Fractured by Kate Watterson Page A

be continued when they had more help. Ellie’s slim flashlight was not going to be enough once it started to get truly dark and she could tell her partner was really jumpy.
    Or maybe he should be more edgy than usual.
    The place was a bit atmospheric with the gloom and the deserted air than she disliked as well, but if there was one thing she’d learned about Jason Santiago it was that he had a way to sense danger that seemed ingrained; she was still trying to figure that one out since he didn’t talk about it much.
    â€œHold it.”
    â€œWhat?” she asked sharply, as his hand came out to block her forward movement.
    He stopped and went still. “I hear something.”
    She caught it too, the sound of someone running at the back of the building and then the clear slam of a door. Santiago took off toward the reverberation, and from past experience she knew he could outdistance her, but Ellie followed, the shrouded hallways not helping, their footsteps ringing on the old tile.
    Most of the doors would only open from a bar on the inside unless a key was used from the outside. It was difficult to tell exactly where the person they were looking for might have left, or even if their quarry ducked into a classroom somewhere, and after a left turn by an auditorium, Santiago stopped, breathing audibly through his nose, and shook his head. “We can’t do this. The acoustics in a building like this are all over the place. I think we need to get permission from the city to bring in some investigators, even if our guy is long gone, and really look it over. Either way you slice it, it’s a gamble with our time and theirs.”
    He was right.
    â€œSomeone is trespassing.”
    â€œThey are,” he agreed, his face tight. “Surely the neighbors have noticed something.”
    They left the way they’d come in, and the dingy basement seemed even more sinister on the way out. It was impossible not to contemplate how easily a person could hide among the piles of furniture and various debris. If they could have skipped using the flashlight, that would have been better since it made them visible as a target, but one of them probably would break a leg tripping over some bit of debris in the dark. As it was, Santiago took it away from her at the bottom of the stairs in one of his masculine gestures that she supposed was his notion of gallantry. She found it annoying when it happened. Ellie would have argued when he jerked it from her hand, but had learned it was usually a futile exercise.
    â€œI’ll go first,” he announced tersely.
    â€œIf you want to be the one to get shot at—again, I might add—be my guest.”
    His face was all planes and hollows by the meager illumination. “Maybe I just want the hell out of here more than you.”
    She actually thought that might be true, which was saying something because she wasn’t enjoying herself much either. When they emerged, the sky was starting to go from azure to indigo, and as they went up the cement steps, the first thing they saw was a patrol car in the parking lot next to Ellie’s vehicle. One of the officers, in earflaps and a heavy jacket, was writing down the license number.
    Santiago flicked off the flashlight and handed it back. “Someone was paying attention. If they called in our car being here, maybe they saw whoever left. This could be just what we need.”
    She fully understood the flicker of excitement in his voice. The best part of any investigation was the possibility of that first break. Santiago said loudly as their shoes crunched the crisp snow in the parking lot and they approached the cruiser, “I’m just reaching in my coat for my badge. We’re Milwaukee homicide.”
    The second officer had gotten out of the car when he caught sight of them. He nodded but his hand rested on his hip near his sidearm, and in this neighborhood she didn’t really blame