  “You really know how to wound a man…”

  “I’m going to show you how to wound a man if you don’t get out of my spot,” Joe spoke as he carried over a much smaller cup than the one he’d made for Ellie.

  With some very audible grumbling, Phillips managed to hoist himself and move to the opposing love seat so that Joe could take his place back at Ellie’s side.

  The clock on the wall ticked several times before Joe spoke up. “You going home?”

  “Yeah, I just came by to see if Ellie wanted an escort other than you.”

  “I don’t need an escort,” Ellie asserted, realizing they were trying to settle who was going to be her bodyguard when she arrived home.

  Both of the men looked at her, their faces devoid of any emotion, challenging her statement.

  Barely managing to refrain from rolling her eyes, Ellie set her drink down so her hands would be free to gesture enough to reinforce her point. “I’m not some helpless damsel who needs to be hovered over. Even if I were in danger—which I’m not—I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself!”

  “It’s just that there hasn’t been any sign of the doctor since you left California,” Joe began, rehashing the details they were all familiar with.

  One month before, as Ellie helped to catch a serial killer, the killer’s brother had disappeared. Because he was suspected to be her accomplice, the FBI couldn’t completely close the case until he was captured. And since Ellie was responsible for the death of his only living relative, many people assumed the doctor might set his sights on Ellie for revenge. The fact that there had been no proof of his whereabouts in such a long time had Ellie convinced he had fled the country to escape arrest, but the Phillips men surrounding her now were equally convinced he was nearby, just waiting for a moment, when Ellie was isolated and unprotected, to make a move.

  Ellie repeated the same argument she used any time this topic came up. “The fact that he hasn’t been seen just adds more evidence to my theory that he’s not here.”

  Joe turned to better face her, but before he could speak, Phillips interrupted. “Don’t piss her off, because I’m starving and I know she left something cooking for dinner, and if she’d mad, she’s much less likely to let me share it with her.”

  “What makes you think I was going to give you dinner?” Ellie asked, amazed at his lack of proper protocol in waiting for an invitation. “Maybe I made it so I could invite Joe over?”

  Joe’s head snapped back in Ellie’s direction, letting her know that in her need to get the upper hand with her neighbor, she might have inadvertently invited the man next to her. She certainly wasn’t opposed to it, but she hadn’t been that direct in declaring what she wanted before either.

  “He can’t come; he’s working late tonight,” Phillips said, jumpstarting the conversation once more.

  Ellie chanced a glance in Joe’s direction and saw him glaring at his cousin. When he looked back at her, his face lost the irritation and he smiled. “I wish I could come over, but he’s right. I’m stuck locking up tonight, so I’ll be here awhile.”

  After another twenty minutes of conversation, the young girl who seemed to be ever present at the counter, dressed in all black and carefully accented with a bold array of piercings, announced it was starting to get crowded on the floor, which was Joe’s cue to excuse himself and get back to work.

  “Come on,” Phillips prompted. “I’m beat and could use one of your meals before calling it a night.”

  He did look tired, which was how Ellie justified not arguing the point any further. “Fine, you can eat, but you’re going to help wash the dishes too.”

  ****

  When they arrived at their apartment complex, Ellie let Phillips lead the way from the parking lot to their building. At the base of the staircase, there was a colored piece of fabric tied to the handrail. Upon closer examination, Ellie realized it was her silk wrap that she’d lost a few weeks earlier when she attended a singer-songwriter showcase in the park. It had been a cool day, and she’d taken it in case she needed a little warmth, but she’d managed to lose it, not noticing until later.

  “Wait,” she called out as she attempted to loosen the knot. “This is my wrap.”

  “Why is it here?” Phillips asked. If possible, he puffed up a little bigger and reached his hand to the back of his hip, where Ellie knew his holster rested.

  “Relax. It must have fallen out of my bag here and somebody just tied it to the railing, not knowing who it belonged to,” Ellie explained.

  He seemed to accept that until something hit the ground when the scarf was pulled free.

  Before Ellie could pick it up, Phillips had already grabbed it and appeared to be concentrating on whatever words the paper contained. His expression shifted rapidly from curious to furious before he reached again for his sidearm while gesturing for her to move. “We need to get you inside.”

  She allowed him to guide her up the stairs and to her apartment before demanding, “Give me the note.”

  The moment she took the paper, he moved to stand between her and the door and began typing furiously on his cell phone.

  Family is an important thing, wouldn’t you agree? You should keep yours close to you because you never know what might happen.

