“That suicide…” Mackenzie pressed. At last they were getting answers; the thread that connected Steven to the advertisements and the procedures and finally, Mackenzie hoped, to the murders.
“Yes, that was his wife, Sofia. He told me all about her. She was a fragile soul. But he failed. Making someone look different isn’t enough. Creating someone better means helping their minds, curbing their insecurities and shame, disciplining them. He couldn’t. Depression killed her. He disappeared, embarrassed by his own failure and hounded by the small minds in Lakemore. It took me two years to locate his shed in Woodburn Park.”
“Have you been in touch with Steven?” Mackenzie asked.
“I heard he was in a retirement home in Olympia. I didn’t visit him, but saw him from afar a few years ago.” Preston looked horrified at the memory. “What a pity. The man I looked up to, who taught me everything I knew, reduced to a pile of ugly bones and flaccid skin. I couldn’t even look at him without gagging. If he were healthy, he would understand. I left him a little token.”
“The pen,” Mackenzie said.
Preston grinned. “So you’ve seen it? Excellent piece, isn’t it?”
“And what is your definition of disciplining them?” Nick cut in before they could get sidetracked.
“Oh, come on, Detective Blackwood. It was just an expression,” Cummings groaned.
“You preyed on weak women,” Mackenzie voiced her thoughts. “They’re extremely vulnerable. Drug addicts.”
“They were adults—” Cummings insisted.
“He manipulated them. Your client had no right to correct these women,” Nick said.
“He offered a service, and they responded. He didn’t force himself on them. It is odd; I’ll give you that. But not illegal. You want to claim emotional abuse? Show us the evidence.”
“He offered someone money to bring him a woman.”
Cummings remained silent.
“Where are the other four women?” Mackenzie asked. “Where is Alison Gable?”
Preston shrugged. “Out in the world somewhere.”
“You’re lying. You’d really let them get away? They’re precious to you. I think you like having them around, so you can admire your handiwork.”
“Speculating once again, Detective,” Cummings said in a singsong voice.
Mackenzie kept her scorching gaze on Preston. “Alison Gable has a child. She would never disappear on her son like that.”
“She was looking for a fresh start and my client gave her one. If she abandoned her child in the process, it’s not my client’s fault.”
Preston’s lips twitched in amusement. He studied Mackenzie closely with his gray eyes, like he was analyzing every inch of her face. It made Mackenzie feel naked.
The circumstantial evidence against Preston was overwhelming. He was behind the cosmetic procedures, behind the ads, and the shed was in Woodburn Park, where the bodies were found. But, as yet, there was no physical evidence or eyewitness account that tied him to the murders, nor anything to suggest he had kept the other women captive. Alison’s mother was certain she wouldn’t have run away—and Mackenzie believed her. But it wouldn’t hold up in court.
Mackenzie looked over her shoulder at Sterling. She knew how he worked; he needed hard evidence. Natalie Cummings was right.
“What charges is my client potentially facing?” she said.
“Apart from murder, obviously,” Nick said sarcastically, “he paid a man to have a woman delivered to him. He has surplus amounts of prescription medicine in that shed. And we’ll be going through his computer—”
“Accessing the dark web isn’t illegal.”
“No, but some websites on it are, including the one he was using.”
Cummings gave him a tight smile. “I know an ASA is standing there, watching us. Everyone knows the environment now. There’s pressure to prosecute and convict.”
“What are you getting at?” Nick narrowed his eyes.
She shrugged innocently.
“If Dr. Preston knows anything then he has an obligation to share it with us. Otherwise, we will charge him with obstruction of justice,” Mackenzie reminded them.
Preston looked at Cummings, who gave him a curt nod. “I’ll cooperate fully, detectives. But I’m afraid my memory isn’t very sharp at the moment.”
Mackenzie was exasperated. She eyed Nick, whose Adam’s apple dipped incessantly. Ask the right questions. They had him cornered. But this could either be over in a few seconds or stretch for a few hours. “Why didn’t you come clean when we first came to you?”
“Two women had been murdered. I wanted to distance myself from it. Naturally.”
“Because you killed them?” Nick asked. “It appears that Katy ran into Bella when she was in Woodburn Park on the trail, presumably running away from you. In the mayhem, you caught up with her and killed them both. That’s what I think.”
“When was the last time you saw Bella?” Mackenzie asked.
“November seventeenth, I believe. Saturday morning. In that shed. I’d gone to restock some supplies and wasn’t expecting to find her there. She panicked and ran away from me, giving me some incoherent answer. I tried going after her, but I got paged for work. I assumed that she’d had a relapse, even though she had been doing so well. You never know with women in this line of work.”
Preston looked bored. But there was a slight tremble in his lower lip. It was so fleeting that Mackenzie would have missed it if she’d blinked. “Do you regret that Bella died?”
“Of course I do,” he said with a wistful longing. “She was my creation. So much potential. She was my favorite. She understood what I was doing, why I was doing it. At least that’s what I thought.”
“You wouldn’t kill what you create.”
