by Blake Pierce
The doctor walked to the door and opened it. “Okay, that’s it. She can’t—”
“No, it’s fine,” Delores said. “I don’t remember much, anyway.”
“We can stop if you need to,” Mackenzie said.
Not looking at her, Delores went on. “No, better do it now. Can you believe my damned luck? If I don’t spill everything now, who knows what else will happen to me today.”
Delores chuckled at her own comment but no one else responded. Delores took a few steadying breaths and went on. “The guy was a big dude. But…I can’t remember his face. I’m pretty sure he hit me with a hammer when he took me on the road. Other than that…it’s all jumbled and hazy and…shit. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Mackenzie said. “By any chance did you get a look at your captor?”
“I think so, but like I said…it’s faint. The only face I can clearly recall is the guy on the train…”
Her eyes glazed over here and she looked to the ceiling. Something like shame passed over her face and Mackenzie knew their time with her was over. “I think he tried to rape me but…I don’t know. I guess his equipment was malfunctioning.” She let out a shrill little laugh at this.
“Delores, thanks for your time,” Mackenzie said. “You’ve given us some great information. Maybe enough to go out and find this guy.”
She nodded, the tears still spilling down her cheeks. “If you could throw the asshole from the train in jail, that would be great, too.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Ellington said. “Thanks again.”
They both nodded to the doctor and then headed back outside. The cops by the door looked washed out but attentive and doing their best to do their duty.
“The vagrant from the train,” Mackenzie said. “Do you guys know where he was taken?”
“Last I heard, he’s in a holding cell at headquarters.”
“Can you call your supervisor and let him know Agents White and Ellington are headed their way?”
“Yes ma’am,” the officer said.
Mackenzie and Ellington walked back toward the elevators. It wasn’t until the doors closed in front of them that Ellington spoke up.
“So the police nabbed the vagrant,” he said. “Cut and dry. Seems like the Cedar Rapids PD has it wrapped up. Why are we getting involved?”
“Because if we grill him hard enough, he may offer up details he might not find incriminating to himself.”
“Such as?”
“Such as where, exactly, he remembers Delores Manning getting on the train. We need to get Bateman on the phone and ask for a detailed map of train routes through Bent Creek, too.”
Ellington smiled and gave her a nod. “I’d like to say I thought of that first but…damn, you beat me to it.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mackenzie stared through the interrogation room glass at the vagrant. So far, he’d told the Cedar Rapids police that his name was Bob Crawford and he was originally from Fort Worth, Texas. But after about an hour of interrogation, that was the only information they were able to get out of him. During the interrogation, they had applied an ice pack to Crawford’s hand; he’d apparently busted it up pretty good while beating Delores Manning.
Mackenzie and Ellington were in the observation room with two state cops, both of whom were also looking out at Crawford. One of them looked absolutely furious while the other looked sad and defeated.
“You mind if I take a crack at him?” Mackenzie asked.
“Be my guest,” said the angry-looking state cop. “But I’m telling you right now, the guy is worthless. He’s got the shakes and he smells like a mixture between a locker room and the floor of a bar. He’s jonesing for a drink and can’t even think straight. If you can’t get anything out of him, we’ll probably just toss him in the drunk tank until the morning.”
“Thanks,” Mackenzie said. She left the observation room and walked out into the hallway. Just as she was reaching for the door that led to the interrogation room, she heard Ellington falling in behind her.
“You got this?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ll be fine.”
They shared a stare for a moment and in it, she understood what he meant. This vagrant, supposedly named Bob Crawford, had beaten the hell out of Delores Manning. While he had not raped her, the evidence indicated that he had tried but ultimately failed. Ellington was simply making sure Mackenzie wasn’t so repulsed by the creep that it would affect her judgment and skills.
“You mind if I sit in?” he asked.
“If you want,” she said.
Without waiting for his response, she opened the door and walked inside. Bob Crawford was facing the door and when she entered the room, he made no attempt to hide his shock. A lazy grin crossed his face—a grin which dropped completely when Ellington joined her.
Ellington stood by the door as Mackenzie took the single seat on the other side of the table. “Mr. Crawford,” she said, “I’m Agent White with the FBI. I’m really hoping you’re going to be more cooperative with me than you were with the police.”
He looked down at the table and Mackenzie saw that he was indeed trembling as the state cop had said.
“You’re shaking,” she pointed out. “You okay?”
“I need a drink,” Crawford said. “Any chance you can help me out with that?”
“What you need is some hard time in prison,” she said. “You messed that woman up quite badly. Can I ask why?”
He shrugged. “I was weak.”
“Weak?”
“It’s been forever since I’ve been with a woman.”
Anger flared up in Mackenzie but she kept it down. “Well, it seems like your plans didn’t really pan out well, huh? Couldn’t concentrate? Was the train making too much noise? Did you fuck your hand up too bad to get a hard-on?”
Crawford’s face flushed with anger and shame. He stopped trembling for just a moment and was now looking directly at her.
“Mr. Crawford, did the police tell you who this woman was or what she had been through in the last few days?”
