Before He Takes

by Blake Pierce

  “This is unreal,” Ayers said. He was looking out at the pond as if he might be sick.

  “Can I ask why you don’t keep your private property blocked off to others?” Mackenzie asked. “We’ve seen several of these little side roads that are chained off all along the back roads of Bent Creek.”

  “Because I made the mistake of giving people the benefit of the doubt. Most people in Bent Creek know that they are welcome to come down here and fish whenever they want. I don’t mind. Most of the fishing done out here is fathers with their kids and maybe the occasional pair of men that come out to drink and complain about their marriages. I’m happy to offer the space.”

  “So anyone is allowed to come down here?” Ellington asked. “Do they ever call and ask permission?”

  “Some do. But after they call the first time, I always tell them a call isn’t necessary.”

  “So in other words,” Mackenzie said, “there’s no way to know who came down here this morning.”

  “That’s right.”

  Mackenzie looked back out to the pond. The men had come out of the water and were stripping out of their gear on the opposite side of the truck. The driver then hit a lever that had the cable start to pull in. There was a groan of protest but then the truck started to slowly reveal itself. It came out of the water sluggishly as the driver pulled the tow truck slowly ahead.

  Mackenzie looked to the surrounding forests, now starting to catch the snow. Whoever drove that truck into the pond had to have left on foot. There are no tracks leaving the field. And if they left on foot, the snow will have covered up their tracks. Another dead end.

  “Thanks for your assistance once again, Mr. Ayers,” Mackenzie said. She stepped out of the car and walked over to the tow truck. Bateman and Roberts were already opening the doors to the truck. A thin stream of water cascaded out.

  “This is a fucking nightmare,” Bateman said. “I won’t even lie…I was almost hoping to find a body in here.”

  “May I?” she asked, walking to the opened door.

  “Help yourself.”

  Mackenzie looked inside the truck, a little overwhelmed by the stagnant smell of pond water that came rushing out toward her. The truck looked relatively clean, albeit soaked. The only thing notable that she spotted was an iPhone that had been washed down onto the floorboard and pinned underneath the gas pedal. She snatched it out and saw that it was remarkably still powered up and working. Its expensive Otterbox case had apparently saved it.

  “You have any way to get beyond her password screen?” Bateman asked.

  “We can make a call,” Mackenzie said. But really, she didn’t think it would do any good. Unless the man they were after had called her, she doubted they’d find anything of use on the phone.

  Mackenzie checked her watch. It was just after eleven. The day suddenly seemed to be creeping away from them.

  The man was on foot after this, she reminded herself. And given that she had a full meeting at the slaughterhouse, that gives a thin window of time. Even if he put the car in the pond fifteen minutes after her meeting, that gives him just a little over two hours to work with. On foot, he’d be slow. But what if he had another vehicle somewhere close by, waiting for him? If he is a local, he’d know spots to hide his other car.

  “Sheriff, I think we need to call a lockdown.”

  “Of the whole town?”

  “No. But this guy was on foot when he left here.” She then went on to tell him her thoughts, right down to the possibility that he had stowed another vehicle away nearby.

  “Well if he did have another car, even within a mile of here, he could be out of town by now. I can’t lock down the whole town based on a mere hope.”

  It was the first actual resistance she had seen from him but she also knew he had a point. Besides, they didn’t even have a single idea of who they were looking for. It would result in a lot of unnecessary stops at the outskirts of town, which would also mean a tired and demoralized police force.

  “If you can find me something to go on,” Bateman said, “I can maybe work with you. But I can’t have officers at every exit out of town without any idea of what they’re looking for.”

  “I understand,” Mackenzie said. “How about other properties within walking distance of here? Can we get some people to check for any suspicious activity? Maybe even people who saw this truck going past their house?”

  “Yes, we can do that.”

  The hell of it was that from here, there were no visible footprints other than their own to go by. The fresh snowfall had covered up any that had been left behind.

  “And maybe a few officers should scan the edge of the woods for any clear signs of someone having passed through recently,” Mackenzie added. “If this guy left here on foot no more than two hours ago—”

  “Then any signs are going to be covered up fast by this damned snow,” Bateman continued.

  Bateman gave her a nod as she headed back for her car. Ellington joined along beside her, giving the water-logged government truck one last glance over his shoulder.

  “What’s our next move?” he asked.

  Maybe it was because she was getting frustrated with the lack of leads or maybe his tone—she wasn’t sure. But this time, it did sound like he was almost testing her or undermining her. She was sure this was not his intent but it was starting to come across in such a way.

  Grasping for straws now, Mackenzie gave the only idea she had left. “Missy Hale was last seen at the slaughterhouse. And since the slaughterhouse seems to be the nexus of this town, I say we go pay a visit to the last person who spoke to her. Maybe we can get a gauge on Missy Hale’s mood upon leaving.”

  “Better than nothing,” Ellington said as they got into the car.

