Charred (31 page)

Her contact was easy to spot, sitting by himself and chatting with a waitress who looked about fifteen and could have been his granddaughter, and she found out when she introduced herself and sat down, she actually was. Mr. Raylan was in his midseventies, wearing a flannel shirt even in the heat, but still handsome in a weathered way she liked, gray-haired, his face all character and lines.

“Sophie is in high school,” he told her proudly. “She wants to go to college and study English. Can you imagine that?”

“I can actually,” Ellie said noncommittally. “I started out as an English major before I switched to criminal justice. You should encourage her.”

“You said on the phone you were with the Milwaukee police.” Mr. Raylan frowned, his silver eyebrows drawing together. “And I’ve been sitting here trying to think why you would want to meet with me. You’re a little far out of the city, Detective.”

“We are investigating a case that might have ties back here. As a matter of fact, ties to the farm you own that used to belong to the McNeely family. I wanted to get your permission for us to go out there and look around.”

“I see.”

He didn’t, but he didn’t have to. All he had to do was give her the information she needed and permission to take a walk around.

Sophie arrived at that moment with two cups of coffee and two pieces of pie. She was blond and cheerful, and said, “Here you go, Gramps. Ma’am.”

“This lady is a detective, Sophie.”

“Oh.” Sophie looked like she wasn’t sure what to say, but a new group came in and she nodded and hurried off to grab some plastic-covered menus.

“I ordered apple,” Mr. Raylan said without apology. “Hope you don’t mind, but I told Sophie to bring it out as soon as you arrived. It’s the best here and I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like apple pie. Tell me you aren’t one of those girls who worry about every single bite they take.”

Ellie was more than happy, she was in heaven. The pretzels hadn’t really done the job. There was ice cream too, in a melting, gooey glob, the scent of cinnamon seductive. “No, sir, and thank you. It looks delicious.”

She picked up her fork and prompted him. “The McNeely farm?”

“Yes, I bought it years ago. After the fire.” He took a large bite and chewed and swallowed before he went on. “The house was gone but the barn was still decent at the time. I’m afraid I’m not sure why you want to look at it.”

“I’m interested in Randy McNeely.”

“The boy?”

“The boy. Only he’s a man now.” The pie was delicious … and she was famished.

“Sure is, I’d guess. Time goes by pretty fast these days. He was nine or ten maybe when the place burned?” Mr. Raylan took a sip of coffee. “I got the property in an estate sale. It was still mortgaged and the bank just wanted to be rid of it. The house was gone, but that didn’t matter to me. I just wanted the land, that’s all. I farm a little, but mostly it’s livestock.”

“After the fire, you took care of their dairy cattle.”

“Of course I did.” Pale blue eyes regarded her across the uneven table. “Neighbors do that for each other.”

At that point, he no longer had those neighbors, but she didn’t point it out. This lead might easily take her nowhere.

But the pie was absolutely worth it. Rich, sweet, and delectably perfect. “Anything you can tell me might be helpful. What about Randy? Didn’t he go to his grandmother?”

“Sure did.” Mr. Raylan looked introspective. “But Beatrice died of a heart attack and he was then shuffled off into the hands of the government. He turned out good, though. He stops by now and then and I’ve told him he can visit the property whenever he wants. I can’t blame him for wanting to come here and keep connected with the past. I might do the same, in his shoes. Did you know he’s a doctor now? That’s something, considering his disadvantages.”

The rattle of dishes and conversation around them all faded away. Even the pie lost its glory. Ellie said carefully, “You’ve seen him recently?”

Her companion looked contemplative. “Recently? I don’t know. I noticed some fresh tire tracks in the lane yesterday and I assumed it was either him or those darned teenagers who go there to park now and again.”

She set aside her fork. “Where does he live, do you know?”

“Down your way. In the city. He’s never said exactly where.”

“And he’s a doctor?”

“Said he is.”

Ellie could feel her heart racing. “Are you sure? Can you tell me his last name? We know at some point he was adopted.”

“Detective, you might even know him.” The old man gave her a glimmering smile.

That was about the last thing she expected to hear. “Why would I know him?”