“No.”
“She escaped from a man that we believe held her captive for at least two days. And then once she does something heroic and manages to escape, you come along and make it even worse for her. What the hell were you doing in that train anyway?”
“Traveling,” he said. “I don’t exactly have a car. I haven’t had a job in almost six years…just shit work on farms that last about a day. I haven’t had any real employment or friends or family in—”
“You can spare me the wandering vagrant sob story,” Mackenzie said. “There are tons of people down on their luck that don’t beat and attempt to rape women.”
Crawford had no response to that. He focused on the table once again, cutting his eyes toward Ellington as if looking for backup.
“Mr. Crawford,” Mackenzie said, “do you happen to know where the train was when this woman got on?”
It was clear that he did not intend to speak. He slouched his shoulders and sank down in the chair a bit. The moment he did this, Mackenzie got to her feet and shrugged.
“Have it your way. Remember me when you’re in a holding cell, though. You’ll be there for at least three days while paperwork is shuffled around. No one is going to rush to process a vagrant. And I can tell you right now without a doubt that you’re looking at two years minimum. And if you think getting a drink is hard now, wait until you’re in prison. I hear the toilet bowl wine tastes like piss and gasoline.”
She headed for the door, catching the bewildered look on Ellington’s face. She then heard Crawford moving in the chair behind her.
“Wait,” he said. “Look…I just hopped on the train and went. I’ve done it five times in all. I don’t know where the hell I am half of the time.”
Mackenzie turned around to face him again. “Fair enough,” she said. “But what can you remember seeing when she jumped onto the train car?”
“Not much, re
ally. Just trees. Some pines for sure, but I don’t know much of anything else.”
“Pines along the edge of the tracks?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so. Pretty sure there was a grove of pines.”
“And that’s it?” Mackenzie asked. “You’re certain?”
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
“Thank you,” Mackenzie said and exited the room.
She and Ellington huddled together outside of the room, standing between the doors to the interrogation room and the observation room.
“I won’t lie,” Ellington said. “I sort of like that side of you.”
“I don’t,” she said. “It makes me feel a little too out of control.”
“Pines,” Ellington said. “That could be a huge break.”
“It could. That clue along with a working map of today’s train routes within the area could pay off huge. Can you make the call to Bateman while I wrap things up in here?”
“Sure,” he said. “And Mackenzie…I mean White. That really was impressive. How the hell did you get him to open up like that?”
“He beat the hell out of a woman today…which makes me think he’s bullied and devalued women all of his life. When one gets into his face in an unabashed way, his habits and formerly held beliefs shut down and he’s left with nothing more than basic panic to work with.”
Ellington smiled and nodded as he pulled out his cell phone.
“Oh, and Ellington…ask Bateman if there’s anyone new in town. This whole drifter and vagabond thing has me thinking that there’s a chance this guy might not be a local. If he’s drifting through town under everyone’s radar, he’d have hiding spots no one would ever think of. It’s a slim chance but worth a try.”
“Can do,” Ellington said, pulling up Bateman’s number.
Mackenzie wasted no time soaking in his appreciation. She entered the observation room with all cylinders clicking, already formulating a plan for when they returned to Bent Creek.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
They were on the road back to Bent Creek for less than ten minutes when Mackenzie received a call from Sheriff Bateman. It was nearing eight o’clock and Mackenzie felt like the entire day had slipped through her fingers. It was an exhausting feeling but it also served to offer a bit of motivation, too.
“So,” Bateman said. “Ellington asked if we had any new guys in town. My first reaction was no, but the more I thought about it, this one guy did come to mind. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a drifter by any means, but we ran his record and saw that he’s lived in six different towns over the last two years. He’s got a bit of a record, too: possession of marijuana with intent to sell, petty theft, and several traffic violations.”
“Got a name and address?” Mackenzie asked.
“The name is Miller Rooney. I’ll text the address over to you. I can have a few guys meet you over there if you want.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Mackenzie said. “But thanks as always for the help.”
Bateman gave a little noise of acknowledgment and then hung up the phone. Mackenzie set her own phone down on the car console and frowned.
“I think we’re starting to get on Bateman’s nerves,” she said.
“How’s that?” Ellington asked from behind the wheel.
“I’m not sure. I think he feels like he’s not being very much help. Maybe we’re starting to step on his toes…making his force look bad.”
Ellington only shrugged in response. Meanwhile, Mackenzie’s phone dinged as she received the text from Bateman with the address to one Miller Rooney.
“Feel like making one more stop tonight?” she asked.
“Do I have a choice?” he asked.
“No.”
She plugged the address into the GPS and they headed to yet another lead, this one feeling just as flimsy as the others. Maybe it won’t all be for nothing, Mackenzie thought with a sense of dry humor. Maybe we’ll end up with another unintentional drug bust that will piss Bateman off even more.
***
It was 8:55 by the time they reached the address Bateman had given them. It was a basic one-story house, tucked in along the woods with other houses. If this guy was indeed just drifting through, Mackenzie assumed he was renting the place. Being so late, she nearly suggested that they wait to pay the guy a visit tomorrow. But they were already here and the day had already taken its toll—so what was one more stop?
