Free Buried (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) by Kate Watterson Page B

negotiated a turn toward the freeway exit. This time on a Saturday morning the roads were at least quiet.
    “The single time I met him he did ask about my intentions.”
    “Old-fashioned.” That sounded exactly like the pragmatic man she knew.
    “Your father is gone. He’s protective. He feels it is his role.”
    “This stupid male tendency toward—”
    “Ellie,” Bryce interrupted on a low laugh, but his dark eyes held a serious glint. “You aren’t a homicide detective to him. You are his granddaughter and he cares. I suppose it might be best if I knew what to say.”
    As much as she’d wanted and yet dreaded this conversation, she knew she was never going to feel the timing was exactly right. The ramp was clear and she gunned the car so they slid onto the freeway right at the speed limit. “What do you want to say?”
    “To marriage or babies?”
    “Come on, Bryce, have mercy. Let’s approach this one hurdle at a time.”
    “Our role reversal never fails to astound me.” He flipped open his cup and then shut it without taking a drink. Then he looked her with disconcerting directness. “Fine. I’ll start with the foremost question on my mind. Small steps. What are you going to do about your lease? We aren’t talking about it. Why? Each time I want to bring it up, I feel like you just don’t want me to ask. If I’m not reading the signals correctly, tell me so.”
    And she’d wondered if he had been paying attention. She should have known better. A few puffy clouds haunted the horizon and she stared at them. “The real question, please.”
    “Do you want to move in? Live together all the time, night and day, and give this relationship a real shot, not the half-time wavering from one camp to the other?”
    “My condo isn’t camping.” She immediately raised a hand in apology. “Fine, yes, sorry, I know we aren’t joking. I think I’ve been waiting for you to say that is what you want.”
    “Even when you know it is exactly what I want.” He theatrically checked his watch. “You were there not even an hour ago when I made love to you, correct?”
    Her shoulders lifted just a little because he had a point. “Bryce, I needed to hear it. Besides, can I correct you? I think we made love together.”
    “You wanted to hear me ask? A clue to that would have been helpful. All right.” He nodded, his long legs outstretched, his expression about as neutral as possible. “Detective MacIntosh, will you please move in with me?”
    That was definitive enough.
    But it required an answer. She responded tentatively, “I am thinking we should try it.”
    “Okay. I agree. Is that a yes?”
    “And you should tell my grandfather that we are seriously dating, but nothing about the new living arrangements.”
    “I agree with that, too. Is it a yes?”
    It was just plain time to change the subject. “Santiago is going to help me sift through all the missing-person reports, but my first stop today is the medical examiner’s office.”
    He let her get away with the evasion. “Open on Saturday?”
    “Someone is always available,” she said as they passed the first exit for Oshkosh. “There’s a deputy examiner or a tech always on call. Believe it or not, death has its own agenda.”
    “That’s a lovely poetic observation.”
    “That is the reality. We aren’t all writers, Bryce. I wasn’t trying to be poetic.”
    “Maybe so, but since this isn’t actually something you are assigned to investigate, can you do this?” His gaze was inquiring.
    It was probably skirting the edge of protocol, but then again, so was Metzger’s request for her and Grasso to poke around the department with regard to the two killings.
    Ellie stared at the road and then equivocated. “There is no rule to say I can’t go talk to my grandfather again about that grave.”
    “No.” Bryce sounded as reasonable as always. “But obviously that is not all we are doing unless he is at the medical examiner’s office.”
    Good