Before He Sees (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 2) Read online

  “Well, she was carrying a case, like the kind salespeople carry around. Not like a briefcase, but a tacky case, you know? She sold stuff for a living—like health supplements and things like that. I was guessing she had a customer she was seeing.”

  “Do you know which bus she got on after yours?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Well, I don’t recall the number of the bus, but I remember seeing Black Mill Street up on the destination indicator in the windshield. I thought that was pretty sketchy…no reason for that pretty little thing to be going to that part of town.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, the neighborhood itself is okay, I guess. The houses aren’t too bad and I think most of the folks are decent people. But it’s one of those places where the not-so nice people hang around and do their business. When I was trained for this job six years ago, they filled the drivers in on places to keep an eye out for danger. Black Mill Street was one of them.”

  Mackenzie thought all of this over and realized that they had gotten all of the valuable information there was to get from Michael Garmond. She wanted to seem efficient in front of Bryers but she also didn’t want to seem as if she wasted time on trivial details.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Garmond,” Mackenzie said.

  From the desk, Mrs. Percell added: “The stop at Dupont Circle was at eight forty-eight, Agents.”

  When they turned and made their exit, they were quiet until they made it back to the stairs. When they started climbing them, it was Bryers who broke the silence.

  “How long have you been in Quantico?” he asked.

  “Eleven weeks.”

  “So you’re probably not familiar with the outskirts of the city, huh?”

  “No.”

  “Never been up to Black Mill Street?”

  “Can’t say that I have,” Mackenzie said.

  “You’re not missing much. But hey, maybe we won’t have to go that far. We’ll start at Dupont Circle and have a look around. Maybe we can find something on the security cameras.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now,” Bryers said. There was an edge of annoyance to his voice, the first sign that he was beginning to tire of carting around the rookie no matter how promising she was. “When there’s a killer on the loose, we don’t really punch a clock.”

  Several retorts came to her tongue, but she kept them choked down. He was right, anyway. If she’d learned anything from her ordeal with the Scarecrow Killer, it was that when you were chasing down a killer that seemingly had no MO, every minute was precious.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dupont Circle Station was just starting to slow down from the busyness of the five o’clock afternoon rush when Mackenzie and Bryers arrived. The conversation along the way was once again surface-level and stale as Bryers remained quiet and reserved. As they stepped out of the car and walked toward the station, Mackenzie truly felt awkward for the first time. She didn’t think he resented her yet, but he was likely having second thoughts about whatever scheme he and Ellington had cooked up.

  Bryers finally cracked their silence as they entered the station. He stepped to the side of the doors and watched the crowd of people threading through the place.

  “You familiar with this place?” he asked.

  “No,” Mackenzie said. “I’ve always gone through Union Station.”

  Bryers shrugged. “It doesn’t matter which station you’re at; there’s always going to be a corner somewhere that’s a little seedier than the rest of the place. The rough part is that it’s usually well hidden.”

  “So you’re thinking she was taken on her way back home? You think someone grabbed her here when she was in between buses?”

  “It’s a possibility. What do you think?”

  “I think we should be checking Black Mill Street. You and the bus driver said the place was bad news.”

  “And we’ll probably end up there,” Bryers said. “But I’m playing a hunch here. You work this city long enough you start to accumulate a sort of hunch about certain things.”

  His cryptic talk was annoying, but she figured she could actually learn something if she could just shut up and watch. After a minute or so of standing by the doors and watching the crowd, Bryers moved slowly forward, motioning for Mackenzie to follow him. She stayed close, but not so close that she was crowding him. He walked through the crowd nonchalantly, as if he had no real purpose for being there. He blended in quite well; only someone who really took the time to study him might suspect that he was some sort of law enforcement official.

  They made their way through the main concourse and out toward where six buses were waiting. Passengers were stepping off of two of the buses while the others idled, waiting for passengers. As they headed toward the buses, Mackenzie looked at the destination indicators above the windshields. As far as she could tell, the next stops for these buses were all within the DC historic district or Georgetown.

  “Over here,” Bryers said.

  Mackenzie looked away from the buses and stayed behind Bryers as he walked further down the concourse. The buses were behind them now as the crowd thinned out a bit. Out of nowhere, the scene seemed to change simply by rounding a corner. There were fewer people in casual or business-casual attire. She saw a homeless man sitting against the wall and three teenagers dressed in mostly black, adorned with large earrings, nose piercings, and tattoos everywhere.

  Bryers slowed as they rounded this corner, again taking in the scene. Mackenzie did the same, trying to observe the layout of the place and the makeup of the people the same way he did. It only took a few seconds before she saw something that instantly put her on guard.

  A young man with a short, nearly military buzz haircut and dressed in a plain T-shirt and jeans was speaking to a girl that was surely no older than sixteen. Mackenzie knew the look on her face because it was easy to read on most girls her age: she was liking the attention the guy was giving her, but was also uncomfortable in being approached. She saw that the guy had a hand in his pocket. She was pretty sure he wasn’t packing, but there were numerous other things that he could be concealing.

