Mackenzie White 10-Before He Longs

by Pierce, Blake

  Some of the older dolls didn’t have any indication that there had once been a price tag on their bodies. But three dolls later, she found another sticky spot on a doll’s foot. Going back through the one box of dolls, she found nine that had some indication that they had once been stuck with a price tag or sticker.

  She then checked the play dishes. And there, on the very first dish she looked over—a green plastic plate with scuff marks on it—she found about a quarter portion of an old sticker. It had been torn and was slightly faded but there was enough surviving print for Mackenzie to make out what it said: DISH SET: $2

  At the very top, there was what looked like a letter, torn through. A T or an F, perhaps. And it was written in faded red, printed off of some kind of cheap printer from the looks of it.

  With a new notion in mind, Mackenzie tore through the remaining boxes. She was hoping to strike pay dirt and find a sticker that had been unblemished, perhaps even with the name of a store. She knew, of course, that even then it would be difficult to nail down a single buyer, especially with an item as uninteresting as plastic dishes for a child’s playset.

  Twenty minutes later, with the boxes thoroughly rummaged through, she had found nearly twenty more dolls with at least some small sign that there had once been a price sticker on them. She even saw two more with that red lettering, but it was only the tops of a few letters, so it was impossible to tell what it said. A business name, she assumed.

  She sat on the floor around the stacks of dolls and dishes, tea cups and pots, and thought about the next approach.

  If there were stickers with a price on them, that means these weren’t purchased from a store. No, these were purchased secondhand or at something like a yard sale or rummage sale. Or maybe even a secondhand thrift shop.

  She found the green dish with the portion of a sticker on it and took a picture of it with her phone. She then got to her feet and fought every impulse within her to clean it up. She knew that the discovery of the stickers and the old sticker residue might mean nothing. But she had a hunch and for the first time, she was excited about a lead on this damned case.

  She left the house with that excitement spurring her on. On the way to her car, she felt herself growing dizzy again. She got into the car and sat there for a moment, looking out at the house and waiting for the dizziness to pass. It subsided slowly, but not before making her feel slightly sick to her stomach.

  She had a lead. One that she thought might actually be promising. But first, she had to take care of something. And knowing that it had to be the next thing on her agenda made her a little more uneasy than she had felt stepping back into that house.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, she stopped by the first convenience store she could find. She knew there was a Target another fifteen minutes up the road but now that she had it in her head that she was going to finally go ahead and do this, she didn’t see the sense in waiting.

  She grabbed a Diet Coke and a pack of gum, feeling stupid because all she was doing was putting off why she was really there.

  She located the aisle that held the little rack with travel-sized medicines and hygiene products. She looked past these, as well as the condoms located beside them. On the other side of this rack, she saw what she had come here for.

  With a knot in her stomach and a flush in her cheeks, Mackenzie reached out and grabbed the first pregnancy test her hand fell on.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  An hour later, she was back in the conference room with Ellington. He shared with her all that he had learned while in the department that morning. Sadly, it was pretty much nothing. The agents from the Seattle field office were officially on the job now. Their first task had been investigating the unit at Roy’s Storage. Unsurprisingly, they had also come up with nothing—a perfect accompaniment to the fact that the forensics team had also not found a single print.

  The most recent news was that forensics had submitted their report on the Ford truck forty minutes ago. Two different sets of prints had been found. A few prints were a bit older—maybe a few weeks—and belonged to Daisy Walker. The majority of the prints, though, belonged to Brian Dixon.

  “So in other words,” Ellington said, slouched over the conference room table with a cup of coffee between his hands, “we got nothing out of all of this except almost catching a bullet in the face and a spirited high speed car chase.”

  “Well, I think I might have found something,” Mackenzie said. She pulled up the picture she had taken on her phone and slid it over to Ellington.

  “What am I looking at?” he asked.

