Chapter 11
By the time they were done eating, Ellie had powered through all her fries, most of the onion rings, and more than half her enormous burger. Peter put his milkshake into the cupholder. She put her cup beside his, then leaned back and closed her eyes.
Waiting for the carhop to collect the trays and trash, Peter took out his phone, found a number, and made a call.
“Semper Fi Exteriors, this is Manny.”
“It’s Peter. Got a minute?”
“Ashes, mi hermano. What’s going on?”
“I’m in Seattle, trailing trouble. I could use a hand.”
Manny Martinez had been one of Peter’s platoon sergeants in Iraq, an extremely capable man. Now he was married with four daughters and a thriving construction business. He’d helped Peter and June with something a few years back.
“Anything for you, Ashes. You want to come to the house?”
“I’m not bringing my problems to your doorstep, putting Carlotta and the girls at risk.
What I need is a weapon, preferably one that isn’t registered to you, in case I have to do something.
Also, I’m out of folding money for a hotel room and I don’t want to use a card. Do you have any cash in the house?”
“Yeah, I keep a little somethin’ for ’mergencies. But you don’t need a hotel room, ’mano. My sister, Stella, just left for Colorado. She’s doing another Ironman. Her place in Ballard is empty until next Tuesday.”
Four nights without clerks asking for his ID. “That’d be great, brother. Then hang on to your cash. I’ve got some in the truck, I just can’t get to it until tomorrow.”
Manny gave Peter the address and told him where to find the key. “Anything I should know?”
Peter looked at Ellie, staring out the window again. “You see the news today?”
“I got KING 5 on right now. The shooter on Queen Anne Hill or the double murder at that motel?”
“Both,” Peter said.
“Dang, that’s bad. I’d offer to call my guys, put a fire team together, but we’re shut down for hunting season and they’re all in Montana or Wyoming.
” Most of Manny’s employees had served with Manny and Peter.
They were, among other things, avid elk hunters.
To Peter’s knowledge, there was no more heavily armed and dangerous group of roofers on the planet.
“Okay,” Manny said. “I’ll grab some hardware from the shop and meet you at Stella’s place. Gimme ninety minutes.”
“Actually, things are a little fluid right now,” he said. “I picked up a, uh, high-value package. Kind of delicate.” He glanced at Ellie again, but she didn’t seem to be listening. “How about tomorrow, 0900?”
“Roger that. You can catch me up then. But you better get your butt over here for supper before you blow town, or Carlotta gonna wring my neck.”
Peter was still watching Ellie. “I have a better idea. Could Carlotta come tomorrow, too?”
—
The carhop still hadn’t come for the trash, so Peter got out of his seat, collected the trays, and carried them to the garbage can.
Instead of heading back to the truck, he lingered on the covered walkway, his bare feet freezing on the cold concrete.
He didn’t want to make his next call where Ellie could hear it.
June picked up quickly. “Hey, Marine. How was the pizza?”
“There was another shooter,” Peter said. “At the motel. He killed KT.”
“Dear God,” June breathed. “What about Ellie?”
Peter looked back at the truck. The girl still had her head back and her eyes closed. “I’ve got her with me. It’s bad, Juniper.”
June let out a low moan. She and KT had been close. KT had been June’s mentor, teaching her the basics of investigative reporting. But really, Peter knew, more like a big sister.
Then June cleared her throat, pulling herself together. “I get in at noon tomorrow. We’ll sort this shit out together.”
“I wish you’d stay home,” Peter said. “I have enough to worry about with keeping Ellie safe. These guys came out of nowhere, and I still have no clue what this is all about.”
“Listen, Marine, if you want to know why they went after KT, you need me there to figure it out. So fuck you, I’m coming.”
Peter sighed. He knew better than to try to talk June out of doing something she was determined to do. Also, she was right. He did need her. In more ways than one. “Okay,” he said. “Text me your flight info, I’ll pick you up.”
“You bet your ass you will. I’m calling Lewis, too. Maybe he can get on the same flight. Did you reach out to Manny?”
“He’s coming over first thing. But I don’t want to involve him any more than I have to. He’s got a wife and four daughters. I’m not willing to put him at risk.”
“You know Manny’d do anything for you,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “But Ellie’s already lost her mother. I won’t have Manny’s four girls lose their father, too.”
“What are you going to do with Ellie?”
“I have no idea. Did KT have any family in the area?”
“No. Her parents were back in Minneapolis, but they’re both dead. She had a brother in Portland, but he had a heart attack last year, and he’d never married.”
“What about Ellie’s dad?”
“He’s been out of the picture for a long time.
I don’t even know his name. The last I heard, he was working for a software company overseas somewhere.
The police will reach out to the State Department, they’ll try to find him.
Given the legal system for minors, she’ll most likely end up with her dad when the dust settles. ”
Peter looked at Ellie again. So young, so fragile. Losing her mother, especially like this, was really going to mess her up. He hoped her father was a good guy.
If he wasn’t, Peter would have to set him right.
—
He always felt better on the move, so after he and June said goodbye, he got back on the road, circling restlessly until Durant called.
“The motel is secure. How long will it take you to get here?”
Peter was heading south past Green Lake. “Ten minutes, maybe less. You talk to your boss about me? About my security concerns, and access to the investigation?”
“I did.”
Peter frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Just come in, we’ll talk.”
“Durant. You did hear me before.”
“I heard you, Mr. Ash. It’s complicated. Just get here, okay? Ask for Detective Kitzinger. The scene officer will send you back.”
