by Blake Pierce
Ellington looked over to her and gave her a smile.
“One foot underground,” Mackenzie said, “and eight feet above the surface.”
“The poles were also rather old,” Ellington said. “The wood was not fresh. Our tests indicate it had never seen any sort of treatment, either.”
“That makes it a little easier,” the man said. “If it came from here, older wood would have come out of my scrap stock. Give me a few minutes and I can get you that information. How far back do you need to go?”
“Let’s go three months, just to be safe,” Ellington said.
The man nodded and went to one of the ancient-looking filing cabinets sitting behind him. As they waited, Mackenzie’s cell phone started to ring. When she answered it, she was deathly afraid that it might be Zack calling to request some sort of reconciliation. She was relieved to find that it was Porter.
“Hello?” she said, answering the call.
“Mackenzie, where are you right now?” Porter asked.
“I’m with Ellington at Palmer’s Lumber Yard checking on the test results from the chip we took from the pole.”
“Any results?”
“It looks like another lead to several other leads.”
“Well shit,” Porter said. “I hate to tell you, but it doesn’t get any better.” He hesitated for a minute and she heard a shaky sigh on the other end before he added:
“We’ve got another body.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When they arrived at the new crime scene forty minutes later, Mackenzie was more than a little uneasy that this one was closer to home. The scene was exactly thirty-five minutes from her house, in the backyard of a ramshackle house that had been abandoned long ago. She could practically feel the shadow of this newly murdered woman stretching across the flat land, across the city streets, and falling across her front door.
She did her best to hide her frazzled nerves as she and Ellington walked toward the pole. She looked toward the old house, particularly into its empty window frames. To her, they looked like huge looming eyes, peering out and mocking her.
There was a small crowd of officers around the pole, Porter standing in the center of them. He regarded Mackenzie and Ellington as they approached the pole, but Mackenzie barely noticed. She was too busy taking in the sight of the body, noticing two very distinct differences about this victim right away.
First, this woman had small breasts, whereas the previous two victims had been well-endowed. Second, the lashes that had previously been on the other victims’ backs could also be seen on this woman’s stomach and chest.
“This is getting out of hand,” Porter said, his voice soft and haggard.
“Who discovered the body?” Mackenzie asked.
“The land owner. He lives two miles to the east. He had a chain up on the private dirt road and he just happened to notice it was cut. He says no one comes down here, except an occasional hunter during deer season, but as you know, deer season is several months away. And besides, he says he knows all the men that hunt here.”
“Is it a private road?” Mackenzie asked, looking back to the dirt road they had just taken to get here.
“Yes. So whoever did this,” he said, nodding at the hung body, “cut the chain down. He knew where he was going to come to show off his next trophy. He preplanned this.”
Mackenzie nodded. “That shows willful intent and purpose rather than just some unhinged psychological need.”
“Is there any chance the land owner is involved?” Ellington asked.
“I’ve got two men questioning him at his home right now,” Nelson said. “But I doubt it. He’s seventy-eight years old and limps when he walks. I can’t see him hailing poles around or successfully luring strippers into his truck.”
Mackenzie stepped closer to the body, Ellington following suit. This woman looked considerably younger than the others—maybe in her early twenties. Her head hung low, looking to the ground, but Mackenzie made note of the dark red lipstick, smeared around her cheek and chin. Her dark mascara had also run, leaving dark streaks down her face.
Mackenzie started around to the back of the pole. The lashes were the same as the other two. Some were still fresh enough to offer a wet edge, the blood not quite dry yet. She hunkered down to the bottom of the pole but was stopped by Nelson.
“I already checked,” he said. “Your numbers are there.”
Ellington joined her and hunkered down for a look. He looked up at Mackenzie. “No clue what these numbers represent?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“I think this goes without saying,” Nelson said, “but this case is now going to take top priority over everything. Agent Ellington, how soon can we get some more bodies on this?”
“I can make a call and probably have a few more out here by this afternoon.”
“Do it, please. Any results from the lumber yard?”
“We got sixteen names,” Mackenzie said. “Most of them are construction companies. We have to check each one and see if they can offer any useful information.”
“I’ll get some men on it,” he said. “For right now, I need you and Ellington chasing down the more promising leads. You two are the point men on this thing, so do whatever the hell you need to do to get it wrapped up. I want this sick fucker sitting in an interrogation room by the end of the day.
“Meanwhile, I’m going to have my men go over maps of the surrounding hundred miles or so. We’ll split it up and start staking out isolated areas like this one, the field from the last murder, and cornfields that are easily accessed.”
“Anything else?” Ellington asked.
“Nothing I can think of. Just keep me posted on even the smallest detail you might come across. I’ll talk with you more about that in a second,” Nelson said. He then looked over to Mackenzie and gave her a nod of the head, toward the right. “White, can I talk to you for a second?”
Mackenzie stepped away from the post and followed Nelson off to the side of the dilapidated house, wondering what this was about.