  He backed the car out as well as he could around the five other vehicles in the field. Mackenzie gave the scene one last look as they headed back down the dirt road toward the blacktop. The snow was coming down a bit harder now, causing Ellington to put the wiper blades on. The increasing snow, she knew, would make things harder on them. With this knowledge, the wiper blades moving back and forth across the glass sounded less like a way to remove the snow and more like the ticking of a very impatient clock.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  “This snow is going to make things a lot harder,” Ellington said as they crept closer and closer to the slaughterhouse. The roads were not yet treacherous, but it wouldn’t take much longer. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to divide and conquer.”

  “What are we dividing and conquering?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s only going to take one person to get information from the slaughterhouse—if there is any to be had. Meanwhile, one of us could check out some of these smaller farms around here that no one has bothered investigating. And I’d like to give it a shot before the damned snow makes it impossible.”

  “Which farms did you have in mind?” she asked.

  “Looking at those maps this morning, there were two that I saw. One isn’t too far away from the slaughterhouse.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she said.

  “Of course it is,” he said with a grin. “So why don’t I drop you off at the slaughterhouse and pick you up about an hour later? That should give me enough time to check out at least the one closer to the slaughterhouse.”

  “That could work,” she said. Honestly, though, she didn’t like the idea of being stranded at the Bent Creek slaughterhouse without a mode of transportation. But she trusted Ellington and his intuition so she said nothing of it.

  Ellington drove slowly through the snow. As they made their way through the center of town, they passed two state trucks, one with a plow on the front and the other dumping a generous amount of salt and chemicals on the road, hoping to combat the snowfall before it got any worse. While Mackenzie viewed the slaughterhouse as being the heartbeat of the town, it was, in fact, located at the very edge of the Bent Creek town limits. And despite having to drive all the way across to
wn in snow, they came to the entrance in less than twenty minutes.

  Ellington drove her straight to the front door, using a roundabout road that connected the highway to what Mackenzie assumed were loading docks around back. Several other parking lots were scattered here and there, presumably for employees.

  Before she closed the door behind her, Mackenzie peered back into the car. Seeing him with a look of determination on his face, plus the almost protective way he looked back at her, brought back a rush of emotion from last night.

  “Don’t go off being some lone cowboy,” she said. “If anything pops up, give me a call.”

  “I will. Same goes for you. I’ll give you a call on my way back.”

  She closed the door, doing her best to understand the feeling that was urging through her. It wasn’t love; she wasn’t naïve enough to go that far. But she was certainly developing some sort of feelings for him.

  And you can figure all of that out once this case is wrapped up, she thought. For now, keep focused. McGrath wants you back in DC and this snow is going to seriously complicate things.

  She walked up a short yet wide flight of stairs toward the slaughterhouse entrance. Having never visited a slaughterhouse before, she was a bit surprised by the appearance of the place. She had been expecting some worn down factory, something industrial and gray. But the front of the large building looked almost like any professional business she had seen. It was more of the same as she stepped in through the front doors. She found herself in a nicely decorated lobby that served as a waiting area of sorts. A single receptionist sat behind a small glass partition on the far side of the room, speaking on the phone. A closed door sat in the wall directly beside her office.

  Mackenzie made her way to the receptionist just as she was finishing her phone call. She looked to Mackenzie with a smile that was obviously rehearsed and all part of the job.

  “Hi,” Mackenzie said, subtly showing the woman her badge. She spoke quietly, not wanting to draw attention from one of the three people currently sitting in the waiting area. “I’m Agent Mackenzie White with the FBI. I need to speak to whoever had a meeting with Missy Hale of the Department of Agriculture this morning.”

  The woman’s rehearsed pleasant face was wiped away. It was replaced by suspicion and concern. “Of course. Let me page my supervisor and find out who that was.”

  Mackenzie waited as the receptionist did her job. She wondered how much of Bent Creek’s economy came out of this slaughterhouse. She’d heard of small towns that basically thrived only because of lumber yards; she supposed it might be the same for Bent Creek and their slaughterhouse. It would certainly explain the success of a few of the farms in the area.

  From the other side of the glass, the receptionist set her phone down. “Come on back,” she said, standing up from her chair and opening the door by her closed-off office.

  The receptionist led her down a small hallway and didn’t even make it to the end of it before a middle-aged man started to approach them from the other end. The man had the same look the receptionist had shown seconds ago. He was clearly worried; the presence of the FBI in a slaughterhouse was surely not sitting well with him.

  The receptionist seemed glad to hand Mackenzie off to him. She didn’t say a single word as she turned around and headed back to her station.

  “Agent White,” the middle-aged man said, offering his hand. “I’m Carl Houghton. What can I do for you?”

  Even before she started to speak, Carl Houghton led her down the hall and into his office. It was a huge office that showed signs of a man who loved his work. Two large dry erase boards clung to the walls, filled with notes. His desk was well cleaned but also seemed somehow filled with well-organized work. Books, folders, and stacks of paper sat like a wall along the sides.

