by Blake Pierce
She waited a second as the music in the background came to a stop. “Sorry, one second…okay, so…FBI?” he asked again. “Um, what can I do for you?”
“Mr. Fallen, are you at home by any chance?”
“I am. I work from home.”
“Good. I need to speak with you about a pending investigation. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
***
Mark Fallen was clearly living the life of a recently divorced man. The house wasn’t necessarily in a shambles, but it certainly hadn’t been properly cleaned in quite some time. There were empty soda cans and papers scattered all along the coffee table in the living room. Mark tried his best to lead Mackenzie quickly through the mess and into his office. His office wasn’t in much better shape than the living room, but it at least held some degree to professionalism. From the posters and art on the walls, she assumed he was some sort of graphic designer.
“Mr. Fallen, this shouldn’t take long,” Mackenzie said, taking a seat in a chair on the opposite side of the office from his desk. “And I certainly hope you’ll be more help than your wife was on the phone.”
“Well, I can almost guarantee that,” he said. “Seeing as how she decided to morph into this monstrous raging bitch. What’s going on?”
“Well, a string of murders has led the FBI into a search of what could be considered underground clubs. Swingers’ clubs and things like that.”
“Say no more,” Mark said. “Guilty as charged. Ellie and I tried it out to see if it might create a spark in a dry marriage. It did for a while, but…anyway, I digress. What can I do to help?”
“Well, you and your wife seem to have had some sort of involvement with everyone that has been murdered so far. We have spoken with three different venues that engage in swinging and so far, this is the only solid match we have.”
“Oh my God,” Mark said. “Can I…can I ask which couples?”
She told him the names of the four couples and he seemed legitimately shocked. “And these…these are recent?”
“All within the last eight days,” Mackenzie said.
“Jack and Vanessa?” he asked, clearly near tears. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“My God. Did you…did you tell Ellie when you spoke with her?”
“No. She didn’t really give me the chance. Now, Mr. Fallen…while we can’t tag you and your former wife as suspects just yet—nor do I want to—I can’t overlook the fact that you’ve been connected with all of them. So I need you to think back to any interactions you had with these couples. Can you think of any other link? Any other way they might all be connected?”
Mark Fallen reclined somberly in his desk chair. His eyes rolled from side to side as he thought about it. Slowly, he sat up and started to habitually bite at his lower lip.
“I don’t know if it would be important or not,” he said. “But the first time Ellie and I were with the Springses, we also haphazardly met the Sterlings. It was at DCM. They were sort of laughing nervously about this guy that had tried to talk his way into a group thing. A couples thing, you know? Most of the time, there are individuals connected with swingers’ clubs just because some couples like to have just one more body in there…you know? Anyway…they were saying this guy sort of spazzed out and got all weepy and depressed when they told him they weren’t interested. And that made Ellie and I recall the same sort of thing a few months before that, at another event.”
“Was there a connection there?” Mackenzie asked.
“We never found out for certain,” Mark said. “But we gave a description of the guy and it seemed to fit what the Sterlings were talking about.”
“Were you part of a club when you met the Sterlings and discussed this man?”
“Yeah, it was with DCM. Our first time there.”
“How long did you guys stay with DCM?”
“Not long,” Mark answered. After we tried swinging through Alexa’s events a few times, we sort of decided it wasn’t for us. DCM was our last go of it. Even when we made fast friends with the Springses, it never really worked. It was exciting and all, but…not really for us.”
“You said you thought the man the Sterlings had been discussing reminded you of a man at another event. What event was that?”
“There was one really weird story from an event at a hotel two years or so ago. Ellie and I were at the event with the Springses. It’s not one of my prouder moments but…things got out of hand. There were four of us…four couples at the same time. The Kurtzes were one of them. So you’ve got the Springses, the Kurtzes, then Ellie and I. And then the fourth couple. Things had just started getting heated and the guy…he sort of loses his shit, you know. Starts getting mad. I’m not trying to be funny here, but he couldn’t get it up. He was absolutely livid. And as he got mad, he still kept trying to be part of it all, you know? But even his wife didn’t want him near her. He ended up getting thrown out.”
“How?” she asked. “Security?”
“No, there really wasn’t much security at those kinds of things. No…Jack punched him and then some other guy hauled him out. I even remember Ellie trying to stop all the fighting. When Jack knocked the guy out, she was there on the floor with him. She was the only one that tried to help him.”
“Do you remember the name of the other guy?”
“No.”
“Do you recall anyone else that was at the event?”
“I know faces, I guess. But not names.”
“Okay…so we’ve verified that you knew the Springses, the Sterlings, and the Kurtzes. Did you ever meet the Carlsons?”
“If I did, they’re not sticking out in my head.”
Mackenzie pulled out her phone, opened a PDF of the case file, and opened up the .jpeg of the Carlsons. It was from Toni Carlson’s Facebook page. She showed it to Mark and watched as recognition bloomed over his face.