“Are you comfortable working with Ellington?” he asked.
“Yes sir. He’s been on point and incredibly helpful in terms of talking things out.”
“Good. Look, I’m not an idiot. I know your potential and I know that if there’s anyone under my employ that can bring this bastard in, it’s you. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to just let the feds swing in and take it from us. So I want you working with him. I’ve spoken with Porter already and reassigned him. He’s still on the case, but I’ve got him helping with the door-to-door stuff.”
“And he was okay with that?”
“That’s not for you to worry about. For now, you just stick to this case and go with your gut. I’m trusting you to make the right decisions; you don’t need to check in with me on every little thing. Just do what you need to do to end this. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I thought so,” Nelson said with a little smile. “Now you and Ellington get the hell out of here and bring us some results.”
He gave her a gentle clap on the back which, all things considered, was nearly the equivalent of Ellington opening the door for her at the lumber yard. It was a huge stretch coming from Nelson and she appreciated it. They walked back to the body together and Mackenzie looked back at the numbers. She felt that there was something there, that the key to cracking this whole thing lay in those damned numbers.
A part of him, she sensed, wanted to get caught. He was baiting them.
“You okay?” Ellington asked, standing on the other side of the pole.
She nodded, getting to her feet.
“Have you ever been on a case like this before?”
“Just two,” he said. “One of them resulted in eight murders before we caught him.”
“Do you think that’ll happen here?” she asked.
She hated that the questions made her sound uncertain and maybe even inexperienced, but she had to k
now. All she had to do was remember how frightened she had been for several minutes in her own home, spooked at what had likely been an imagined sound of a creaking floorboard, to understand just how much this case was starting to affect her. She’d lost a boyfriend, she was slowly losing her cool, and she’d be damned if she’d lose anything else as a result of it.
“Not if we can help it,” Ellington answered. He sighed. “So tell me, what do you see here that’s new?”
“Well, the fact that the killer chose a road in the middle of nowhere seems odd. The chain across the road didn’t stop him. Not only that, but he knew it would be there. He was prepared to cut it down.”
“Meaning what?”
She knew that he was testing her, but he was doing it in a way that was not insulting her intelligence. He was challenging her, and she was thoroughly enjoying it.
“Meaning that the areas he’s choosing aren’t just random. He has chosen them for a reason.”
“So not just the murders are predetermined, but the locations as well.”
“Seems like it. I think I—” she said, but then stopped.
To the right, at the edge of the thin forest, she saw movement.
For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it.
But then she saw it again.
Something was moving, heading deeper into the woods. She could make out just enough of the shape to see that it was a human figure.
“Hey!”
It was all she could think to say and it came out a bit excited. At the sound of her voice, the shape took off even faster, any attempt at stealth now gone as they snapped branches and rustled foliage while they escaped.
Acting on instinct, Mackenzie took off toward the woods at a sprint. By the time Ellington had caught on and followed behind her, Mackenzie was already out of the yard and in the woods. The trees around her seemed just as forgotten and colorless as the house that sat behind her, its black windows still gazing out at her.
She slapped branches away as she ran through the woods. She could just make out the sound of Ellington following behind her but she didn’t waste her time or effort looking back.
“Stop!” she demanded.
She wasn’t surprised when the figure continued to run. Mackenzie had estimated within a matter of seconds that she was faster than her objective, closing in with a quickness that she had always prided herself on. She caught a few branches to the face and felt cobwebs clinging to her skin but she blasted through the forest, undaunted.
As she closed in on the figure, she saw that it was a man dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and a pair of dark jeans. Because he did not fully look back a single time, Mackenzie couldn’t tell how old he was, but she could tell that he was slightly overweight and apparently a little out of shape. She could hear him wheezing as she closed in on his heels.
“Dammit,” she said as she reached him, stretching out her arm and grabbing him by the shoulder. “I said stop!”
With that, she gave him a hard push which sent him down to the ground. He rolled once before skidding to a stop.
I got him, Mackenzie thought.
The man tried to get to his feet but Mackenzie delivered a swift kick to the back of his knee that sent him down again. He banged his face on a tree root as he fell.
Mackenzie planted a hard knee into the man’s back and reached for her weapon. Ellington finally arrived and he also pinned the man to the ground. Now that Ellington’s full weight was on him, he’d stopped wriggling. Mackenzie reached to her belt and retrieved her handcuffs, while Ellington pulled the man’s arms behind his back to yet another cry of pain. Mackenzie slapped the cuffs on and then pulled the man roughly to his feet.
“What’s your name?” Mackenzie asked.
She stepped in front of him and saw him for the first time. The guy looked harmless, overweight and probably in his late thirties.
“Aren’t you supposed to ask me things like that before you assault me?”
Ellington shook him a bit and applied some pressure to his shoulder. “She asked you a question.”
“Ellis Pope,” the man said, visibly shaken.
“And why are you here?”