“His name is Reubens now. Dr. Reubens. I think he works for the police in some way, or that is what he told me. He was off working at some hospital somewhere else or some such thing that is required after medical school and he just moved back to Wisconsin not that long ago. Looks at dead bodies from what I understand.”

Reubens. It all started to click into place, the domino effect causing her brain to race, jumbled thoughts one after the other … the autopsies, on his own victims? The bone saw used to cut up the victim down in Greendale, the little boy who had a fascination with fire and dead bodies …

She’d broken out in a sweat that had nothing to do with the heat outside. “Thank you,” she said in a rush. “Thank you, Mr. Raylan. The pie is on me. You’ve been more than helpful.”

Ellie pulled a bill out of her pocket, set it on the table, and stood. “Give Sophie a nice tip.”

“You haven’t even finished your pie. What did I say?”

“I’ll tell you what, maybe we can make a date someday and have another piece and I’ll be able to tell you all about it, but for the moment, I have to go. Can we look at your property?”

He smiled, though he looked a little bewildered. “Help yourself. And I’ll take that date, Detective.”

*   *   *

Jason had absolutely
no luck talking to local law enforcement. First of all, the officer on duty was a middle-aged woman who was completely immune to his most ingratiating smile because he was pretty sure her preferences were on the other side of the fence. She might have loved Ellie. They should have switched places.

At any rate, he got nowhere asking about the McNeelys’ deaths because she really wasn’t willing to waste her time on it, whether or not he was with MPD.

“That was over twenty years ago. You can requisition the accidental death report, but not now.” She looked pointedly out the window at the growing dusk. “This is not Milwaukee. I’m pretty much on my own and don’t have time to sift through boxes and boxes to get what you’re looking for, Detective.”

He bit back a caustic response. Well, sort of. “I apologize, but I’m on a time line here and actually in the crime-solving business. When can we have it?”

She folded her hands on the desk and looked smug. “Can’t say, as I am currently working night shifts and I won’t be the one looking it up.”

He wasn’t positive what he might have said at that point but his cell rang and he turned around and pushed a button.

Ellie said in an almost unrecognizable voice. “You aren’t going to believe this. Meet me at the car.”

*   *   *

The road was
rutted, the sounds of cicadas loud, and she had no doubt that even though he didn’t show it, her partner was suffering every single rut more than his classic car.

She said coolly, “What are we doing? We need to go back to Milwaukee and talk to Metzger. This is sensitive. We still have nothing but hearsay and conjecture.”

“Let’s see, Ellie: he’s from here, his parents died in a house fire, we can connect the table to it, he expertly dismembered a corpse, and the guy has a past—before he changed his name—of an obsession with dead bodies and is now a medical examiner. He’s killing them somewhere else. He told us that himself. I’m wondering if it isn’t right here where he started.”

He had a point. She’d wondered about it, but who knew? It was all too bizarre.

Ellie looked out the window, examined the starlit countryside, and saw the lightning bugs in the fields flash as they drove slowly along the rutted lane. The leaves were thick but wilted in the heat, and the wire fence broken in many places. It smelled like dried fields of corn and old manure. “It can’t be true.”

“Like fucking hell it’s not. Reubens. Motherfuck. I’m not sure I do either.” His voice was rough and uneven. “He’s been here recently, right? Didn’t your farmer guy say the lane had tire tracks?”

“He did. I don’t know if we should even be driving up here. What if they could cast and match the tires?”

Santiago didn’t look over. “Too dry for anything good.” His voice changed. “You always get an impression about what someone is like when you meet them, right? I’m pretty pissed off when I think about those reports I spent so much time reading. Who knows if there’s a shred of truth in any of them.”

Good point.

The car hit a particularly rough rut and she caught the door handle.

He had a decidedly more visceral approach to law enforcement in general, but maybe he was right. “I listen to my gut reaction, but I don’t operate on it like you do twenty-four/seven,” she admitted, maybe a little grudgingly.

This entire evening had her jumpy. “What exactly do you think we’ll find out here? He’s not going to leave evidence.”