Ellington pulled the car into the small unkempt driveway and killed the lights. When Mackenzie stepped out into the night and faced the house, she was reminded of approaching Mitch Young’s trailer. She wasn’t getting the same foreboding feeling as she had then but the atmosphere of small-town life, surrounded by trees at night, was unsettling nonetheless.
Ellington knocked on the door. When it was answered, it took both Mackenzie and Ellington a moment to speak up. They weren’t exactly expecting such a scene when the door opened.
A young woman answered the door. She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties. She was wearing a T-shirt that had been modified into a tank top, the sleeves having been cut off. The makeshift tank top clung tightly to her, pressing the Rolling Stones logo tightly across her small but prominent breasts, the sides of which spilled generously out of the sides. Other than the shirt, she wore nothing but a pair of black panties. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in a mess that somehow looked great on her.
“Yeah?” she asked, apparently unashamed of her appearance.
“We’re looking for Miller Rooney,” Mackenzie said, still taken aback by the girl’s state of dress.
“Yeah,” the girl said again, turning slowly. “Hold up. I’ll get him.”
Two things occurred to Mackenzie as the girl turned away. First, she was stoned out of her mind. Second, the black panties clung to the girl’s rear as if they had been spray painted on. She looked over at Ellington and was impressed that he was not taking the moment to appreciate the view.
“Thoughts?” Mackenzie whispered as the girl went further back into the small house.
“It’s blasphemy to ruin a Rolling Stones shirt like that,” Ellington said. “Also…I think she’s pretty baked.”
Seconds later, a young man came to the door. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of jeans that were torn at the knees. His long hair was parted down the middle and tucked behind his ears. Mackenzie thought he looked a bit like a dark-haired version of Kurt Cobain.
“You’re looking for me?” he asked.
“Yes, we are,” Mackenzie said. “We’re agents White and Ellington with the FBI. We were hoping to have a word with you.”
Miller gave a quick glance over his shoulder, probably nervous about having whatever drugs his girlfriend was high on. Without inviting them in, Miller turned on his porch light and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
“Sure, what’s up?” he asked. “FBI…really?”
“Yes,” Mackenzie said. “And I assure you that we aren’t here to snoop around in whatever kind of chemical-induced party you and your lady friend are involved in. I’d actually like to ask you about why you’ve come to Bent Creek.”
“Oh, sure, sure,” Miller said. Mackenzie thought Miller might also be a little stoned, though not as much as the girl who had answered the door. “Well, Kelly’s parents live here. Her dad was thinking he could get me a job at the slaughterhouse, but that didn’t really work out.”
“Kelly…is that the girl that answered the door?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Why did things not work out with the job?” Ellington asked.
“Hey, man…wait, why are you guys even here?”
Yeah, stoned off his ass, Mackenzie thought. He can’t even put his own thoughts together coherently.
“We’re here because there are a few people that have gone missing over the last few days,” Mackenzie said. “Please don’t take offense to this, but in cases like this it is usually a good idea to
speak to someone who just showed up in town.”
“Oh, no doubt,” Miller said, nodding as if he had just been told some huge truth. “Well, the job didn’t work out because of my background check. I got a record. Nothing bad, you know? But people are so fucking choosy. Like I’m not good enough to work in a slaughterhouse.”
“How much longer will you stay here in Bent Creek?” Mackenzie asked.
“Who knows? I’ve been helping out on one of the pig farms for a bit. It sucks, but it’s money. Kelly is pissed at her folks. We might head back out to Seattle in a few weeks.”
Mackenzie felt confident that Miller Rooney was not the man they were looking for. Not only was he not smart enough, but someone with such a reckless and carefree attitude would not have the patience or durability to kidnap someone…much less three people.
“Well, that’ll be all,” Mackenzie said. “Thanks for your time. And Mr. Rooney…be a little more discreet about the drug use, okay? If I wanted to be a bitch, I could send the cops over right now and bust you. Got it?”
Alarm lit up Miller’s eyes for a moment. “Yeah, damn. Sorry. Yeah, I’ll do that.”
Mackenzie and Ellington stepped down off of the small porch and headed back to the car. As Ellington backed out of the driveway, Mackenzie watched Miller Rooney slip back into his house.
“Well, that was a monumental waste of time,” Ellington said.
“Not a total waste of time,” Mackenzie said. “It gave me some great ideas of how to repurpose the few band T-shirts I held on to from my teenage years.”
“Oh, don’t even tease me like that,” Ellington said with a laugh that was a little too forced to be real.
“I think I need a drink,” she said.
“Yeah, I could do a drink. You’re buying this time, right?”
“Sure,” she said. “Before we make any plans, though, I should check in with Bateman. He’s been bending over backwards for us. The least I can do is keep him in the loop and see if there’s anything else we can do for him.”
“With all these drug busts, I’d say we’re doing enough,” Ellington said.