She had friends, but family was family.
“You should call me. I was literally there the day you were born.”
She cracked a smile. “And made a fuss because you didn’t get to hold me?”
“Let’s pretend that never happened.”
After enduring the rain for a few more minutes, the clouds decided to give Lakemore some reprieve. By the time Mackenzie and Nick reached their destination, the rain had died off, and the sun was shining bright.
Aphrodite was a small store located closer to Tacoma. It looked like an extension of an old house, covered in vines and creepers. There was a wooden sign outside with the store’s name carved into it.
A cacophony of scents flooded their senses as they entered, from eucalyptus and lavender to sweet orange and honeydew. The store was quaint, if a little over the top. Mackenzie picked up a tube out of curiosity. It was a primer.
“Can I help you? I’m Xavier,” a young man with wild hair asked them cheerfully. When Mackenzie and Nick showed their identification, he didn’t falter. “Oops. I hope I’m not in trouble.”
“Do you just work here or do you own this place?” Nick asked.
“It’s a family business. We’re only one store and have been operational since 1953. This is one of the less-known historic sites in Lakemore. Only history buffs know about us.”
Mackenzie showed him a picture of the receipt. “We’re looking for the woman who purchased this. Do you have surveillance?”
“No, we don’t.” He grinned and took the phone from her. “We’re old school that way. Oh, I recognize this transaction, though. Just the one customer who buys that full line all at once.”
A thrill surged through Mackenzie. “What line?”
“All these, the concealer, foundation, etcetera, are men’s products.”
“This is makeup for men?” Nick asked.
“Oh, come on. No age to be narrow-minded,” Xavier teased good-naturedly.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just not as common. And you remember the customer?”
Xavier handed back the phone. “Yeah, he’s one of our regulars. Rees Preston. A very handsome man.”
Fifty-Eight
Back at the station, Mackenzie recalled their first meeting with Dr. Rees Preston. He had exuded charm and had been nothing but cooperative throughout the whole investigation. But he’d had them all fooled.
Preston certainly had the expertise—enough for Becky to recommend him. She thought of his symmetrical, unblemished face. He valued beauty and perfection above all things. And they had been stupid enough to go to him for his help. They’d helped him keep tabs on their investigation.
But they had finally caught a break. Too bad for Preston his receipt hadn’t burned all the way through.
“He would have been the expert witness at the trial if we had charged someone else,” Mackenzie said to Nick, appalled at the possibility. She had sat across from him, interacted with him, and asked him his opinion on his work.
“Becky recommended him. We had no reason to doubt him really.” Nick took out a cigarette and twisted it. “He’s a highly respected cosmetic surgeon with a flourishing practice. Hell, his practice provides free services to burn victims. There’s nothing in his history that connects him to this.”
“Okay. What about Steven Boyle? Preston must be connected to him, if he’s the one behind the ads. The username was Steven, and there’s the pen…” She leaned against the edge of her desk.
“Let’s go get him.”
Preston’s house was slick and modern, with floors of glistening marble and gold-trimmed window frames. As the housekeeper led Mackenzie and Nick in, Mackenzie couldn’t help but find the spacious house odd. Even for her, it lacked the basic clutter that was natural to any home. The artwork wasn’t warm. No portraits or sceneries or colors, just pictures of objects or shapes—precise geometrical shapes. A triangular piece merged with an octagon mounted on the wall. A picture of concentric circles. One spiky object blending into another.
“Makes me feel nothing,” Nick whispered next to her.
“It’s not art. It’s architecture,” she noted.
Then there was another wall covered in pictures of Preston horseback riding—snapshots clicked from different angles and poses; in some the horse was suspended mid-jump, in another Preston stood next to the horse, patting its nose, and in others he held trophies after winning competitions.
Mackenzie remembered the gift that had been sent to Steven. The tool used to engrave it had been in a horse stable at one point.
“Self-obsessed much?” Nick scoffed.
She sniffed the air. The clean and sterile atmosphere was infused with the smell of disinfectant. Everything in this house screamed detachment.