“No.”
“Then I’m sure you want to help us catch her killer, then.”
Nick stirred in his seat. Preston appraised Mackenzie before looking at Cummings. She nodded.
“I do,” Preston said coolly. “I believe I have the murder weapon.”
Sixty
“You have been concealing the murder weapon this entire time?” Nick was quick to respond. The veins in his neck jutted out. “Didn’t your talented lawyer explain to you what obstruction of justice means?”
Cummings laughed. “Thanks for that backhanded compliment, Detective. But my client said he believes he has the murder weapon. Since he wasn’t a witness to the crime or the perpetrator, he has no way of knowing if the object is in fact the murder weapon.”
Nick and Natalie stared at each other, frustrated and bitter.
“And why are you coming forward with this now?” Mackenzie asked, placing her hands on the table.
“I found it very close to my property in Woodburn—”
“Your mentor’s illegal construction.”
His lips pressed in a hard line. He didn’t like being interrupted. But Mackenzie enjoyed ruffling his feathers. “As I was saying, I didn’t turn it in before because I didn’t want to risk exposing my property. And I didn’t want any unnecessary hassle. I found it when I returned to the shed, hoping to find Bella there after she didn’t return home. She was staying with me, you see. I retraced her steps in the direction she had run in, and found this knife on the trail not too far from my cabin.”
“And what made you believe that what you found was a murder weapon?”
A sickening smile curled up his face. He was savoring this moment. “It was a gut hook knife. And it had blood on it.”
Mackenzie and Nick were in Sully’s office with Sterling. It was close to midnight, but the room was charged with tension and full of movement. Preston had volunteered to submit his fingerprints, rendering the emergency warrant pointless. Sully’s hands moved frantically, searching for something to do. But he had made the mistake of taking his latest hobby home. Nick was buzzing, leaning against the wall. His knee bobbed to a random rhythm. The high from the coffee finally peaking. He wasn’t sleeping
tonight. Mackenzie and Sterling sat on the chairs across from Sully.
Her empty stomach turned, threatening to release a rumble when she spoke over the sound. “Are you going to charge him?”
Sterling interlaced his fingers in front of him. “I think it’s best to wait for the crime lab to analyze the murder weapon first.”
“Why? You saw him in there. He’s playing a sick game with us.”
He licked his lips. “I get that. But Natalie has a point. We need more proof.”
“He’s holding Alison and the others captive.” Mackenzie’s voice was hard and loud. “You heard how obsessed he is. Do you think he’ll just let them walk away?”
Sterling stared at her with flared nostrils and pursed lips. Her breaths were sharp, grazing through her windpipe painfully. She knew her boss and partner were watching them. The air between them was palpably strained. She didn’t like the idea of her relationship being sliced open for Sully to see.
“At the very least, he’ll almost certainly lose his medical license. I don’t see that the American Medical Association will have a choice,” Sterling said.
“His license?” Mack exploded. “I don’t give a damn about his license—the man deserves to be locked away in a cell for the rest of his life.”
“Mack, I know. We all want to charge someone with murder here. But we need to wait for the crime lab. Our office will work closely with the board of ethics to see what charges we can bring against Preston in the meantime.”
“Yeah, and a doctor engaging in illegal practice isn’t a good enough conviction for your résumé,” she sniped, and crossed her arms.
“Okay.” Sully smacked his palms on the desk to divert attention. “While the crime lab looks into that knife, I’ll call the police in Seattle and inform them of developments.”
Sully dismissed them after going over plans of action. By the time Mackenzie left his office and packed her bag, her bones were too tired to carry the weight of her muscles. Her feet dragged on the floor, and her eyes struggled to stay open. But her mind was going at full speed. She could only hope that the murder weapon would have some physical evidence pointing them to Preston. If they could get him on that, maybe he would tell them where Alison was. Where all the girls were.
“I can hear you grinding your teeth,” Nick commented from behind her.
She huffed. “He was right in front of our eyes the whole time. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. And I know he’s lying about Alison.”
“He put on a good act, playing the willing adviser, correctly pointing us toward Alison. And this connection to Steven wasn’t on paper. Steven wasn’t an alumnus of his university nor did they ever cross paths at any hospital or clinic.”
“Some nerve, he’s got. Doesn’t it make you angry?” It almost sounded like an accusation.
“It does.”
“He’s a self-described artist. He wouldn’t let his work get away. He keeps them. Like trophies in a display case. At least that’s my assessment.”
Nick brooded. “I think you’re right. But he handed us the murder weapon. Do you think he would be that careless if he had killed Bella and Katy?”
“He could have easily misled us about Alison when we consulted him, but he pointed us toward her. He’s that confident that he’ll get away.”
“Okay, but for argument’s sake. What if he didn’t kill them?” Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Those are his creations, his trophies.”
Mackenzie fell on her chair, tired after a long day. “If not him, then who?”
“Are you staying?” Nick asked, packing his own bag. “You look beat.”
“Yeah… I don’t feel like going home yet.”
He nodded and squeezed her shoulder before leaving the office.