He said nothing at first and in the silence, Mackenzie heard more commotion in the woods. This noise came from her right and when she turned in that direction, she saw Nelson and three other officers come scrambling through the thin trees and foliage.
“What the hell is going on?” Nelson shouted. “I saw you two take off in my rearview and—”
He stopped when he saw the third person with them, his hands cuffed behind his back.
“He says his name is Ellis Pope,” Mackenzie said. “He was hanging out at the edge of the forest, watching us. When I called out to him, he went running.”
Nelson got in Pope’s face and it was clear that Nelson was struggling not to physically assault him. “What were you doing here, Mr. Pope?” Nelson asked. “Did you stay close by to admire your handiwork?”
“No,” Pope said, now more frightened than ever.
“Then why were you here?” Nelson asked. “It’s the only time I’ll ask you before I start to lose my cool.”
“I’m a reporter,” he said.
“For which paper?” Mackenzie asked.
“No paper. A website. The Oblong Journal.”
Mackenzie, Nelson, and Ellington shared an uncomfortable glance before Mackenzie slowly reached into her pocket for her phone. She pulled up her browser, searched for The Oblong Journal, and opened up the page. She quickly navigated to the Staff page and not only did she find the name Ellis Pope, but the picture in the bio was clearly the same man that stood before him.
It was rare that Mackenzie cursed, but she handed her phone to Nelson and let out a strained, “Fuck.”
“Now,” Ellis Pope said, realizing that he was slowly gaining control of the situation. “Which one of you pigs do I have to talk to about pressing charges?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mackenzie felt a little out of her element in Ellington’s company and oddly enough, it was a feeling that was only magnified as they sat side by side in a bar two hours later. She knew they both looked tired and a little worn, making them fade into the rest of the patrons. They were not the only ones dressed relatively nicely; people coming in off of work were also dressed slightly above casual, pulling up to the bar in the shirts and ties and pantsuits they had worn to work. Dim afternoon light spilled in from the two windows along the other side of the bar but it was the neon behind the bar and the reflection of the overheads from the shelved liquor bottles behind the bar that set the mood.
“Any idea how Pope found out about the scene so quickly?” Ellington asked her.
“None. There has to be a mole on the force.”
“That’s what I figure,” Ellington said. “And because of that, I don’t see how Nelson can be too hard on you. There’s no way you could have even suspected that the movement in the woods was a journalist. Especially not when Pope took off running like that.”
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
Mackenzie knew she’d gotten off easy. Her superior had watched her take a chubby and defenseless online journalist to the ground in a pretty harsh tackle. And while Pope had gotten nothing more than a slight gash on his temple from falling on a root, and while he had been trespassing on private property, it was still grounds for punishment. Still, she’d gotten what basically equated to a slap on the wrist. She’d seen Nelson dish out much worse for less. It made her wonder, though, just how much faith he had in her. To let her go on her merry way while Ellis Pope was likely making phone calls spoke volumes about his confidence in her.
Of course, he had also demanded that she get the hell out of his sight and go somewhere to re-orient herself before she assaulted the next poor bastard that just happened to get in her way. Sensing a small window of escape before he could think better of his decision to keep her actively on the case, she’d done exactly that.
As she was
sipping as responsibly as possible on a locally brewed stout from the tap, she tried to remember the last time she had come to a bar as a means of escaping the world. She’d usually used work for that—something that was much easier to admit to herself now that Zack was out of the picture. But now that work had sent her away for a bit, it felt surreal to be sitting at a bar.
It was stranger still to be sitting next to an FBI agent she had only met yesterday. In the short span of time she’d spent with Agent Ellington, she had figured out a few things about him. First, he was an old-fashioned gentleman: he opened doors for her, always asked her opinion before making a decision, referred to those older than him as ma’am and sir, and he also seemed to be protective over her. When they had come into the bar, two men had made very little effort to hide the fact that they were checking her out. Noticing this, Ellington had stepped beside her, blocking her from their view.
“You know why the men on your force are so hateful toward you, right?” Ellington said.
“I assumed it was just the way they were raised,” Mackenzie said. “If I’m not in an apron bringing them a sandwich or beer, what good am I?”
He shrugged. “That could be some of it, but no, I think it’s something else. I think it’s because you intimidate them. More than that, I think they sort of fear you. They’re afraid you might make them look stupid and inept.”
“How do you figure?”
He only smiled at her for a moment. And although there was nothing overtly romantic about the smile, it was nice to be looked at in such a way. She couldn’t remember the last time Zack had looked at her like that—as something to be appreciated rather than used or tolerated.
“Well, let’s get the obvious out of the way: you’re young and you’re female. You’re essentially the brand new computer that’s coming into the office to take all of the jobs. You’re also a walking encyclopedia for forensics and investigation from what I hear. Throw in the way you chased down that poor journalist today, and it’s the complete package. You’re the new breed and they’re the old dogs. That sort of thing.”