The housekeeper led them through to the kitchen, where Mackenzie heard faint music rippling through the air. Mahler. The kitchen opened onto the backyard, which had a small gazebo with a dining table. In the twinkling evening, the gazebo was lit by warm light bulbs. Preston sat at the table, eating innocently.
Groomed and polished, his golden hair was arched in an elegant wave over his head, a napkin tucked neatly into his shirt. His movements were sharp and confident as he cut into his food. The movements of a surgeon; someone who knew his way around a knife.
Preston’s eyes shot up for a second. “I hope you don’t mind if I finish this, detectives. Please take a seat.”
His chilling serenity made Mackenzie’s breath hitch in her chest. They had walked into the home of a psychopath. Her hand went to her gun. Just to make sure it was still there.
Preston continued to eat, aloof. Like he was expecting company. He sat back and picked up his glass of red wine. “I don’t understand the fascination with guns.” He had observed Mackenzie’s passing gesture. “They’re so barbaric.” He took a sip and rinsed his mouth. The sound tickled against the melody of Mahler’s symphony. He closed his eyes and twirled his hand to the beat, savoring the sound.
“Dr. Preston, you need to come with us.” Nick stepped forward.
He opened his eyes, mildly irritated at the interruption. “I’d like to finish my dinner first.”
“It would be—”
“If you haven’t noticed,” he raised his voice, his jaw set in a hard line, “I’m not making any attempts to flee. And if you had an arrest warrant, I would have been in handcuffs already.”
Mackenzie pulled out a chair and made herself comfortable. She crossed her arms and curled her toes inside her boots. Frostiness bit into her skin. His gaze was predatory. “Such a striking face, Detective Price. You know what I like the most about it?”
“My Roman nose?”
He smiled and went back to cutting his meat. “Your face is a contradiction. A thin chin but an upward curving mouth. Pronounced cheekbones but lower inner eyebrows. You’re hard and soft at the same time. A savior and killer all at once.”
Mackenzie stared at his handsome face, which she could now tell was enhanced by makeup. She glanced at Nick, walking around twitchy and impatient, but assessing Preston.
“What was so striking about Katy’s face?” Mackenzie asked.
“Your attempts couldn’t be more transparent, Detective. I will cooperate, but not without my lawyer.” He wiped his mouth with the napkin and picked up the wine. He sipped it at leisure.
When the verse came to an end, so did the wine. He made a mollified sound in the back of his throat. An easy smile stretched across his lips. “Ready to go?”
Fifty-Nine
It was ten in the evening, and Dr. Rees Preston was patiently seated in the interrogation room. His posture was upright and stiff, but he looked almost comfortable in the toasty room. He watched the mirror with an amused glint in his eye. Like he knew exactly who was on the other side.
“That’s Becky’s friend?” Sully asked, his shirt buttoned incorrectly, probably in his haste to get to work after being called late in the night.
“Yeah.” Mackenzie narrow
ed her eyes.
“I’m glad she didn’t join his book club.”
“Me too. He’s unusually calm, isn’t he?”
Nick was perched against the wall, drinking steaming coffee. “He must have a damn good lawyer. Or an ace up his sleeve.”
“What could that be?”
He shrugged.
Mackenzie pressed her hands against the wall, leaning forward, and hung her head low. Her mind was buzzing with energy, but her body had been drained. She had removed her jacket, rolled up her sleeves, and unbuttoned the top of her shirt. It was the least “uptight” she had looked in years, but on the inside she was incredibly tense.
“Ah! Thank you for joining us. Sorry about the last-minute notice,” Sully said.
Nick looked over his shoulder and stiffened.
“Mack. Nick,” Sterling nodded. Looking immaculate in a custom-made suit, he was clean-shaven, and his soft curls were the perfect length. He regarded Mackenzie with his frosty blue eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Mackenzie’s voice came out shrill.
“I’m the prosecutor assigned to the case.” He remained unaffected. Lawyer. “You’re going to make an arrest, right?”
