BEFORE HE LAPSES Page 6

  She laughed softly against his chest and hugged him. “Waddling?”

  “I wasn’t sure what word to use. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It was cute.”

  She kissed him softly and took his hands. “I’m beyond exhausted. But I think if you get creative, you can maybe find a way for me to stay awake for a while longer. If you want.”

  Ellington’s only response was finding the overlap of the towel at her back and pulling it undone. As it fell to the floor, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom where, as Mackenzie had suggested, he did indeed keep her awake for a good while longer.

  ***

  Perhaps it was finally solving her father’s murder roughly a year ago, but her nightmares and dreams had stopped featuring those rustic old cornfields that had haunted her back in Nebraska. Now, whenever her mind slipped into a dream, it was less vivid and almost fluid in a way. She had always had incredibly vivid dreams and the ones she could remember were as clear as the memories of movies or TV shows in her head.

  Sometime after she fell asleep after being utterly satisfied by Ellington, Mackenzie dreamt that she was standing in a large room. The room was the size of a concert hall and only contained two pieces of furniture: a rocking chair and a bassinet. The sound of a baby crying was coming from the bassinet, echoing through the enormous room so that it nearly sounded like thunder.

  Mackenzie ran across the room but she never seemed to get any closer to the bassinet. The baby continued to cry, now escalating into high-pitched screams. She had not been around many babies in her time but she could tell the difference between cries meaning that the baby needed to be changed or was hungry and cries of terror.

  She finally reached the bassinet, gasping and out of breath. When she looked inside, there was no baby. Instead, the entire inside was covered in blood. She reached in to touch it and found it still wet and warm. She then raised the blood to her face, examining it closely, as if she had never seen it before. And as she did, the blood ran down her fingers, dribbling over the new shiny wedding band on her ring finger.

  “Mac?”

  She turned around and saw Ellington. He was holding a baby. It did not appear to be moving and it was most certainly not crying. “What happened?” Ellington asked. “Oh my God, Mac, what happened?”

  Mackenzie ran toward him, screaming now. And when she reached him, she looked to the baby and saw—

  She sat up in bed with a little cry.

  Ellington still slept soundly beside her and the hotel room was mostly quiet with the exception of the humming heater against the wall. She gazed at the bedside clock and saw that it was 3:55. She’d fallen asleep shortly after ten, giving her about six hours of sleep. She was sure that wasn’t enough to be fully recharged but she also knew that finding sleep after that doozy of a nightmare was going to be next to impossible.

  She felt her stomach, as if assuring herself it had just been a dream. She knew that it was far too early in the pregnancy, but she found herself wishing that the baby would kick or stir some way.

  To get her mind off of the panic and worry the dream had caused, Mackenzie focused on the current case. William Holland had left a bad taste in her mouth, and even though she felt confident he was not at all involved in the murders, something about him seemed to point to something else—some clue or lead that she could not quite identify. Perhaps speaking to his girlfriend would help in that regard.

  She then thought of the victims, going through a little comparison chart in her head. Her eyes were closed, trying to both sort through her thoughts and fall asleep all at once. She listened to the hum of the heater, focused on her breathing, and zoned out in a lazy sort of meditation.

  Both women were strangled. The killer slept with Jo before strangling her. Why not Christine? What changed? There was no sign of actual penetration, but there was physical evidence on her underwear that she had been at the very least in a state of arousal upon her death. So they are linked but there are also differences.

  The victims were sexually attracted to this man. Maybe he was even using sex as a lure for them. That’s why they allowed him in. These are planned murders. And maybe murders of passion…or simple control.

  Intercourse with the first victim and not the second indicates that perhaps he found the act of sex a waste of time…or unnecessary. Therefore, maybe it’s not entirely power and control he wants. Not having sex with Christine could mean that he learned some lessons that first time with Jo. Maybe he’s being quicker…more careful. Maybe he only wants the deaths now…not the lead up to it.

  She pondered all of this and was surprised to feel sleep sneaking back up on her. She was fine with that. Her little thinking session had pointed her toward a few solid assumptions about their killer.

  He’s being invited in by these women; they are openly welcoming him before he kills them. He’s also new to murder. He’s learning as he goes, finding out what he is capable of and what he enjoys—what he has time for and what is too time consuming. And if he’s still learning and feels as if he’s in a hurry when he’s in the act, he’s bound to make a mistake sooner rather than later. He’s likely already made one…we just need to find out what it is.

  That was the final thought on her mind as she drifted off back to sleep. It was enough to make her feel confident about the next day or so. But she also knew that with a slew of students returning to campus the following day, she and Ellington would have their work cut out for them.

  CHAPTER TEN

  At eight o’ clock the following morning, Mackenzie and Ellington were sitting on a bench in the hallway of Queen Nash’s political science department. There was a closed door directly to their right, a black placard just beneath the tinted glass that read CHARLES McMAHON. Mackenzie had made a call earlier, setting up a meeting with McMahon as early as possible. While she had done that, Ellington had been speaking on the phone with Agent Yardley back in DC, finding out that William Holland had a squeaky clean record.