  The note wasn’t signed, but Ellie knew who it was from. Despite her best attempts to convince everyone that she was in no danger from Dr. Garrison, she knew he’d had her scarf and he’d left this note.

  She read the words over and over. She had virtually no family, so it was hard to imagine who he might be threatening. Her mother, Janice, was nearby, and Ellie tried not to think about how her mother would respond to the news that she had been threatened by a madman. She’d probably try to use this as leverage to convince Ellie to change jobs.

  “Phil is putting agents in the parking lot overnight and wants you to be ready to discuss this in the morning,” Phillips announced, pulling her from the scenario of shrieking Ellie
was imagining when she conveyed this new development to Janice.

  “I’m surprised he isn’t stationing one in the apartment while I sleep,” she bit back bitterly.

  The fact that Phillips’s face reddened slightly let her know that he was planning on staying over. “I told him I’d be here so he didn’t need to bring in somebody you don’t know.”

  “No,” Ellie argued. “I appreciate the gesture, but there is no reason for you to pretend to sleep on my couch.”

  “You were just threatened,” Phillips reminded her. “You should count yourself lucky Phil didn’t bring you to a protected location but let you stay here instead.”

  “I’m not feeling lucky at the moment.”

  He nodded his understanding. “I get that.” When he began slinging off his jacket and loosening his tie, Ellie knew there was no getting rid of her pushy neighbor tonight. He was usually good about respecting her space, but since he had apparently decided she was in danger, there was no way she could convince him to leave now.

  “Come on.” She motioned to the kitchen, knowing he’d follow her. “We may as well have some dinner since there’s not much more we can do on this tonight.

  ****

  The next morning, Ellie got up at her normal time, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and stretched in preparation for her run. Every day began the same way, and it wasn’t until she stepped into the den to see her yoga mat unrolled and Phillips standing there, still in the now wrinkled dress shirt and slacks he’d been wearing the night before, that she realized he was trying to block her from running.

  “We’re not having this conversation,” she warned him, not bothering to be polite.

  His eyes cut to the door, and he crossed his arms.

  “I’ve been running every day for weeks and he hasn’t made a move. There’s no reason to believe that just because we got a note tied in a scarf that I’m suddenly in danger.”

  Phillips’s eyes moved from her face down to the mat and back up.

  Ellie moved toward the door, not wanting to argue. Before she could get her hand on the knob, Phillips was there, blocking her way. “If you won’t stay in because I suggested it, then do it because Phil will blow a gasket and his blood pressure is high enough already.”

  “Oh please. By the time he hears about it, I’ll already be in the office,” she argued.

  Phillips raised only one eyebrow, as though arguing with her assumption. “He’ll hear about it as soon as I call his cell phone like I was commanded to do when the door to your apartment opens.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter!’ she all but yelled in response.

  “No, you don’t need one, but I think we both know you’ve got one anyway.” He uncrossed his arms and softened his voice to add, “Come on, Ellie. I know you want to be tough and independent, but none of us want to see you get hurt, and if something as simple as having a ride to work would keep you safer, or help us feel like we’ve done something good, then why would you fight that?”

  She wanted to throw him out and yell about him trying to use emotional blackmail to get her to accept the sudden loss of privacy. But down deep, she knew this was bad and he was probably right, so she had to settle for pointing her finger in his direction and decreeing, “Fine, but we’re going to stop by Joe’s for coffee, so you better be ready in time for us to get there before the morning rush.”

  “I’ll even buy,” Phillips promised, making it impossible to stay angry with him.

  Chapter 3

  There was little to recommend Ellie’s office. It was in the basement and had no natural light. The walls were scuffed, and the ceiling tiles were a faded shade of gray that made them appear dirty instead of old. Little noise came from her coworkers, aside from the occasional sound of a printer being refilled. Despite this, it was one of her favorite places. Something about it made her mind settle, and she found that coming to work had a relaxing effect on her.

  After confirming that her office had been untouched overnight, she hung her blazer on the back of her chair, locked her gun in the safe in her drawer, and began sorting through her e-mail. Most were follow-ups from notes she’d sent out the previous day, and after an hour, she was down to one final note from the section chief, Miller.

  Michaels – I’d like you to take a look at this case as a favor to me. My nephew is leading the investigation, and so far they don’t have anything to go off of. I know it’s not your area of expertise, but maybe you’ll see something they missed.