She was still aghast. Their paths had crossed and merged and collided so many times. This is how they’d met and fallen in love. But she had forgotten how much their lives were woven together. She hadn’t even thought about having to work with him now that they had separated.
It was too soon.
“Yes,” said Nick.
“Did you request to be put on my case?”
Sterling’s eyes widened. Nick swiftly turned away, engaging Sully in some conversation. Mackenzie wasn’t known to slip at work like this. She was Mad Mack. She didn’t get personal.
“I didn’t,” Sterling said, an edge to his voice. “I’m here to do my job. There’s pressure to make sure we’re making arrests and getting convictions after what came to light with your previous case. What do you have for me, Sergeant?”
Sully updated him on the recent events leading them to Preston.
“What’s his motive?” Sterling asked.
“He enjoys it. Playing savior,” Nick replied, his words sending a shiver down Mackenzie’s spine. “He values beauty, ambition, confidence. Drug addicts and prostitutes repulse him. He thinks he’s improving them, making them ‘better.’”
“He’s a narcissist with delusions of grandeur,” Mackenzie added scornfully.
Sterling stifled a yawn. Was he not sleeping enough? Mackenzie tucked the question away. It wasn’t her business anymore.
Heels clacked at the end of the hallway.
“Guess that’s the lawyer.” Sully poked his head out of the room. “Ah, Ms. Cummings. We’ve met before—Sergeant Jeff Sully of the Detectives Unit.”
Mackenzie saw a hand creep out and shake Sully’s. The long fingers were covered in rings of various shapes and sizes.
“Of course. Always a pleasure.”
“Nice to see you.”
Mackenzie nodded in greeting. Natalie Cummings was a tall woman, with hair just reaching her shoulders. She had thin lips and beady eyes, and an infectious laugh. Her fingers were always covered in colorful rings. She wore at least three necklaces. Always dressed in something bohemian, she was easy to underestimate and had a knack of getting on nerves—especially Nick’s.
“I’m representing Dr. Preston. Excuse me, I’ll need a few minutes to consult with my client.” She walked past them and looked over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Make sure we’re not getting recorded.”
Cummings marched inside the interrogation room. Through the glass, Mackenzie watched Preston speak with her calmly, the lawyer nodding, with a somber look on her face. Preston’s tranquility was disturbing. His composed face didn’t show any stress or trepidation.
“What do you think our strategy should be?” Mackenzie asked.
“Hold back,” Sterling suggested, taking off his tie. He never tied it right, always too puffy. “They’re expecting you to go in full throttle.”
“How will that help?”
“It won’t, but it’ll save you energy. He has something, and it looks like he’s fully willing to cooperate.”
Mackenzie and Nick exchanged an uneasy glance. What could Preston possibly have for them but a confession?
“What can we charge him with?” Nick asked.
“Manslaughter or murder, illegal medical practice, trafficking… You should file a warrant to go through his computer and link him to those advertisements,” Sterling said.
“Jenna’s already on it.”
“We’re ready!” Natalie beamed and raised her hand to get their attention.
Mackenzie cracked her neck and followed Nick into the room. Preston tracked her movement through the glass even though he wouldn’t have been able to see them.
“What evidence made my client a person of interest?”
The contrast between Preston and Natalie was glaring. Preston was about minimalism and austerity. His white shirt was devoid of any crinkles. Next to him, Natalie was flashing like a disco ball. Her bright rings and irregularly shaped necklaces blended with the floral print on her dress. There was so much going on that Mackenzie had an irrational urge to wipe her clean.
“Recognize this?” Nick slipped a picture of the shed toward Preston.
Preston barely even looked. “Yes.”
“We found a half-burned receipt in there from a cosmetics store called Aphrodite.”
“That place is a hidden gem. What did you think of it?” Preston asked.
Mackenzie curled her fingers into a fist in her lap. Her eyes searched the man she had sought for weeks. He spoke in a measured voice, like words were too valuable to just be spilled. He took care of things; he valued beauty and manners. Killing seemed almost too rudimentary for him, especially a stabbing. What had triggered him?
“Do you know Bella Fox, also known as Isabella Fabio?”
