by Blake Pierce
“You want me to move out?” Ellington asked.
“No. I just…I don’t know. I have to work at letting people get close. I don’t naturally let people in. This just sort of blindsided me. And besides…you’re a good partner.”
“At work or in bed?” he asked with a sly smile.
“Don’t push it.”
They fell quiet after that. When he reached out and took her hand, she let him. “I’ll get over it,” she said. “I didn’t know you then. If anything, I think I’m more worried about your character…doing that sort of thing while you were married.”
“I know. But I learned my lesson. That’s why I had to turn down a very attractive detective in Nebraska not too long ago. And that was hard.”
She smiled in spite of herself. She gave his hand a squeeze and then got to her feet. “I need to get back. I’ll call you later tonight. You good?”
“Yeah. Just curious about this secret case you’re on.”
Mackenzie made a zipping gesture across her lips and shot him a smile. “Keep being curious, then. I like being a mysterious woman.”
She left it at that, walking back the way she had come. Part of her badly wanted to talk to him about the case. Maybe he could identify with her. There was one thing about the case that was making her hesitant, something that kept her from really diving in and committing. It was not something she would dare tell McGrath. But she could tell Ellington in any other circumstance.
She could tell Ellington that she was afraid of heights.
She could tell him that looking down from Miller Moon Bridge had scared the hell out of her. She could tell him how she’d almost fallen out of a pine tree when she was eight years old, how she’d dangled thirty or so feet in the air, the sap clinging to her fingers while her little heart hammered in her chest.
But of course, with this case, she couldn’t tell him any of that.
She half-expected him to walk her back to her car but he didn’t. She actually appreciated this. It showed her that he knew her strange little quirks and respected them. He knew when she needed distance and he respected it.
On her way to the car, she pulled out her phone and called up Tate. He answered with hope in his voice, maybe assuming she’d managed to crack the case in DC.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“No. But I’m heading back. Do me a favor, would you. Can you or one of your officers put together a list of close family and friends for Malory Thomas? Skip the parents. I think friends would be best for now.”
“Just as well,” Tate said. “Her father is in prison somewhere in North Carolina and her mom passed away when she was a teenager. She’s got an aunt in town. And yeah, I can rustle up the names of a few friends.”
“Thanks. See you soon.”
“Agent White…tell me. Shoot straight with me. You think we’ve got a killer in our town?”
“I just don’t know yet,” she said.
It felt and sounded weak coming out of her mouth. And she really hoped that Sheriff Tate wasn’t adept at picking out a lie when he heard one.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maureen Hanks looked out the windshield and saw the looming shape of the Kingsville water tower. In the thick darkness of night, it stood out like a giant ghoul, always haunting the town. And because the town was so small, it sometimes served as a lighthouse of sorts, there to help people find the center of town.
Of course, Maureen was not in the center of town. She was in the front seat of Bob Tully’s pickup, parked at the edge of an old overgrown hayfield. She was putting her bra back on, her fingers still trembling from the intensity her body had just experienced. She was out of breath, as was Bob, both wiped out from the physical exertions of the last ten minutes. The truck smelled like sweat, sex, and faintly of the sweet cheap wine she always drank when she met up with Bob.
She looked away from the shape of the water tower and over to Bob as he bent awkwardly back into the seat to pull his pants up. She took a moment to admire his defined abs and the hard yet small muscles of his arms, all the result of lifting and welding at his job at Connor Trucking. Seeing his body in the moments after sex, when their sweat was on one another and her nerves were still jumpy, made her recall how she had so easily fallen into this affair. It made it much easier to push down the guilt that reared its head when she thought of her husband and her three year-old daughter back at home.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Bob said. “But we can’t do this again.”
“You say that every time,” she said, reaching over and running her hand over his stomach. “And about two days later, we end up here.”
“I know,” he said. “But it’s got to stop. You understand that, right? This fucking town is too small. People will find out. And I’m not going to be the guy that causes a family to split up.”
They’d been in the midst of this affair for six months now. She wondered why he all of a sudden concerned himself with the state of her marriage.
“Fine,” she said. She knew he’d change his mind. He’d get horny again in a few days and leave her a little note under the bench behind Homeland Realty, where she worked. She’d have him again…and again and again.
And if not…well then maybe she’d finally figure out how to find happiness in the domesticated life she thought she’d wanted four years ago when she had married her husband.
Bob gave her one final look as she slid her shirt on. She liked the way he looked at her—it was one of the reasons the affair had started in the first place. Her husband had stopped looking at her like that after they’d had their daughter.
Bob cranked the engine to life and backed out of their private spot. The truck bumped across the field until they found the small dirt road that etched itself back to the back roads of Kingsville. It was there, just out of sight of the road, that she had parked her car. They said nothing to one another as he stopped the truck. She leaned over to him and they exchanged a kiss, an intense and borderline sloppy kiss that could not strike a balance between passion and lust.
