Free Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) by Kate Watterson Page A

together, that’s all. Where that left her … who knew? She certainly didn’t.
    “Good thing you were smart then. Viv and I were kids really when we decided to get married. Eighteen. She got pregnant, and you know, even in this day and age, it does seem like the right thing to do to marry the girl you knocked up.”
    “If you’re a nice guy.” Ellie thought about that discarded shoe, brilliant fall leaves sifting over the ground next to it, and the congealing pool of blood. She added with somber conviction, “I’m afraid there are some out there who aren’t nice at all.”

 
    Chapter 6
    The article in the paper actually bored him. Front page, with a picture of the dark-haired young woman. The Hunter eyed it with calculated assessment, decided it didn’t do her justice, and went on reading.
    They had the shoes. Some blood. No body, just like the others. They couldn’t release more details.
    Because they didn’t have them, of course.
    Tsk tsk tsk. Sounded like a difficult case to solve.
    There was a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray and he picked it up and took a blissful inhale. Damn bad habit, but it was a guilty pleasure. Might kill him one day, but that was the way it went.
    Unfortunately, life was full of dangerous habits …
    His more than most.
    *   *   *
    Sheriff Pearson was wiry, athletic, a long-distance runner in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a Vandyke beard. He’d been to Indianapolis just two weeks before to try to qualify for the Boston Marathon and missed only by minutes, finishing in the top group of the male contestants. His sharp, dark eyes rarely stayed focused on one object for long and he had a slew of restless habits, one of which was flipping a pen around in his fingers. He was twirling one now in short bursts, his face furrowed in thought.
    “We’ve been searching the woods for two full days. I’m going to call it off.”
    Rick wasn’t surprised. He nodded in resigned agreement. Their killer didn’t leave the bodies behind. The question was, what did he do with them?
    “I understand Dr. Grantham dropped by a little while ago and gave us a printout of his response to your request.”
    “Yes, sir.” Rick took a copy of the spreadsheet and handed it over. “His complete agenda—on paper at least—of where he was when all four women disappeared.”
    Pearson glanced at it. “What else do you know?”
    “He went to MIT. Engineer in computer tech. Then to Marquette for the Ph.D. in literature. Clean credit, not even a traffic ticket since he was in high school, and other than what appears to have been a nasty divorce if the restraining order is an indication, not much else is out there without interviewing family and friends. We haven’t gone that far because it seems premature.”
    The sheriff set the report on his desk. Even in late autumn a fan whirred by his desk, mounted on a small block of wood on one of the filing cabinets. His desk was cluttered, the blinds dusty, and a dying water cooler gurgled in the corner of the room. “Forensics says the blood found by the shoe is human. The Simmons family is frantic. So are all the other families for that matter.”
    Rick could imagine. He had two kids, one little girl who was twelve and one who was six. They lived with their mother except for every other weekend, when they were his alone. In a purely selfish way, he was glad if this sort of crime had tainted Lincoln County—at least it wasn’t some wacko kidnapping little kids. He’d even go to Vivian’s to see them if that was the case rather than bring them here, and that was really saying something, because every time he set foot in her house, the visit ended in some sort of argument.
    “We’re checking out what he gave us,” Rick explained.
    The sheriff turned to gaze at several framed news clippings on the wall and the pen whirled with even greater speed. “This is getting bigger and bigger. I think you are very competent and Detective MacIntosh is