Before he Kills (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1) (9 page)

Mackenzie had always loved the smell of
freshly cut wood. It went back to Christmas holidays spent with her
grandparents after her father had died. Her grandfather had heated his house
with an old wood stove and the back end of the house had always smelled of
cedar and the not entirely unpleasant smell of fresh ash.

She was reminded of that old wood stove
as she stepped out of the car and into the gravel lot of Palmer’s Lumber Yard.
To her left, a saw mill was set up, running a huge tree down a belt and toward
a saw that was roughly the size of the car she had just stepped out of. Beyond
that, several piles of freshly downed lumber waited its turn for the saw.

She took a moment to watch the process.
A loader that looked to be a mix of a small crane and a toy-grabbing machine
lifted the logs and deposited them onto an archaic-looking machine that pushed
them into a belt. From there, the logs were led directly to a saw which she
assumed was adjusted for each log by a mechanism or control panel that she
could not see from where she sat. As she turned away from this, she saw a truck
going out of the lumber yard’s exit with a trailer of crudely cut timber
stacked about twelve feet high.

Oddly enough, she thought of Zack as she
watched it all. He had applied to work at a place like this on the other end of
town right around the time he’d landed the job at the textile mill; when he’d
discovered the rotating shifts available at the mill, he’d taken it, hoping for
more time off. She thought he might have been good working with lumber; he’d
always had a knack for building things.

“Looks like hard work,” Ellington said.

“Ours is pretty rough, too,” she said,
happy to have the thoughts of Zack out of her head.

“That it is,” Ellington agreed.

In front of them, a basic concrete
building was identified only by black stenciled letters over the front door
reading OFFICE. She walked alongside Ellington to the front door and was once
again taken aback when Ellington opened the door for her. She didn’t think
she’d ever been shown such a display of chivalry or respect from anyone on the
force since the first day she’d carried a badge.

Inside, the noise from outside was
muffled to a dull roar. The office consisted of a large counter with rows of
filing cabinets behind it. The smell of cut wood permeated the place and there
seemed to be dust everywhere. A single man stood behind the counter, writing
something in a ledger as they entered. When he regarded them, it was clear that
he was a bit confused—probably by Ellington’s suit and Mackenzie’s
business-casual attire.

“Hey there,” the man behind the counter
said. “Can I help you?”

Ellington took the lead, which Mackenzie
was fine with. He’d shown her the utmost respect and had more experience than
she did. It made her wonder where Porter was. Had Nelson kept him back at the
office to go over the photos? Or was he on interview detail, maybe speaking
with Hailey Lizbrook’s co-workers?

“I’m Agent Ellington, and this is
Detective White,” Ellington said. “We’d like to speak with you for a moment
about a case we’re trying to wrap up.”

“Um, sure,” the man said, clearly still
confused. “Are you sure you have the right place?”

“Yes, sir,” Ellington said. “While we
can’t reveal the full details of the case, what I can tell you is that a pole
has been found at each of the scenes. We took a sample from the wood and our
forensics team led us here.”

“Poles?” the man asked, looking
surprised. “Are you talking about the Scarecrow Killer?”

Mackenzie frowned, not liking the fact
that this case was already becoming a staple of public conversation. If a
lonely man in a lumber yard office had heard about it, the chances were good
that news of the case was spreading like wildfire. And among it all, her face
was plastered to newspapers featuring the story.

Indeed, he looked her over, and she
thought she could see recognition in his face.

“Yes,” Ellington said. “Have you had
anyone out of the ordinary come by to purchase these poles?”

“I’d be happy to help you,” the man
behind the counter said. “But I’m afraid it’s going to be something of a rabbit
trail for you. See, I only receive and sell lumber from companies or smaller
wood yards. Anything that leaves here is usually going to another lumber yard
or to a company of some sort.”

“What sort of companies?” Mackenzie
asked.

“It depends on what kind of wood we’re
talking about,” he said. “The majority of my wood goes to construction
companies. But I also have a few clients that are into wood crafting for things
like furniture.”

“How many clients run through here in
the course of a month?” Ellington asked.

“Seventy or so on a good month,” he
said. “But the last few months have been pretty slow. So it might be easier to
find what you’re looking for.”

“One more thing,” Mackenzie said. “Do
you place any sort of markings on lumber that goes out of here?”

“For larger orders, I’ll sometimes place
a stamp on one piece per load.”

“A stamp?”

“Yeah. It’s done by a small press I have
outside. It puts the date and the name of my lumber yard on the piece.”

“But nothing engraved or carved?”

“No, nothing like that,” the man said.

“Would you be able to pull up the
records on which clients have brought pre-cut cedar poles?” Ellington asked.

“Yes, I can do that. Do you know what
size?”

“One moment,” Ellington said, reaching
for his phone, presumably to pull up the information.

“Nine feet,” Mackenzie said, pulling the
figure from memory.

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.”

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 know. 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?”