“Yeah. That’s one of the guys that hauled him out.”
And now all the dots connect, Mackenzie thought. This guy was in the same group with the Kurtzes and the Springses for sure. Then Stephen Carlson escorted him from the building after he got angry. And he’s likely the same deranged guy the Sterlings were talking about when the Fallens first met them. He’s been connected to all of the dead couples.
Then why not Mark and Ellie Fallen? she wondered.
Mark just said that Ellie was the only one that tried to help him. Maybe he saw that as an act of kindness and left them off of his kill list.
“Are you sure you don’t remember the man’s name?” Mackenzie asked.
“No. I’m sorry. I was about to say that I think Alexa might know it, but this was right after she took over. She was at the event but I don’t even think she saw any of it.”
“How about any other couples he might have been involved with?”
Mark shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. But I’m pretty sure he and his wife swung with this one couple a few times—the Vaughans.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it through Alexa or DCM?”
“DCM, I think. This guy never showed up to Alexa’s events again.”
Mackenzie started to connect the dots in her head. She now had a potential lead on the killer (assuming Alexa had a name) as well as another couple that could be in serious danger. It felt like a very dangerous equation, but at least she was getting somewhere now.
“Thank you very much for your time,” she said, standing and moving instantly for the door.
“This is terrible,” Mark said, following slowly behind her. “Do you think the Vaughans are in trouble?”
Almost definitely, she thought.
But what she said was: “I don’t know. But if they are, I think your willingness to answer my questions might keep them safe.”
She left his house feeling like she might have lied to him, but more determined than ever to make sure she had told him the truth.
Marching back to her car, she ca
lled Alexa once again. This time, Alexa answered on the first ring and did not sound tired at all.
“Hi, Agent White. Any news?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I just spoke with Mark Fallen. He told me an account from an event you held in a hotel two years ago. There was some sort of altercation and—”
“Yes, I remember. That was my first official event. If you want to call it that. I think Jack Springs lost his temper and hit someone.”
“Mark tells it a little differently. He says this guy got really mad. He was having sexual problems and got really upset. Started freaking people out. Do you remember the name of this guy?”
Alexa was quiet for a moment, apparently realizing what this could mean. She then gave Mackenzie a name and when she did, even her tone of voice indicated that they had likely stumbled upon the identity of the killer.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Byron Decker watched the couple from behind the wheel of his small-bodied pickup truck. He’d been watching them for a while, really. Three months, in fact.
Damn, he thought. Has it really been three months?
This couple was the last. This would be the end of his work. Finally, he would be able to live his life free of the ridicule and pain that had shadowed him for the past two years.
While he had indeed been watching them for three months, Decker still wasn’t exactly sure what they did for work. Whenever the man left the house, he was dressed in either a nice suit, complete with a tie, or mesh shorts and a tank top for his morning and afternoon runs (depending on the day of the week). And when the woman left the house, she was normally dressed in casual attire. Neither of them came and went with any regularity, making Decker think they either both worked from home or the man did some sort of banking or trading nonsense—something that caused him to dress nice from time to time, but also allowed him to come and go as he pleased, at whatever hours best suited him.
This couple had been tricky to pinpoint. With the other couples, there had at least been some regularity to their schedules. After a few weeks, he’d been able to strike with confidence. But this couple…they were liked flies. They buzzed around whenever they wanted. Last month they had left for nine days straight, apparently on some sort of vacation if the suitcases they’d carried out behind them were any indication.
They’d both come out together earlier today. They’d left in their expensive car and then come back home three hours later. Now, shortly before noon, they were pottering around in the front yard, trimming up the landscaping. It was such a domesticated thing to do—both pretentious and cute all at the same time. The husband was carrying bags of mulch while the woman was trimming weeds out of the large flower beds. She was dressed in such a way that made him think she either wasn’t sure how to dress for yard work or simply didn’t care if she got her cutesy tight little clothes dirty.
He’d seen them before, of course. He’d seen them naked, at their most vulnerable. And seeing them now, perfectly happy and tending to their stupid lawn, infuriated him.
I could kill them right now, he thought. I could walk by like any pedestrian or loser out walking. And it would be over.
As tempting as it was, he knew he had to keep his cool. He’d been waiting for this to end for nearly two years now—first summoning the courage and then spending this last week going to each of the couples and killing them. To ruin it now would mean everything else he had done would be fruitless…meaningless.
Besides…this was the last house, the last couple. He was parked two blocks down, watching them. For the last few months, he had been dividing his time between the five different houses, watching the couples come and go. He’d learned their schedules and, in some cases, had even watched to see where the spare key was hidden.
In the end, he had relied on good old human kindness to get inside. He had knocked on the doors he had not been able to get the keys to. They had all recognized his face at once. The Kurtzes and the Carlsons had nearly shut the door in his face. But his pleas to simply let him speak, to hear him out, had won them over. He had given fake apologies for his behavior two years ago in the hotel. The only kink in the plan had been the Springses. He’d nearly been unable to get onboard the ship and ended up dropping two grand to get a ticket—which was refunded when he faked sick and claimed to no longer be able to make the trip.