“See you around,” she said as she opened the door and stepped out. She walked to her car and got behind the wheel. She sat there for a while, watching Bob’s truck disappear around the curb in the dirt road. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet of the country night.
This is nuts, she thought. I have a beautiful family, a husband that might still love me if I gave him a chance, and a gorgeous daughter.
She opened her eyes and reached for her keys. For a moment, something felt strange. Something felt…off.
It was probably just her nerves. She was always paranoid after meeting with Bob, feeling as if there were eyes in the forest, spying on her.
She cranked the car and shifted it into drive. But before her foot touched the pedal, a voice rose up out of the back seat as something hard and cold was placed at the base of her skull.
***
He’d known Maureen Hanks and Bob Tully had been having an affair for about a month. He’d been scouting out secret places in Kingsville, places that rose up high above the ground. The water tower had come to mind and that’s where he’d seen them first. Bob’s truck had been squeaking lightly. He’d hidden behind a copse of trees about twenty feet away and watched, seeing Maureen topless through the windshield and hearing her squeals and moans of pleasure.
He’d never liked Maureen. Her parents were assholes; they thought they owned the town. And she’d been a massive bitch in high school. He had noticed this even though she’d been three years ahead of him, graduating when he had only finished ninth grade.
And now here she was, sitting in front of him, with his gun placed to the back of her head. He could smell the sex on her. He wondered how her husband never noticed it. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. He assumed Maureen Hanks was not the sort of woman worth fighting for.
“What have you been up to?” he asked her.
He saw her trying to look in her rearview. He pressed the barrel
harder to the back of her head. She had no way of knowing it wasn’t loaded. Tricking her like this made him feel even more in control.
“I asked you a question,” he said. “What have you been up to? Just now…what were you doing?”
“Please…please don’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, I don’t care about your affair. I just want to hear you say it.”
“I was having sex.”
“With your husband?”
“No.”
“With Bob Tully,” he said. “A man I’m sure is just as equally terrible as you.”
She let out a sob here and he noticed her shaking. “Please…I’ll do anything. Just please don’t tell anyone. And don’t…please don’t use that gun.”
“I’m sure you would do anything,” he said. “Fucking Bob Tully is proof of that. And don’t worry…I won’t use the gun unless you make me. For now, I just need you to do exactly what I tell you.”
“Yes, okay. What?”
“The water tower…you know how to get to the access road?”
She hesitated here and lightly shook her head. She was as stiff as a board in the seat in front of him. “No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s easy,” he said. “We’re going to take a trip to it. I’ll give you directions. For right now, you just drive.”
“Why the water tower?” she asked.
He smiled in the darkness of her back seat, the place he had been waiting for her while she had been with Bob. He’d been hiding out, knowing they’d be there. He’d followed Bob around Kingsville when he got off work. He watched Bob place the note under that bench. He’d then later followed the truck out here, parking his car about a mile away and then hiking through the woods and reaching her car moments after Maureen had gotten into Bob’s truck.
“Just go. Get back to the road and take a left.”
“Okay,” she said, weeping now. “But why?”
Swallowing down a chuckle, he answered: “For the view.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mackenzie pulled her car into the parking lot of Road Runner’s, the same little bar that Mike Case apparently frequented. Deputy Andrews and Officer Roberts had worked quickly to get a contact list together for those who knew Malory Thomas the best. In the end, the only names on the list that really resulted in anything were Emma Huddleston and Michelle Nash. When Mackenzie had called them on her way back into Kingsville, they’d made arrangements to meet at Road Runner’s since that’s where Emma and Michelle had already planned on meeting later that night anyway.
The place was the very definition of a dive bar. It was located next to what appeared to be a long forgotten Blockbuster Video, the logo still somewhat readable in the dust where the sticker had once stood in the window. There were neon signs in the bar’s windows, flashing advertisements for different brands of beer; the Road Runner’s logo, however, was done in simple vinyl on the double doors that served as its entrance.
Before Mackenzie walked inside, she passed by a group of people smoking just outside the door. Apparently smoking had been banned from bars even in the most remote of areas. Looking around inside, she felt more than a little judgmental. The place didn’t really do much to make it seem as if it was trying to class itself up. An ancient jukebox sat against the far wall, where three men huddled around it, one playing air guitar to “Money for Nothing” by the Dire Straits.
The actual bar was a simple stretch of wood that ran along half of the left wall. There were only three beer taps behind the bar, with several shelves of liquor behind an overweight bartender who was currently mixing soda into what looked like rum.
She found Emma and Michelle exactly where they’d said they’d be. They were both blonde, both fairly skinny, and very young-looking. Yet as she got closer, she saw that the one on the left was at least thirty, trying to knock about ten years from her appearance with the help of makeup. They were sitting in a corner booth with a pitcher of beer and three glasses centered on the table, two of which were partially filled.
“Emma and Michelle?” she asked as she approached the table.