  Ellington sipped from a cup of coffee they had picked up at a nearby shop on the way to campus. He grimaced and sighed. “This would taste so much better if we were sitting by a dying campfire in Iceland.”

  Mackenzie didn’t have the heart to tell him that the coffee he had prepared by that beloved campfire had tasted like burnt coffee beans, so she only nodded and sipped from her own cup.

  A few seconds later, a man came walking quickly in their direction. Students had been walking up and down the halls all morning, but this was the first person they had seen who was clearly a member of the faculty. He gave them both a nod and a smile as he approached the door, digging in the side pocket of a laptop bag that was slung over his shoulder. This, apparently, was Charles McMahon.

  “Sorry,” he said, pulling a set of keys out of the pocket of the laptop bag. “The first day back after winter break is always a little rushed. And then I got your call and that just added to it all…”

  “It’s okay,” Mackenzie said. “We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice.”

  Still flustered, McMahon unlocked his door and stepped inside. “Come on in,” he said.

  As Mackenzie and Ellington took the pair of seats in front of his desk, McMahon set about getting things in order. As he did so, he spoke to them as best he could. After he slid his laptop out of the bag and up onto his desk, he did his best to give them his undivided attention.

  “On the phone, you said you might need my help again,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well,” Mackenzie said, “we spoke to William Holland. He admitted that he is indeed having a relationship with a student and it is why he quit his job. We asked for his girlfriend’s information and he was very defensive.”

  “He seemed to forget that we work for the FBI,” Ellington remarked. “And that we can get the information other ways. We were hoping that other way would be you.”

  “I’ll do my best. What information do you need?”

  “All we know i
s the woman’s first name. Melissa. We were hoping you could help us figure out who that is. We assume she was once a student that was using Holland as an advisor.”

  “That would be a safe bet,” McMahon said. “I do know that the relationship is fairly recent. Based on the gossip, anyway.”

  “No more than a year based on what Holland told us,” Ellington said. “Is there any way you can look back over his records for names of students to find a name for us?”

  “The best I can do is go over the list of students that were transferred to me after Holland quit. If you need anything more than that, you’ll have to go way over my head. Give me one second and I can look through the names.”

  Mackenzie and Ellington waited patiently as McMahon stopped in mid-setup to log into his computer and find the information. He worked quickly, humming under his breath as he did so. Mackenzie thought he had a slight edge of irritation to him, his holiday break no doubt hampered by the fact that he had a much larger workload thanks to Holland and his extracurricular activities.

  After about two minutes of searching, McMahon started to jot down something on a nearby notepad. “I’ve got two Melissas that came to me from Holland’s group,” he said. “One is a freshman and the other is a junior.”

  “Holland said his girlfriend is twenty-one,” Mackenzie said. “Is it safe to assume, then, that it’s not the freshman?”

  “Yeah, that’s a very safe bet.” McMahon slid the sheet of notepad paper he had been scribbling on over to them. “Her name is Melissa Evington. This is the phone number I have on file for her.”

  Mackenzie took it and placed it in her pocket. “Can you recall ever meeting with her before the winter break?”

  “Honestly, I don’t. I can look back through my schedule to make sure, but I saw so many kids because of what got dumped on me from Holland…”

  “That’s quite all right,” Ellington said. “The name and the number are more than enough.”

  “Good,” said McMahon. “Hopefully she’ll be of some help.” He paused here and then added: “Agents…is this something that we need to alert the students about? I know these murders didn’t happen on campus, but still…”

  “It’s a little too early to make any sort of formal announcement,” Mackenzie said. “But the local PD will ultimately make that decision.”

  McMahon nodded, but slowly, as if he wasn’t the biggest fan of that answer. And honestly, Mackenzie understood. Women were being killed by a man they apparently trusted; she felt that the student population should know about it sooner rather than later. But if panic could be avoided, she was all for that as well.

  Yet another reason to wrap this thing as quickly as possible, she thought as she and Ellington left the office of Charles McMahon.

  ***

  They managed to catch Melissa Evington later in the day in between classes and appointments. Mackenzie had called the number McMahon had given her and squared things away. From that brief conversation, Mackenzie felt as if they might be walking into a lost cause.

  When they met her in a little café within the student commons, Melissa Evington looked pissed off. When she spotted Mackenzie and Ellington sitting together, she walked toward them and seemed to go out of her way to let them know she was being inconvenienced.

  As Melissa came over to them, Mackenzie wondered why she would be messing around with a man nearly twenty-five years older than her. She was absolutely gorgeous, even through her over-acted anger. She was the kind of young woman who had the looks to make women like Mackenzie—not quite ten years older than her—long for her youth, wondering what opportunities she might have missed.

  “I hate to be a bitch,” Melissa said, “but I can give you maybe ten minutes. I’ve got to meet with a peer group in half an hour to nail down an assignment.”

  “If you answer our questions without any reservations,” Ellington said, “ten minutes should be plenty.”