  She read and reread the note several times, trying to figure out why he’d given this to her. It was either a compliment that Miller wanted her to help his nephew, or it was busy work to keep her occupied, since she couldn’t exactly refuse.

  Realizing she still had some time before the desk-review department got busy, she decided to see exactly what Miller had passed along. The file was from George Miller, who was an agent in the Major-Theft Division. Apparently multiple trucking companies had reported stolen payloads from cross-country transports. More than one company had been hit, and the payloads taken were seemingly random enough that they couldn’t pinpoint the thief as being after a specific product.

  There were four media files, but they each showed the trucks parked in a well-lit portion of a truck stop, not being approached. At the end of the video, the driver unlocked the cab and drove away.

  According to the manifests, only part of the cargo was taken, leaving most intact—enough to convince the trucker that his truck was in the same condition after stopping that it had been in before. It wasn’t until arriving at the final destination that the truck was deemed to be missing part of its original load.

  None of the drivers were related. Two were in the same union, but the others were not. Neither the shipping companies themselves, nor the vendors hiring them to transport their goods, seemed to be related in any way. When Miller said they didn’t have anything to go off of, he wasn’t exaggerating.

  With that, Ellie pulled up the first video again and watched for the full seven minutes. On the second playing, she noticed an empty Coke bottle roll by near the beginning of the footage. It was easy to miss, as it only entered the bottom inch of the screen and then was blown out of the camera angle rather quickly. Just before the driver came back, there was a smudge in the same place in the frame. Ellie paused the film and verified her monitor wasn’t dirty. The parking lot was a faded asphalt that had been lightened from sun exposure and salt, but faintly on top of the pavement was a small white mark that had not been there seconds before. It was faint, more like a watermark than a real element in the film, but as she stared at it, Ellie thought it resembled the white wave that was part of the Coke logo. Resuming play, the light mark stayed visible until the truck left the screen. Curious if it was a fluke, she pulled up the next video and watched it as well. At second ninety-two, she sat up straighter when she noticed an empty bottle roll through the screen. Fast-forwarding to just before the driver returned, she noticed the same faint wave appeared once more.

  Confirming it wasn’t an accident, she watched the remaining two videos and was not surprised to see the bottles roll through at the exact same point as they had on the first ones. Near the end of the footage, the ghosted wave appeared as well.

  Realizing it wasn’t anything significant to go off, she still felt compelled to send it along, so she quickly added notes to the case file and then sent an e-mail to Miller, copying his nephew to let them know she would keep searching but that at the very least, he should be sure to have someone in tech look at the video, because it was identical footage except for the truck, so it had been doctored in some way, indicating the mastermind behind this had, at a minimum, a talented video editor working with them.

  Just as she sent it off, she heard the sound of a rubber-tipped cane hitting the tile of the floor, indicating her boss was on his way to her office.

  Before he could say good morning, Ellie jumped in. “Call them off.”

  “Who?”

  �
�The team you’ve assigned to shadow me,” she clarified. “I’ll take extra precautions, I’ll keep you informed of my whereabouts, and I’ll try to stay inside a little more. But I don’t want every moment of my life watched. It’s a waste of funds, and it’s…irritating.”

  “I’m not asking you to do it.” Phil didn’t seem ready to let this go. “If anybody has the right to be irritated, it should be the agents assigned to protect you—especially since you don’t seem to have the good sense to appreciate their presence. And since they know better than to question an order like this one, you shouldn’t complain about it either.”

  “That makes no sense,” Ellie countered. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Yes, you are, but we’d like to have someone else nearby in case the nut job shows up. The agents on the scene can handle him, and you can take care of yourself.”

  “Are you really not going to pull the detail?” She could see the answer on his face but still felt the need to try one final time.

  He twirled the cane around slowly, as though the movement helped him think. Ellie couldn’t help but notice the stick was decorated with various road signs, mostly in red, orange, and yellow.

  Instead of speaking directly to her question, he changed tactics completely. “Lab called and confirmed the letter you got last night was covered in prints belonging to Garrison.”

  “He didn’t bother to cover up his identity?” That seemed odd to Ellie, since he had all but disappeared after his sister’s death. Clearly he knew how to avoid being recognized, so he must have wanted people to know the message was from him.

  “Didn’t bother to cover it up, and if anything, he seemed to be bragging about it, because he had a full palm print right in the middle of the page—every finger perfectly preserved, like he put lotion on first to be sure there were enough oils to make it clear it was from him.”

  “Why would he bother to blow his whereabouts now?” Ellie wondered aloud.