“That’s us,” said the taller of the blondes. “I’m Michelle.”
“So I’m obviously Emma,” the other said with a forced laugh. She was the one who was probably closer to thirty.
“Have a seat,” Michelle said. “We didn’t know what rules agents had while on duty, but we got a glass for you, too.”
Had it been any earlier in the day, Mackenzie would have passed. But seeing as how it was after nine at night and the only stop she had after this was back to the motel, she allowed herself a drink. She poured from the pitcher, giving the two women a chance to get accustomed to the idea that they were sitting in a bar with an FBI agent.
“So I’m going to ask some questions that might surprise you,” Mackenzie said. “I would really appreciate your candor and keep it quiet for now. In a small town like this, gossip spreads fast and I’m afraid that anything that might get out could hinder the investigation.”
“Investigation,” Emma said. “Do they typically do investigations into suicides?”
“We do when there are strange circumstances surrounding the suicide,” Mackenzie said.
“Good,” Michelle said. “Because there’s no way in hell Malory killed herself.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“Well, it was against her beliefs for one,” Emma said. “Malory had some pretty strong beliefs. She wasn’t like a holy roller or anything like that but she prayed and went to church on most Sundays. I know for a fact that she was vehemently against suicide.”
“That’s right,” Michelle said. “Not only that, but that damn bridge scared her.”
“Was Malory afraid of heights?” Mackenzie asked.
“No, not that I know of. But she was a bit of a sissy. All of those local ghost stories about the bridge being haunted by the people that had killed themselves on it spooked her. I’m sure she didn’t really believe it, but still…she was a big baby about that sort of thing.”
The two friends shared a longing stare before Emma grabbed her glass and drained the remainder. She immediately refilled it, bringing the pitcher to within about half a cup of being empty.
“Do either of you know if she had any enemies? Even people who might have been envious of her for any reason?”
“No,” Michelle said. “And that’s the thing that confuses me. I can tell you without a doubt that she did not willingly jump off of that bridge. So someone had to have taken her there against her will. The only person I ever heard her speak ill about was her father. He was a bastard. Even though Malory never actually said so, I’ve always thought there was some sort of sexual abuse in their history.”
As Emma nodded, Mackenzie sipped from the beer. It was a little flat and of the generic light beer variety; not close to her preference, but the feel and taste of it were welcome in the tense and awkward space of this backwoods bar.
“What was a typical night out for the three of you like?” Mackenzie asked.
“Like this, only happier,” Emma said. “Sometimes there would be guys that would buy us drinks. Mostly guys from high school that never left town—just like us, I guess. But nothing bad, you know? Despite what you might think about Kingsville and towns like it, there aren’t many creeps. Old men don’t try to hit on us. Most of them know our dads, anyway. There’s usually not a whole lot of trouble around here, you know? I think I’ve seen two fights in this bar and I’ve been coming here a lot since I was twenty-one.”
“How about Mike Case? Either of you know him?”
Michelle frowned and sipped from her beer. Emma chuckled a bit and looked away. “Oh yeah,” Michelle said. “He and I have an off-again-on-again thing. It’s been off again for a pretty good while now.”
“I’m learning that he has a reputation,” Mackenzie said.
“He does,” Michelle said. “He sleeps around and starts shit with anyone that dares to bother him. But he’s not….w
ell, he wouldn’t be a suspect. Everything he does is all a show. It’s to distance himself as far away from his dad as he can. That kind of guy.”
“Did he know Malory?”
“Not well,” Emma said. “Just in passing. And enough for Malory to tease Michelle about hooking up with him all the time.”
“So let’s assume there was someone else involved,” Mackenzie said. “Is there anyone at all either of you would think might do such a thing?”
Both women shrugged at the same time, almost in a choreographed move.
“I really can’t think of anyone,” Emma said. “Honestly.”
“Yeah,” Michelle agreed. “If there was someone else involved, I don’t know that it would have been anyone from around here.”
It was a suspicion that Mackenzie had started to ponder on her drive back from DC. She was hoping it was not the case because when the suspect pool opened up to someone from out of town, finding a solution became infinitely harder.
Hearing it from these two women who not only knew the town intimately, but Malory Thomas as well, made Mackenzie realize it was actually very likely that she might be looking for an outsider after all. It felt certain enough in that moment for Mackenzie to raise her glass to her mouth and take two big gulps from her beer as if trying to wash the thought away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Maybe it was the stress and frustration of what was going on with Ellington, or perhaps it had something to do with feeling that the case was beginning to get away from her, but when Mackenzie got back to the motel she wished she had downed a few more beers at Road Runner’s. If nothing else, it might help her to sleep easier.
She set up her laptop, knowing that there was very little she could do. She had a few people back in DC doing background work, trying to find links between all of the suicide victims but really homing in on Kenny Skinner and Malory Thomas. There was nothing much she could do on her end until tomorrow morning when she met with Sheriff Tate and Deputy Andrews.