  “You said it was about my relationship with William,” she said. “I assure you, it’s a consenting relationship. And no, I’m not with him for a good grade, as some people seem to think.”

  “We’ve spoken with him, too,” Mackenzie said. “And based on what he said, it does seem to be a solid relationship. What we need to ask you, though, is if you know whether or not he’s done this before.”

  “This? You mean dating a student?”

  Mackenzie nodded.

  “No. He hasn’t. He was married, then got divorced. I’m not quite sure how much time passed between the divorce being finalized and he and I dating.”

  “Do you know why he and his wife divorced?” Ellington asked.

  “She wanted kids and he didn’t.”

  “You know that for certain?” Mackenzie asked.

  “It’s what he told me. Look…what do you think he’s doing?”

  Mackenzie leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Two students have been murdered in the span of the last ten days. They both seemed to have been killed by men they knew well. Well enough to engage in sexual activities with them. The kicker here is that both women were being advised by William Holland.”

  Melissa looked as if someone had slapped her hard across the face. “And that makes him a suspect?”

  “Well, it seems coincidental. But then when you add in the fact that he’s currently dating a twenty-one-year-old—right around the same age as the other women—yes, it sort of makes him worth looking into.”

  Melissa’s anger slid back toward irritation and then the reality of what Mackenzie had said dawned on her. “Two students? Can you tell me their names?”

  “Jo Haley and Christine Lynch.”

  Melissa sat back hard in her chair. Some of the color went right out of her face. “Christine? You’re sure?”

  “Yes. You knew her, I take it?”

  “I did. She was in two of my classes last semester.”

  “Do you know anything about her or her circle of friends?” Ellington asked.

  “No. I just know she was dating some guy that lives around here. I think she was also from somewhere out in California. But I…Jesus, I don’t believe it.”

  “What about Jo Haley?” Mackenzie asked. “Did you know her?”

  “No, I don’t recognize the name.”

  Mackenzie was about to follow up with another question but her phone rang instead. She answered it and turned away from the table for privacy.

  “This is Agent White.”

  “Agent White, this is Deputy Wheeler. I thought you and your partner might want to know that someone came forward this morning…said they live in the same building Christine Lynch lived in. She’s got some details from that night I think you might want to hear.”

  “Who’s the witness? You got a number or address?”

  “Oh, she’s still right here at the precinct. I asked if she’d be willing to wait to speak to you.”

  “Give us half an hour. Thanks, Wheeler.”

  She ended the call and turned back to Melissa. Ellington was still speaking with her so she let him run the course. “Do you remember Mr. Holland ever speaking about either Jo or Christine? Even something just in passing?”

  “No. Or, if he did, I just didn’t really pay much attention to it.”

  Mackenzie reached under the table and gave Ellington’s knee a little squeeze, a sign that it was time to wrap the conversation.

  “Well, we know you’re very busy on this first day back from break,” Mackenzie said. “So we’ll let you get back to it. Thank you for your time.”

  “Sure…sure,” Melissa said, still clearly rocked by the news of the two murders. She got up and left the table, taking one look back as if she didn’t quite trust the agents.

  “Who was the call from?” Ellington asked.

  “Deputy Wheeler,” she said, getting to her feet. “We’ve got a witness from the night Christine Lynch was killed.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know,” she said as they stood up to leave.

  Macke
nzie took two steps before she felt a quick wash of fatigue sweep over her. For a split second, she felt incredibly dizzy and there was a slight feeling of vertigo that seemed to pass all the way through her body.

  She paused, holding herself against a nearby table. You’ve got to remember that you’re pregnant, she told herself. You’re investigating for two now.

  “Mac? You okay?” Ellington was at her side at once, clearly concerned.

  “Yeah.”

  “I love you…but don’t bullshit me.”

  “I’m fine. I just stood up too fast and got disoriented.”

  “Would it have happened if there wasn’t a human being growing inside of you?” he asked with a snarky tone.

  “Probably not.”

  He eyed her with caution and took her hand. “Please take it easy. If I have to pull the protective husband card, I will. But I don’t want to argue…so if you start to feel sick, please tell me.”

  “I will. But I’m fine right now. I swear it.”

  He gave her a hesitant nod and then, still hand in hand, they left the café and headed back out into the afternoon where a potentially huge lead was waiting for them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Things were a little tense on the drive to the precinct. Mackenzie did not like the feeling that Ellington was being overprotective of her, especially not in the middle of a case. She understood it and even appreciated it but she was already seeing where his role as a husband was going to be a bit more domineering and harder to navigate than his role as a partner. It was apparently a sensation he was feeling, too. The ride to the precinct was absent of any conversation as they both sifted through their thoughts in their own way.

  When they arrived at the precinct, Deputy Wheeler was waiting for them. He looked very much on edge as he led them to the back of the building. He gave a few nods to his fellow officers here and there but seemed otherwise intensely focused on the task at hand. Mackenzie decided she liked him quite a bit—a cop who took his job seriously and approached it with a sense of pride.