Mackenzie rang Ethan Spitz. Even though Sully was going to contact Spitz’s sergeant, she trusted Ethan’s speed and efficiency. He picked up after a single ring, and she updated him on their arrest and discovery.
“Alright. I’ll look into any properties owned by this doctor in Seattle. Nothing in his house there?”
“No. We’ve turned it inside out,” she confirmed. After they’d apprehended Preston, a team had checked his house for the captive women.
“If he’s been picking up women from down there and from Seattle, he could be holding them somewhere in the middle.”
An idea came to her. “You keep looking. I have a lead I’ll follow up on. Will let you know if it pans out.”
“Sure thing. And Mack, we’ll get them.”
Over an hour later, Mackenzie was still in the office. The lamp made her desk glow in the otherwise pitch-black darkness. Her eyes throbbed from exhaustion, but her brain was still firing on all cylinders.
Preston might appear to be cooperating, admitting to his part in the surgeries, handing them the murder weapon, but Mackenzie didn’t buy it. He was keeping Alison and the other women somewhere. The Alison she had got to know in the little pieces she’d left behind wouldn’t have abandoned her child under any circumstances.
Mackenzie looked at the picture of the pen Preston had dropped off for Steven Boyle at the retirement home in Olympia. An elegant gift for his former mentor—a man he couldn’t even bear to look at anymore, now that he didn’t fit Preston’s warped definition of beauty. But he still respected him, continued his work, and left a little token for the shell of a man Boyle had become.
She also had the crime lab report open. She had gone over the mass spectrometry reports before. The engraved markings on the pen meant some particles had lodged themselves inside the crevices, and those particles suggested the pen had been in a stable at one point, or the tool used on it had been. Before, that hadn’t really helped them. But now that they knew Preston was behind this, maybe it was the key to finding Alison.
Mackenzie looked up Preston’s address on Google Maps. There was no stable in the vicinity. Lakemore had one country club with a horse stable, but it was public—he couldn’t have kept Alison there. She clicked her tongue and slumped down in her chair.
Preston’s house had pictures of him on horses, participating in competitions. He was a passionate equestrian and surely wealthy enough to have his own horses. Was he wealthy enough to have his own land to keep them on? Probably.
She accessed the local records. Preston had three properties in the county. One was his home in Lakemore, and another an apartment in downtown Olympia. There was another address—farmland on the edge of Lakemore and Riverview. Mackenzie looked up the street view. Set back from the nearest road, she could make out what looked like a barn.
“Gotcha.”
Sixty-One
December 13
Gray clouds swirled in the sky. Mackenzie stepped in a puddle. She closed the car door behind her and looked at the black SUV turning around the corner. There was a vast stretch of land ahead of them, behind a black fence with barbed wire atop. A red structure sat nearby.
“It’s a good spot to hold someone captive.” Nick looked around.
Secluded and chilling.
The woods surrounding the field would swallow any screams. It was disturbingly quiet. Not even the wind blew. The closest house was miles away. The roar of an engine sliced through the silence. The black SUV floundered over the dirt road and parked behind the squad car also on site.
Detective Ethan Spitz greeted them. “Thanks for the call. Think this is it?”
“It’s the best lead we’ve got,” Mackenzie confirmed. “County records show it’s Preston’s. He’s paying property tax on it.”
Ethan nodded. “Could be it. It’s a stable with a loft. Enough space.”
Mackenzie turned to the three uniformed cops that were assisting them. She instructed them to circle around the property and be ready to call for backup. If they did find Alison and the others in there, they would most likely need an ambulance.
Together they ventured toward the stable, walking across a field left sodden due to the wet weather, their footsteps making squelching
sounds. A flock of birds tapered swiftly across the sky. As they got closer, Mackenzie’s senses went into overdrive.
“Do we have a warrant?” Ethan checked.
Nick showed him the piece of paper. “Went through an hour ago. Peterson, open it.”
One of the cops swung a hammer into the lock, breaking it, and slid the double doors open. A cocktail of scents assaulted Mackenzie’s nose. Hay, pine shavings, and manure. The roof panels provided sufficient lighting. Nick motioned for the uniformed officers to walk down the central walkway, checking the stalls on either side.
On their right, the wall was laden with feeding and watering equipment.
On the left was a wooden door.
Ethan turned the knob. “It’s locked or stuck. Can’t tell.”
Mackenzie backed a few feet away then ran into it with her shoulder. The door crashed open, sending a sharp pain up her injured arm.
They flicked a switch, and the room lit up. It was an office. Mirrored panels covered the entire wall opposite them. A simple table sat in the middle, along with a chair and a shelf.
“What’s this for?” Nick wondered. “He already has an office.”
Ethan picked up some of the papers, assessing them. “Looks like inventory for the stable, paperwork for renovations, that kind of stuff.”
Mackenzie peered at the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. She wasn’t too surprised. Preston was shallow and obsessed with perfection, especially when it came to faces. He must like to admire his reflection—that’s why the chair faced the mirror.
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