He figured that might end up getting him in trouble—a surefire red flag for the cops to pursue sometime in the very near future. But by then, he planned on being in Mexico. An old lover of his lived in Juarez and had a nice little place where he could get drunk on Mexican beer every day.
But first, this couple. The Vaughans.
He’d move in tonight. Since they were the last couple, he wouldn’t have to be as careful. Sure, he’d still stage them and posture them like the others. But if he was a little messier than usual, that would be okay. The moment he was done with them, he was going to be gone. By the time the police had the chance to figure out what had happened, he’d be crossing the border.
It made him want to act now. With the others, he’d waited until he was pretty sure they were nearly in bed. Or, in the case of the Sterlings, a few moments after he knew they’d turned the lights out and gone to bed.
But with the Vaughans, he wasn’t sure he could wait until then. The neighborhood was mostly quiet. If he acted quickly, no one would even see him. He’d blend right in to the neighborhood. There was nothing suspicious about him, nor anything about his appearance that stood out.
Do it, he thought. Just do it now and be done with it.
God, it was tempting.
But he had to at least wait until they were inside. He couldn’t very well kill them out in their yard, in plain daylight.
Fine, he thought. I’ve waited nearly two years. I even lost a wife to this little crusade. I can wait a few more hours.
So that’s what he did.
Byron Decker sat in his pickup, gripping the wheel tight in his hands, waiting for the right moment to strike and end his killing spree.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Mackenzie could barely even remember being exhausted earlier in the morning. Ellington making the wise demand that she get some rest very late at night was a distant memory. Because as she headed back for the precinct and called Ellington, she was suddenly wired. She felt this case coming to a close. More than that, she felt time pushing against her like a tide as she did everything she could to ensure that a fifth couple was not killed.
Ellington’s voice chimed in her ear as he answered the phone. “Hey,” he said. His voice was neither dry nor cheerful. He was clearly still upset but getting over it.
“I spoke to Alexa again this morning,” she said. “She told me about another couple that was connected to all of the murdered couples. I just finished speaking with the husband and he told me about this guy…a very angry man that was also connected to all of the dead couples. A guy that was ridiculed and maybe even humiliated. And he just happens to be the ex-husband of the woman that ran the swinging club before Alexa took over.”
There was a long pause.
“Do you have a name for this guy?”
“Byron Decker. I also got the name of a fifth couple that is directly related to this guy and his issues. Someone needs to find them to keep an eye out. I don’t have first names.”
“One second,” he said. “Rodriguez is right here. I’m putting you on speaker. So it sounds like we need to get an address for this Byron Decker and then search for this couple. You got a last name?”
“Vaughan. I guess we can run through the member lists from DCM, Tidal Hills, and Alexa’s list. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Sounds good,” Ellington said. “You coming back here while we churn all this stuff together?”
“Yeah. I’m about half an hour away.”
She ended the call, finding that she was quite glad that she’d be back in Ellington’s company soon. It was more than just partnering with him and having him ride shotgun as the
y hopefully brought this case to a close. It was because she knew she worked better with him. She knew that her logic seemed to be sharper and she was always trying to do her absolute best. Not that she didn’t feel at her best on her own; it was just better to be her best with Ellington.
She merged onto the interstate and raised her speed to ninety. The thrill of the hunt pushed her on. The bright blue Miami sky suddenly seemed vibrant and full of promise. And while she could not hear the sea from where she was, she could sense it in the distance, wide and endless, the waves crashing along the shore as if urging her on.
***
There was a stirring of excitement in the precinct when Mackenzie sprinted inside. Rodriguez, Dagney, and Nestler were gearing up and going over the details of the next few hours. She admired the way they worked—a well-oiled machine, making sure every cog was in its right place. Ellington stood with them and when he set his eyes on Mackenzie, he gave her a smile.
“We got addresses?” Mackenzie asked.
“We got one for Byron Decker,” Rodriguez said. “We’re still working on getting the names and address for a Vaughan couple tied to DCM or Tidal Hills.”
“Good, let’s get going.”
“One second,” Ellington said. “Come with me really quickly, would you?” He looked very serious as he took her by the arm and led her down the hall.
“Yeah. What is it?”
He held up a finger, telling her to wait a moment, as they hurried to the small conference room. He ushered her inside and closed the door behind them. He turned to her, saying nothing, and kissed her.
Frustration tried its best to rear its head. What the hell is he doing? We’re in a hurry and there’s no time for this.
But her heart and body gave in. She sank into the kiss and returned it. It was a brief one that was broken after about five seconds. When he stepped back, he sighed and smiled at her again. “Sorry,” he said. “I had to. This morning…yeah, I maybe pushed too hard and—”
“And I was being a bitch. We were both in the wrong there. Water under the bridge.”