“Yes.”
“Did you perform medical procedures on her face?”
A coy smile made his cheeks protrude under his eyes. “Yes. She expressed a strong desire to improve herself.”
“Was it her idea?”
“Of course it was,” Cummings interjected, appalled. “Isabella Fabio was a consenting adult of sound mind. Dr. Preston merely provided her a service.”
“Then why do it in a shed deep in the woods?” Nick challenged with flared nostrils.
“Two reasons. First, Bella couldn’t pay me, and I have my partners to answer to at the practice. Second, she wanted to be discreet.”
“Your little clinic in the woods violates a lot of codes of practice.”
“Well, we should probably wait for an investigation before jumping to conclusions, Detective Blackwood. Neither of us are experts here.” Cummings raised her eyebrows playfully.
“She was terrified of you,” Mackenzie blurted, watching Preston’s eyes grow darker. “Did you know that? She tattooed the backs of her knees, leaving us clues.”
“I didn’t.” He sat back, confusion written on his face. “I don’t know why she’d feel that way. I was her guide. Like a shepherd. She was astray. I got her off drugs, inculcated healthy habits in her, and gave her a new face—of someone she should aspire to be like. Everything she needed for a fresh start, a new life. I gave her freedom. When she wanted to open a bank account, I didn’t protest. I believed she shared my desire for perfection.”
“Is that what you did with these other four women?” Nick placed a printout of the other advertisements on the table. “You were guiding them.”
“Yes. The women I helped were given a second chance at life. When they came to me, they were weak and pliant. They had wasted years on drugs and bad choices. The evidence was written all over their bodies. They wanted to move forward, but it’s not easy in today’s world, when we leave our digital footprints to live forever on the internet, when there’s a record of our faces with every government agency. I
gave them a new identity. I molded them from the inside and the outside. Now, when they walk the streets, they are quite literally different people. No risk of someone toxic from their past luring them back, no unpleasant reminder when they look in the mirror.”
“That’s why you chose these faces,” Mackenzie said, meeting Preston’s gaze evenly. “These women. They’re role models.”
“It’s flattery, really. I’d like to think of us as artists. Changing faces. Improving them. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then the face is the door. It’s how everyone judges you, no matter what people say about inner beauty. It’s your introduction to the world.”
“What we’re saying here,” Cummings straightened and motioned for Preston to stop talking, “is that what my client did might be very unusual and even unfathomable to many. But not illegal.”
“He killed two women,” Nick said flatly.
“Who else knew about your activities?” Mackenzie asked.
“Nobody. I’m a recluse.”
Underneath his facade of cooperation, he was holding back. He was taunting her, seeing if she could ask the right questions, like he wanted to tell her the truth but wasn’t sure if she deserved it. She controlled a sneer from contorting her face. That was the power the most twisted minds wielded. They could make a police officer feel like they had something to prove to them.
“Why did you perform such… crude operations on Bella?” Mackenzie asked. “You didn’t approve of them when we came to you.”
“I still don’t. It’s not my best work. But I also believe in continuity and not compromising the sanctity of the process. I was merely continuing Dr. Boyle’s work.”
“And how exactly do you know Steven?” Nick asked.
Preston raised an eyebrow almost pompously. “I thought you’d know.”
“Enlighten us,” Nick replied with a tight smile.
“He was my mentor. He came to give a talk at UW, my alma mater. I wasn’t supposed to attend but caught it by chance. He talked about beauty—what it means socially, physically, and psychologically. More importantly, what it means to those working in cosmetics. I went up to him after, and the rest is history. Everything I learned, I learned from him. He made me realize the power we wield. How we’re more than just Botox and breast enhancements. How we impact self-esteem and self-worth and can mold destinies. My father was a rudimentary man. He didn’t take care of things, of himself. I never liked looking at him. But Steven showed me how to fix ugliness in people. He taught me that we were artists beyond just shaping faces; the external was incomplete without the internal. He showed me how true perfection can be achieved.”
Their Frozen Graves: A completely addictive crime thriller and mystery novel Page 28