  Without looking over his shoulder to speak to her, Bryers asked: “You see him?”

  “Twenty-something buzz-cut speaking to the minor?” she said.

  “Bingo.”

  Still, they did not move. Mackenzie knew why even though she already didn’t like the way the scene was playing out. Bryers was waiting for the creep to make a move—to do something that would warrant someone of Bryers’s authority to step in and intervene.

  They watched the scene unfold as they did what they could to blend in. Mackenzie felt herself wanting to surge forward as it played out predictably. The guy inched closer and closer. He was doing a lot of smiling and trying to look the girl in the eyes. She smiled back flirtatiously but looked at the ground more than she looked at him.

  Slowly, he reached out and touched her shoulder. His hand rested there for a while before the girl stepped awkwardly away. The creep followed up by laughing and then stepping into her, placing his arm around her. He tried pulling her close but the girl stepped away. A look of frustration flashed across the guy’s face before he stepped forward again, with a bit of anger this time. When he reached out to put his arm around her again, Bryers stepped forward. Mackenzie followed along, trying to make herself remain in the role of a student.

  “Is there a problem here?” Bryers asked, stepping into the girl’s path. “Is this guy harassing you?”

  The girl looked up, surprised. She looked instantly relieved but then looked back to the ground, maybe a little embarrassed.

  “I don’t think so,” the girl said. “Some guys just don’t take no for an answer.”

  “Shut up, bitch,” the crewcut guy said. He then looked directly at Bryers and said: “What business is it of yours, anyway?”

  Bryers withdrew his ID so fast that it was like watching a gunslinger go for his irons. “It’s my business in more ways than you wa
nt to imagine,” he said.

  “Oh,” crewcut said. “Well, I think I might—”

  And then he turned and ran.

  “Ah, hell,” Bryers said. He started to take off after the young man but Mackenzie couldn’t stay still any longer.

  “You stay with the girl,” she said. “I’ll get him.”

  “Are you sure?” Bryers asked. “I don’t know if—”

  “I’m sure,” she said, already starting to sprint after the suspect.

  Without looking back for confirmation from Bryers, Mackenzie dashed forward. There wasn’t much of a crowd assembled along the concourse, giving her few obstacles to contend with. Within two seconds, she knew she’d catch up to the creep easily. He was running on panic and fear while her own strides were balanced and controlled.

  The idiot even stopped to look over his shoulder, further giving her the edge. When he saw that she was on his heels, he found another gear. But by then, Mackenzie already had him. She gave an extra push, finding her own next gear, and got within arms’ reach of him. The few people standing in her way saw what was occurring and had stepped out of the way, mainly for their own safety but also to watch what might happen.

  Her hand fell on his shoulder and all it took was a hard push downward to halt him. His feet slid out from underneath him and he went to the cement sidewalk on his back. He let out a cry that was nearly comical but the hard impactful noise of his body hitting the pavement was not funny at all.

  She took a moment to gauge his condition and when she was confident he had broken nothing and was still coherent, she dropped a knee into his chest and looked back toward Bryers. He was jogging along, looking rather concerned. The girl they had perhaps rescued was striding along beside him. She looked a bit frightened but also excited. Mackenzie saw a bit of joy in her face when she spotted her would-be harasser pinned on the ground.

  All around them, a few bystanders started to applaud. Others looked slightly horrified at what they had just witnessed. Bryers flashed his badge to the gathered crowd. “Get going,” he said. “The show is over. Get moving, everyone.”

  When they started to break up and continue on their respective ways, Bryers came over to Mackenzie and dropped to a knee.

  “Up, please,” Bryers said curtly.

  Mackenzie got up, trying to gauge the expression on his face. He was angry, that much was clear. She wondered if she had been a little too rough in bringing the suspect down. Or maybe she shouldn’t have given chase without his express permission.

  As she got to her feet, Bryers slowly helped the perp to his feet. Mackenzie saw that the guy was bleeding from a small cut along the right side of his head. That side of his face was also a little red. She was positive he’d have one hell of a bruise there tomorrow.

  “Come with me for a second,” Bryers said.

  “Get your hands off of me, man!”

  Bryers grabbed the guy’s arm and drew him close. “Remember that badge I showed you? The one that sent you running like a lunatic? That badge says you listen to me or find yourself in a world of trouble. Got me?”

  “Whatever, man,” the guy said. He stopped struggling against Bryers then and allowed himself to be led away from the gathering crowd.

  Bryers cut his eyes in Mackenzie’s direction but didn’t actually look at her. It was pretty clear that he was pissed. “Check out the girl while I handle this mess,” he said.

  It was not a question, not a request…it was a demand. He was asking her to babysit while he questioned the suspect. And maybe she deserved it…but it felt awful.

  Mackenzie watched him go as she walked over to the girl. She tried to ignore Bryers’s reaction as she led the girl to a nearby bench. They sat down together but it was clear that the girl wanted to be long gone.

  “Are you okay?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “Do you know that guy?” Mackenzie asked.

  “No. He just came up to me when I got off of the bus and started talking to me.”

