Mackenzie White 10-Before He Longs

by Pierce, Blake

  He then went to the farthest bin to the right and opened it up. He reached inside and took out the gags and bailing wire. He looked back at the shape of Daisy’s head beneath his sweatshirt.

  And then he reached into another bin, pulling out three dolls. He set them up against the bins, facing Daisy.

  This was the fun part. He always liked to let his children watch. It motivated him and they seemed to enjoy it.

  He spoke to them as he removed the sweatshirt and tightened the ball gag around Daisy’s head. He told them all about his plans for Daisy, of how he knew just where he would put the body. And if they were good, he’d let a few of them stay with her to watch her die.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Mackenzie had never had a panic attack, but she thought this might be what it felt like. Once she and Ellington had returned to the police department, she had made a direct line toward the restroom. She’d heard Ellington calling out for her as they entered the building, but she ignored him. In the restroom, she locked herself in a stall and took a series of long, shaky breaths.

  She tried to center her thoughts, to keep herself from slipping into despair.

  It’s just a hunch, she told herself. You don’t know for sure.

  That was true. But she needed to find out before she pushed too hard against Ellington. In the meantime, maybe she even needed to apologize to him.

  Once she felt that she had properly collected herself, she checked herself in the mirror. She looked worn out and defeated; it was the type of paleness that makeup just wasn’t going to be able to fix. She turned away from her reflection and headed back out into the department hallway. She made it no more than five steps before Rising caught up with her.

  “Just a quick update for you,” he said. “Of the fifty-two storage complexes within the city and a grid of twenty-five miles surrounding the city limits, thirty of them have been contacted. Most of them were more than happy to close their gates. There were a few that gave some pushback, though. They refused to close but those that have security cameras agreed to allow us access if needed.”

  “Can we get a list of the ones that aren’t willing to close?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Yeah, we’re keeping tabs. So far it’s only six, though.”

  “A pretty good percentage. Has anyone bothered to start looking into any recent missing persons cases? Particularly for young women between the ages of eighteen and forty?”

  “Yes. We’ve been keeping tabs on that ever since the second body was discovered.”

  “Great. Thanks again for the help, Deputy.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, Agent White…are you okay? You look ill.”

  “No, I’m good. This case is just getting to me. Have you heard about what we found in that last unit this morning?”

  “Raccoon,” Rising said. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  He seemed to take that as his cue to leave her alone. He gave her a little nod of appreciation and broke away from her. Mackenzie, meanwhile, continued down to the conference room. Ellington and three officers were working on the list of storage units, listing them on the whiteboard and then marking them off.

  As Mackenzie sat down, she looked at the list and wondered if there was any relevance to the units the killer was using. Was he placing the women in the particular units for a specific reason or was it all random? It might be something worth looking into.

  Ellington looked at her and tapped at the board. “The police have already spoken to over half of the local storage complex owners.”

  “Rising filled me in on my way in,” she said. “They’re making remarkable progress.”

  “I’m thinking we need to get at least one police unit over to each of the locations that are refusing to close up shop. It’s worth mentioning, though, that out of the locations that are refusing to close, only one of them has a client by the name of Mark Riley. There are already two officers on their way to personally speak with the owner and to canvass the location.”

  “We’re also working on collecting the names of each location that has that name in their files,” one of the officers said. “Even if they’ve agreed to close up until this case is closed.”

  Mackenzie nodded, though she felt that this was starting to get out of hand. There were lots of moving pieces now. And while that was a good thing, it was also a lot to keep up with—more cracks for things to fall through.

  Mackenzie thought about the boxes of dolls at the house they’d searched through. She thought of those dead glassy eyes staring at her from the doghouse. She seriously thought about going back to that house and digging through those boxes. If the killer seemed to find some sort of importance or relevance to the dolls, maybe that was where they needed to look. Maybe there was something staring at them—no pun intended—right in the face.

  Before she could get a good hold on that thought, the conference room door opened. A very excited-looking Deputy Rising came rushing in.

  “A call came in two minutes ago. A concerned mother placed a missing persons report out on her daughter. Twenty-two-year-old Daisy Walker.”

  Mackenzie was already on her feet when she asked: “Missing since when?”

  “At least one o’clock yesterday afternoon.”

  Mackenzie and Ellington locked eyes across the room. He tossed the dry-erase marker he had been holding to the nearest officer and joined Mackenzie as she headed for the door.

  Blood leaking out of a unit and now a fairly warm missing persons case, Mackenzie thought. If this missing person is related to the killer, he’s messing up. He’s getting lazy. Or cocky.

  The mere idea of this did nothing more than anger Mackenzie even further. She welcomed it now, using it to fuel her and push her on as she and Ellington headed outside in pursuit of what would hopefully turn out to be a promising lead.