  “You spoke with Missy Hale this morning, correct?” Mackenzie asked as she took a seat in front of his desk.

  “I did,” Houghton said. He did not sit, opting to stand at the edge of his desk. It was clear that he was concerned. He was apparently not a man who was used to something throwing him off of his usual course.

  “Was it a successful meeting?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Yes. It always is. She comes by to look in on waste disposal and to have a look at our quarterly numbers, making sure we’re not doing too well. There’s only a certain amount of meat we’re allowed to ship out each quarter.”

  “Are you aware that when she left here, she was scheduled to meet with a farmer in Bent Creek?”

  “I knew she had a short morning ahead of her. She revealed that much through small talk.”

  “And do you think she maybe seemed bothered or nervous?”

  “I wouldn’t say so,” Houghton said. “She was rather happy, I think. She might have been a little upset about snow in the forecast but other than that she seemed normal to me.”

  “I ask these questions because she never made it to her next meeting,” Mackenzie said. “In fact, the truck she was driving was pulled from a local pond less than half an hour ago.”

  “My God! Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Now, as far as we know, she is still alive. She was not in the truck and we have reason to believe that she may be another victim of whoever has been capturing women along the roads here in Bent Creek. So could you please think very hard and make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary?”

  She could tell that Houghton was doing exactly that. But after about five seconds, he shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no…I saw nothing amiss. No red flags, no warning signs, nothing.”

  “Would you say you know Missy well?”

  “Well, it’s always been strictly a working relationship. But I see her four times a year and she sometimes even comes to the Christmas party we have. But in terms of her personal life, I don’t know much. I know she isn’t married, no kids, none of that. She seemed to like her job and always had a laugh to share. Other than that…I’m sorry, but no.”

  Mackenzie had one other question in mind but was hesitant to even ask it. It was such a shot in the dark that she thought even Carl Houghton might get a glimpse into just how out of her hands this case had become. But she had no other option. She was literally running on fumes here, the case rapidly getting away from her.

  “How long have you worked here, Mr. Houghton?”

  “It was twenty years as of this past June.”

  “In that time, have you ever had any employees that were off the range? Anyone that maybe quit over bad blood?”

  “There have been a few here and there, yes. But there’s never been anything huge. No knock-down arguments that tilted the world or anything. I do remember a case where we had to let an employee go about three years ago. We discovered he was involved in dog fighting. We found it inhumane and, since we go to great lengths to protect the environment and try to be as humane as we can—for a slaughterhouse, anyway—we let him go.”

  “Did he go peacefully?”

  “Yes. He understood. He was quite remorseful about it.”

  “And what’s the turnover rate like here?”

  “Pretty good. We offer great hourly pay and the salaries are among the top five of any business of this size in the state.”

  “I wonder…how hard would it be to get a list of people that have quit of their own accord over the last several years?”

  “I can have HR put that together for you,” he said. “When would you need it?”

  “The sooner the better. And maybe put a bit of urgency on the employee that was fired because of the dog fights.”

  “Might I ask why?”

  She nearly told him, but decided not to. But a thought had suddenly occurred to her, one that she hoped might lead to some sort of breakthrough. This guy must have known Missy was leaving the slaughterhouse. Either that or he was damned lucky to just happen to catch her between meetings. That could mean he knew her schedule. And if he knew her schedule, he’s either familiar with the way the slaughterhouse works or has
access to the schedules of employees within the Department of Agriculture.

  “We’re just taking precautions. This was the last place she was seen, so we can’t leave any stone unturned.”

  Oh, Ellington would have loved to have heard that, she thought.

  “Well, I’ll certainly make sure HR makes it a priority. What would be the best way to get the information to you?”

  “Just deliver it to Sheriff Bateman via e-mail,” she said. She then got to her feet, realizing that she had another half an hour before Ellington was due to pick her up. “Would you mind if I had a talk with your HR employees to make sure they know what to look for?”

  “That’s perfectly fine,” Houghton said. “Anything we can do to help, just let me know. Come on and I’ll take you down to HR.”

  Mackenzie followed him out of the office, again feeling a huge sense of failure. How had they not uncovered a single solid lead on this guy yet? Doing something as brazen as putting a government vehicle into a pond should turn up something.

  Maybe he’s getting overly cocky or desperate, she thought. Not only did he abduct Missy Hale in broad daylight, but he also dumped a government vehicle in a pond. He’s going to keep it up and eventually screw up.

  But what if he didn’t? What if he was done with kidnapping and was on to other things now? Mackenzie knew it was a very real possibility and did not like to think of what those other things might be.

  As Houghton led her back into the building to the HR offices, they passed a large window in the hallway. She looked out and watched the snow continue to fall, turning the world white and making her job harder with each freshly fallen flake.