“I don’t know.” Jason carefully guided the car over a series of bumps and openly winced. “Shit maybe we should have brought your car. He cut up that body somewhere. I’m sorry, but that isn’t easy to do and leave no trace. My guess is right here.”

“So you can now think like a serial killer?” But she did have to wonder if he wasn’t right. It was secluded, deserted, and obviously there was no reason for Mr. Raylan to come over very often since the house was gone …

“You really think I’m that complicated?”

“You don’t want me to answer that question.”

His sidelong glance was swift and her partner gave a sardonic laugh. “True enough, but I’m just trying to believe this. I need to feel it, you know?”

What
she
was feeling, along with a similar sense of disbelief, was that this place made a perfect setting for murder. The headlights caught the remnants of an old orchard, overgrown and wild, with vines through the trees, and some animal was in the underbrush by the lane, the gleam of eyes visible briefly before it vanished. There was the ghost of a fence with gnarled wire and missing posts, taken over by morning glories and poison ivy, the evidence of human habitation slowly being swallowed up by nature unsettling, and she was unsettled enough.

It felt … haunted. Maybe not in a literal sense, but by the past.

“We aren’t going to be able to tell much, it’s getting so dark,” Ellie pointed out, suddenly uneasy. The evening was oppressive, the breeze rustling the leaves in an eerie hint of motion. “Tell me you have a flashlight.”

“Glove box.”

Jason parked the car by what must have been a shed for farm implements or seed. There was the old barn, half collapsed about a hundred yards away, bleached to a weathered gray.

He got out his phone and slid a finger across the front pad. “I’m just going to fill Grasso in. If he thinks we should go ahead and tell Metzger now, we will on our way back to Milwaukee. At the moment all we’re doing is following a lead. But if we investigate our own medical examiner and we’re wrong, there goes my job, and it isn’t going to do you any favors either. I admit the evidence is starting to come into line, but we still have nothing more than Hamilton’s hunch about him as a kid.”

She took out the flashlight and was grateful it flashed on at the touch of a button. “Okay, a third opinion won’t hurt I guess. Either way this swings, Metzger isn’t going to be happy. I wouldn’t even dream of questioning Reubens without concrete physical evidence linking him to one of the crimes.”

Ellie opened her door and slipped out, standing facing west, her face into the breeze. She could hear her partner talking but her attention was entirely elsewhere suddenly. It felt like the world went eerily silent. “What is that?”

He ended the call and got out. “He’s going to—”

“Santiago,” she interrupted, her voice a low hiss. “That.” She pointed again at a jolt of color between the trees, the scent sharp in her nostrils, the hair on her arms lifting. “Do you smell smoke? I know I do.”

“I see it.” He let his car door drift closed, his hand measuring the movement, keeping it from slamming, obviously still thinking, still reacting.

Good for him. She was fairly sure she about stopped breathing.

The insects were loud in the trees and the humidity made her shirt cling to her body. She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think we have a fire. I can even see the occasional flare of the flames.”

“Ah, shit. I’m sick of that smell. I think I’ve been shifted into an alternate reality. Damn, Ellie, this world is one fucking strange place.” Santiago took out his gun and checked the clip. “He might be here and we know he has a gun. I’ll go first.”

She peered through the trees, wishing the dark wasn’t descending so quickly, but the country was like this. No lights, and once that sun went down, it was over. “I don’t see a car.”

“Maybe he’s already gone.”

She’d taken out her weapon also and began to walk cautiously. “You willing to bank on that?”

True to character, he said, “Fuck no.”

Chapter 27

I
figured if it was going to be, it just was, and I think since I was a child, I have always felt a fatalistic sense of resignation. A pragmatic approach to be sure, but I was born with that gene that has allowed me to adapt to different circumstances.

I didn’t always like the changes, obviously, but I always adapted.

I’d killed her the day before. I really didn’t prefer that, but this wasn’t negotiable and logistics being what they were, I also switched venues.

That was no problem. Somehow it seemed fitting that it should end here where it started when I thought it over.

Marjorie had been my first encounter with The System. Well-meaning, smiling, and utterly unaware of how much I despised her, hated the interference, and laughed cynically at the assurances that everything was going to be just fine.