  ***

  When they arrived at the address of Daisy Walker’s parents, Mackenzie and Ellington found the mother, Shelby, sitting on the front porch. She was smoking a cigarette with the posture and expression of someone who didn’t do it often. Shelby Walker eyed them skeptically as they walked up her sidewalk to the front porch.

  “You the police?” she asked.

  “FBI,” Mackenzie said, showing her ID. “I’m Agent White and this is Agent Ellington.”

  “Why is the FBI here?” Shelby asked, suddenly more nervous than she had originally appeared. “Is my baby in some sort of trouble?”

  “We certainly hope not,” Mackenzie said. “If you could answer some questions for us, we can hopefully find out sooner rather than later. We’re in town looking into a case that has us looking into any missing persons cases involving women around your daughter’s age.”

  “Oh my God,” Shelby said. She started to tremble and suddenly tossed the cigarette into the yard as if it had come alive and bitten her.

  “There’s no need to assume the worst,” Ellington said.

  “That’s right,” Mackenzie agreed. “Some of your answers could very well easily eliminate her from this case.”

  “Okay,” Shelby said. She sat down in the rocker behind her and looked out to the street. “I tried to tell myself that I was stupid to call the police. Daisy is twenty-two years old. So what if she goes out of touch for a day or so. But…well, she was supposed to have dinner with me last night and she never showed. She never called or even texted and that is not like Daisy at all. I tried calling her boyfriend because I assumed that’s where she was, but he’s not answering his phone.”

  “How well do you know her boyfriend?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Well enough. They’ve been dating for about two years. He’s a good one. I feel safe in saying that he shouldn’t be on your list of suspicious people at all.”

  “They spend a lot of time together?” Ellington asked.

  “They spend most of their time together. They practically live together.”

  “Any idea if they had any plans yesterday?”

  “No. Brian, her boyfriend, works from
home as a freelance graphic artist. And Daisy is going to school part time while she waits tables at night. Yesterday was one of her days off and when they can arrange it, they just spend the day together. They’ll go to a movie or just run errands together. That sort of thing.”

  “What’s the boyfriend’s full name?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Brian Dixon.”

  “Can you think of anyone either of them might consider an enemy?” Mackenzie asked.

  “No. I mean, I know that Brian and his brother don’t get along…sort of estranged. But they never even talk. I think his brother lives out in Olympia somewhere.”

  “Mrs. Walker, do you happen to know if Daisy or Brian rented a storage unit anywhere in town?”

  “No, neither of them do. And neither of them need to. Brian owns his own house, something he bought off of his parents before they moved across the country. He has this messy garage that he keeps everything in. Daisy sometimes joked to him that she’s afraid to go in there because the mess will come alive and eat her.”

  “What kind of stuff is in there?” Ellington asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve only seen it once or twice. Just…everything. His lawnmower, old footballs and kites, tools, boxes of old Christmas and Halloween decorations. Things like that.”

  “Have you happened to go by there since you felt your daughter might be missing?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I drove by there, but his car wasn’t there. Daisy’s was, but they take his car everywhere.”

  “Can you give us his address?” Mackenzie asked. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to look by the boyfriend’s house although she was already certain that this was going to lead nowhere. She was pretty sure that if she and Ellington really dug into it, Brian and Daisy had decided to get the hell out of Seattle, away from what appeared to be a loving yet overprotective mother.

  “Mrs. Walker,” Ellington said, “does Daisy live with you?”

  “This is her address, yes. But she’s usually at Brian’s house.”

  “I wonder if she might have a phone or a laptop she might have left here?”

  “Yes, actually. Her laptop is still in her room. I know because I checked it to see if maybe she had left a note on it that might have pointed towards where she might be.”

  “What about a cell phone?”

  “No, I assume she has that with her. I tried using the Find Friends feature on my phone—something we used to use when I hurt my knee two years ago and she kept tabs on me when I was walking around the block to rehab it. But her phone isn’t picking up. I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”

  “Would you allow us to take the laptop with us?” Ellington asked. “Maybe if we can get someone at the PD to check it out, we can figure out some more details.”

  “And if you’ll give us her phone number,” Mackenzie added, “we’ll see if we can gather a location on where it might be.”

  “Yes, I’d be fine with all of that.” She considered something for a moment and then got up from the rocker. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she headed inside.

  “You think that’s even worth looking into?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I think it’s worth a shot. These women…to be taken in a way that allows them to be bound and gagged without being too seriously injured before the stab wound to the chest…it makes me wonder if they are going to the killer. Maybe they are meeting him somewhere for some reason or another.”

  It was a good thought and one that she felt rather silly for missing.

  Mrs. Walker came back out several seconds later, carrying Daisy’s laptop. She handed it over to Ellington almost reluctantly. “Please let me know when you find her…no matter what the result is.”

  It pained Mackenzie to see that this mother had already assumed her daughter was dead. She wanted to reassure her but knew that she could not, merely from a professional standpoint.