  “What did he talk about?”

  “Oh, he didn’t waste any time. He said how pretty I was and then asked how old I was. When I told him I was sixteen, he asked if I was looking to make some easy money.”

  “Do you have a parent around here anywhere?”

  “Not here, no. I’m visiting my dad. Mom tossed me on a bus to visit him for the weekend. But dear old Dad is working late. So I was going to have to catch a cab from here.”

  “What’s your name?” Mackenzie asked.

  The girl looked suspiciously at her but gave her name anyway…or what she wanted them to think her name was. “Jen,” she said.

  “Well, how about we call you that cab, Jen?” Mackenzie asked.

  Jen looked at her like she was stupid. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Mackenzie pulled out her phone and started to dial when Jen stopped her.

  “That guy…do you think he would have hurt me if you guys hadn’t showed up?”

  “There’s no way to know for sure,” Mackenzie said.

  “Well, thanks.”

  Mackenzie nodded and placed the call to the cab company. When the phone started ringing in her ear, she looked back over to Bryers. She saw that he’d placed the suspect in handcuffs and had him pressed against the wall. Bryers, meanwhile, was on his phone to call it in.

  And maybe, Mackenzie thought, to complain about my carelessness with a suspect.

  And just like that, Mackenzie started to feel this amazing opportunity she had been handed slipping right out of her hands.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When Mackenzie finally arrived at her apartment, she closed the door behind her and simply stood there for a moment. The final eight hours of her day had been surreal—like some of the dreams she’d had in high school of becoming an FBI agent had finally been granted and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. More than that, she also felt the threat of it all being torn out from under her because of a split second’s poor judgment.

  And behind it all was the case. Whether she remained on it or not remained to be seen, but there was still someone out there that had killed two women and tossed them aside in public landfills. If she was taken off of the case after getting a peek into the case without the chance to properly solve it, she wasn’t sure how she’d react.

  With a shuddering sigh, she stepped into the apartment. She looked at the few boxes of things she had not yet unpacked—they were pushed into the far corner of the living room where she guessed she’d one day put a TV—assuming she stayed in Quantico after the tumultuous afternoon she’d had. She had planned on unpacking those three boxes tonight but was too tired…yet, at the same time, far too exhilarated to even think about unpacking boxes of belongings containing items from what she was already thinking of as her old life.

  With her wits once again regained, she placed the folder Bryers had given her on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was still littered with a few things that had been unpacked but not yet put away. She figured there was no sense in assuming she’d be yanked from the case. It was better to be proactive rather than brooding and defeated.

  Besides…Bryers had been his usual quiet self on the way back from the station. The suspect had been taken into custody and that was all that she knew. If any information had come forth about the suspect, his history, or what he had planned to do with sixteen-year-old Jen, no one had bothered to inform her.

  Mackenzie started looking through the scant information on the body of Susan Kellerman and the other body that had been discovered three months before, a nineteen-year-old named Shanda Elliot.

  But she couldn’t even keep her mind focused enough for that. She would look at the facts in front of her and then try to make sense of how her life had drastically changed in the last half a day or so. She toyed with putting on some coffee, but it was nearly nine o’clock by that point and she wanted to make sure she was good and rested for tomorrow.

  Bryers had asked her to meet h
im in the reception area at the FBI Building, which was, in and of itself, a pretty big deal. The fact that he wanted to meet her at eight o’clock to start the day as soon as possible meant something else though…what, she wasn’t sure. But she got the feeling that if today was a test of sorts, tomorrow would yield that test’s results.

  With one final scan of the material in the folder, she decided to call it a night. She closed the folder, set it to the side (away from the scattered detritus of her former life), and stood up from the couch. As she made her way to the small bedroom she had learned to call home over the last several months, her cell phone started ringing. It was in her hand when it rang and the suddenness of it made her jump, proving that she did indeed need to catch up on her sleep.

  She looked at the display and saw that it was Zack calling. It was funny, but it actually took her about two seconds to make a connection—and it made her feel wonderful.

  Zack? Who is Z—oh yeah, him…

  They’d spoken only twice since she moved: once during her very brief time in Dallas and once about three months ago. Both conversations had been depressing and filled with accusations and pity from Zack’s end. He had moaned about their need to move on while also talking about how she had been a coward for running away like she had. He hadn’t said as much, but she had deciphered the true meaning behind it all; she had wounded his stupid male pride because how dare a woman so badly alter the course of his lazy and lackluster life? He was heartbroken and had no idea how to handle it because he’d never made himself open and vulnerable.

  She ignored the call and breathed a sigh of relief when she did not hear the beep to let her know that she had a new voicemail.

  She went into the bedroom, headed into the even smaller bathroom, and got ready for bed. As she settled under the sheets moments later, she thought of Zack for a moment and how easy it was to escape the ghosts of your past so long as you were able to control the frequency of their haunting.

  Of course, she also knew that there were sometimes ghosts that hung on forever, until they felt like someone latched to your back, dragging you down and reminding you that they’d be there forever and there was no hope for escape.