—
The motel parking lot had been transformed with pole lights and crime scene tape and multiple forensics vans and fifteen or twenty police vehicles in the lot and along the street. When you included the dead killer, it was a triple homicide.
Traffic was down to a single lane. Peter tried to turn in at the motel entrance, but it was blocked by a patrolman in a slicker with a flashlight.
Peter stopped and lowered his window. The rain had let up and the air smelled fresh and damp.
The cop came over, shone the light in Peter’s face, then did the same to the girl, who put up a hand to shield her eyes.
“Sir, this is a crime scene, you’ll have to move on. ”
“Detective Kitzinger is expecting us.” Peter gave his name.
“One minute.” The young cop stepped back, spoke into his shoulder mike, listened, and returned. “She’ll meet you in the motel office, sir. You can pull into the entrance just ahead of me.”
Peter maneuvered past the cruiser and reversed into the lot, getting as close as he could while still making sure the truck faced away from the dead. Now came the tricky part. He turned to the girl. Her face was shiny and tight. She looked like she was five years old.
“This will be hard,” he said. “We’ll have to talk about what happened. They’re going to ask a lot of questions.”
She seemed small and alone. “But you’ll be there, right?”
“The whole time.”
They found Detectives Kitzinger and O’Donnell in the lobby.
O’Donnell was a thickset, Irish-looking guy in a blue waxed cotton ballcap and jacket whose round and cheerful face meant that he would always have the role of good cop.
Kitzinger, in contrast, was thin and taut as a barbed-wire fence, her narrow mahogany face fixed in a mix of skepticism and suppressed outrage.
They were talking to a uniformed sergeant and Captain Durant, who still wore his black cowboy hat and raincoat.
He looked drawn and grim. The room no longer smelled like fresh paint.
It smelled like wet, angry cops. People had been killed, and good police took that personally.
The fact that they’d left KT and Ellie without protection only made it worse.
Kitzinger softened slightly when she saw Ellie and walked over to greet her. “I’m so sorry about your mom. Are you up to talking about what happened?” She tipped her head toward the office behind the reception desk. “Let’s go back there, get a little privacy.”
Ellie glanced at Peter. “Um. Can he come, too?”
Normally, Peter knew, a parent or guardian would be present during the questioning of a minor child.
At the moment, with Ellie’s mother recently murdered and her father out of the picture, Peter was the closest thing she had to a guardian, legal or otherwise.
Ideally, the SPD would bring in a detective experienced at interviewing distraught juveniles, and a mental health professional to help minimize the damage.
But this was the real world, with its after-hours crime scenes and limited budgets.
And the damage was already about as bad as it could be.
Kitzinger’s eyes were fixed on Ellie’s face. “Of course,” she said. Despite her attempt at softening, she still radiated an intensity that was almost palpable. She’d been the same when she interviewed them after Reed tried to kill them. She was invested. Peter liked that.
Kitzinger led the way to the office. O’Donnell waited until they’d passed and followed behind, with Durant last. The room was small.
The white static didn’t like it, or Durant blocking the doorway with his bulk, but there was nothing to be done but take a deep breath.
They sat in uncomfortable chairs around a small table and Kitzinger walked Ellie through what had happened, asking clear, concise questions.
Ellie’s voice was thin and remote. Kitzinger recorded the conversation on her phone and O’Donnell took notes.
When Ellie was done, Kitzinger turned to Peter, this time moving back and forth in the narrative, missing nothing.
She was very good at this, Peter thought.
He made sure to emphasize what he’d said earlier, that the killer had a suppressor on his pistol and some kind of tactical training, which put him in a different category than Geoffrey Reed. Captain Durant was silent.
Finally Kitzinger leaned back in her chair and glanced at Durant, who nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “The security footage confirms most of what you’re telling us.
After the uniform got called out to a bar fight in the U District, the Toyota rolled into the lot.
The pizza delivery guy was right behind him.
The shooter left his truck, had a quick conversation with the pizza guy getting out of his car, then pulled his gun.
We assume he was improvising, but he seemed to have had some practice.
He didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t waste a shot.
His hat shielded his face from the cameras, and he didn’t look up to see where they might be.
If you hadn’t killed him, we’d have almost nothing. ”
“Do you have a name?”
Kitzinger said, “We can’t release that yet.”
“The man tried to kill us.” He tipped his head at Ellie. “He killed her mother. We have the right to know his name.”
Kitzinger looked at Durant. He nodded sourly. She said, “Scott Enderby. He lived in Magnolia, about two miles from Ms. Thorsen.”
At the mention of her mother’s name, Ellie made a small noise.
Peter put a careful hand on her shoulder. “You okay, kiddo?”
She looked at her hands folded in her lap. “I want to see her.”
Kitzinger was shaking her head, her face softer. “Eleanor, that’s really not a good idea.”
Peter had more than his share of experience facing death. He got out of his chair and knelt on the floor before the girl so he could see her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Talk to me, kiddo. Why do you want to see her?”
She swiped at her face with the backs of her hands. “I want to say goodbye, you meatball.”
Well, hell, Peter thought. What was he supposed to say to that?
He looked at Durant, who sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Detective O’Donnell, can you go make that happen?”
As O’Donnell stood to leave, Kitzinger pointed at Peter’s and Ellie’s bare wet feet turning blue with cold. “Hey, Patrick? While you’re at it, see if the scene techs are done with their shoes and socks.”