  “Someone will certainly be in touch as we get deeper into this,” was all she said. “In the meantime, please do contact the police if you think of anything else that might be relevant to your daughter’s whereabouts.”

  Mrs. Walker nodded as the agents took their leave. Mackenzie watched the poor lady walk back up her porch steps as she got into the car. She looked defeated—like she had already given up.

  “You think it’s connected?” Ellington asked as he got behind the wheel.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. But then again, nothing about this case has really felt right.”

  Ellington said nothing else. He cranked the car and pulled out into the street. She could tell that he was being choosy about what he said to her now, still walking on eggshells as a result of their earlier argument. Part of her was glad. She felt that she needed to explore the case deeper and she’d do a better job of that working in silence, without anyone else’s thoughts or theories getting in her way.

  We’re missing something, she thought. Maybe we’re missing a few different things. Something that’s right in front of us…but what?

  It gnawed at her as they headed back to the police station. It was the first time in her career that she actually started to wonder if they’d return to DC with the case still open—with a killer still on the loose and a puzzle left unsolved.

  It hurt to think it, but in the gloomy afternoon that stretched out ahead of them, it seemed entirely possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  If there was ever any doubt that Ellington knew her well, it was eliminated the moment they got back to the station. He left her to her thoughts, giving her the conference room while he met up with Rising and some of the other officers to continue going down the list of local storage facilities.

  With the room to herself, she took all of the records they had accumulated so far and started spreading them out on the table. When she had them in an order that made sense to her, she went to the whiteboard and started making notes. As she wrote down her notes, she began reciting facts and figures to herself, as if cramming for an exam. The thoughts streamed through her head like a flooded river, coming out through her fingers and the dry-erase marker.

  When it’s all said and done, the dolls are going to mean something. Even if it seems like a very small detail to the nature of the deaths themselves, the dolls and the tea stuff clearly mean something to the killer. But what? And why?

  Maybe the storage units are a sign that the killer likes to hide things. Maybe it’s more than just some clever way to hide bodies that he kills. Is there an inherent symbolism there or is it something psychological that he’s not even aware of? Hiding things…storing them as if they were valuable, like personal belongings…something like that.

  But why in storage units? Why something so public and small and…

  Mackenzie paused for a moment. She stared at the board, looking at the notes she had jotted down. There was something there, something in the last thought that might be worth digging into…

  She went back to the files and read over the preliminary facts and figures. She stopped at the file depicting the scene at U-Store-It. She scanned the first page and found what she was looking for.

  Unit measurements, 10 x 8.

  She remembered thinking how the units there had been rather small—especially considering just how large the place had been.

  She then looked at the very first stack of papers that made up the file for the scene that had started this all for them: Quinn Tuck’s Seattle Storage Solutions. It had been a decent-looking place but what’s more, she had left there thinking the units had looked rather tiny. She looked to the details of the case and found the size: 8x8.

  She was well aware that it could mean nothing, but she was willing to grasp at even the smallest straw now. She looked back over to the file for U-Store-It and found Ralph Underwood’s number. She called it up and was pleased when he answered on the second ring.

  “This is U-Store-It,” he answered.

  “Mr. Underwood, this is Agent White with the FBI.”

  “Oh. Hi. Loo
k, I’ve already closed the place until further notice,” he said, clearly irritated. “What else do you need from me?”

  “I just had some questions about storage units. I was wondering if all of your units are eight-by-eight in size.”

  “No. I have a few economy-sized ones. I offer several sizes, all the way up to twenty-by-sixteen.”

  “And what would you say the average storage unit size is?”

  “Probably ten-by-fifteen. From what I’ve seen, most of them come in that size.”

  “So would the eight-by-eight units you have be considered small?”

  “Yeah. They make them smaller, but not a lot of facilities carry them. They’re pretty useless.”

  “What about other facilities in the city? Do you think most of them stick with that average size of ten-by-fifteen?”

  “I’d think so. But there are a few that do like I do—offer a few different sizes.”

  Mackenzie thought about this for a moment, nodding to herself as a theory started to take shape.

  “Do you know the smallest that are offered?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve seen them as small as around seven-by-five.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Underwood.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For now, yes. Thanks again for your help.”

  She ended the call and once again went back to the files. As she found what she needed, she jotted it up on the whiteboard. As she wrote down what she needed, a knock sounded at the door. It opened slowly as Ellington walked in.

  “How you doing?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure if he meant in regards to the case or their little argument, so she only shrugged. “I think I might have an avenue to check out. Could be nothing, but in a case this odd and frustrating, I’m willing to try just about anything.”

  “What’ve you got? I hope it’s better than my news. It does appear that we won’t be able to find Daisy’s phone. It’s either dead or out of service.”

  “Yeah, mine’s better.”