  “I think it’s part of a sticker that thrift stores and flea markets use to place prices on their items. I’m pretty sure that one once read Dish set, two dollars. And then there’s that red portion of a letter…”

  “You think he’s buying them in bulk from some place in town?”

  “I think it’s a possibility. And with that sticker, we should be able to narrow it down to within just a few places. Maybe even just one. I want to get some local resources on it, if we can. The local PD is going to know local businesses a hell of a lot better than either of us.”

  “It’s the best lead we’ve had since getting clocked in the head,” Ellington said with a lazy smile. “I think Rising can lend an officer to make the calls.”

  As if summoned by the very idea itself, Rising knocked on the open door and poked his head inside. “Wanted you to know that all but three storage facilities in the area are now closed until further notice. The three that were stubborn currently have a police car sitting in their parking lots for surveillance. In other words, this killer won’t be able to use any more storage units.”

  “That’s great news,” Mackenzie said.

  “Also, our tech guys are done with Daisy Walker’s computer. There was nothing useful on there, except—we do know that the last email she sent was to someone about Halloween decorations. Buying some off of someone that posted to Craigslist.”

  “Did it say what kind of decorations?” Mackenzie asked.

  “No. But yeah…I thought the same thing. Creepy dolls would be a pretty popular one these days, don’t you think?”

  “Where did she meet to get them?”

  “I don’t know. The seller told her that he would text her to let her know where to meet. And before you ask, we’ve already checked on the phone. We keep trying to location the phone but it’s either dead or turned off.”

  “I bet the seller…” Ellington said, but stopped himself.

  “Go ahead and finish that thought,” Mackenzie said. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “I bet the seller is the killer. The same jerk that tried to blow my head off.”

  “I got that hunch, too,” Rising said. “But we have no address and no way to trace the phone.”

  “What about the boyfriend’s phone?” Mackenzie asked. “Can you get that? Brian Dixon. If we can get a location on his phone, that might lead us to the last place he and Daisy went. Maybe to the selling point for these so-called Halloween decorations.”

  Rising smiled and pointed at Mackenzie in a child’s sort of bang-bang salute. “That’s a damned good idea. I’ll get right on it.”

  “In the meantime,” Mackenzie said, “I want a list of all of the antiques stores, rummage stores, things like that. Maybe even Goodwill stores. I want to find where our killer is getting all of his dolls and dishes. We can use this picture I took at his house to narrow it down.”

  She showed him the picture and told him about finding the old sticker fragments and sticker residue on many of the dolls and plates. She forwarded him the picture of the sticker she had taken and he looked it over.

  “I could get Dentry and Willard on this, but they’re already busy. The heroin bust went well last night but we’ve got several officers tied up with questioning and crime scene investigations. And those agents from the Seattle field office are busy helping with forensics.”

  “Can you get someone
to just start making the list? I can do the calls myself.”

  “Yes. I’ll have you something to work with in half an hour or so.”

  With that, he left in a hurry, leaving Mackenzie and Ellington in the conference room alone. Mackenzie looked at him as he pored over the case files, trying to force a series of words to her tongue. But as hard as she tried, she could not say what she needed to say. She couldn’t even find a way to start.

  There’s something I need to tell you, she knew she should say. Something I found out this morning…less than half an hour ago, actually…

  But she couldn’t. Not now. Not in the middle of all of this, especially when they seemed to be gaining traction.

  The case first, she chided herself. Personal life second.

  Sure, it was this very line of thought that had led Ellington to describe her to his mother as work-obsessed, but she was okay with that for today. Whether the killer knew it or not, they had him on the run. And while he may feel as if he had the upper hand—basically being a phantom and nearly killing Ellington yesterday—Mackenzie felt that they were actually getting somewhere for the first time since arriving in Seattle. It was a good feeling and she did not intend to lose it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Mackenzie was starting to like Deputy Rising quite a bit. When the man said he was going to get something done, he did it. Exactly eighteen minutes after heading out to delegate the numerous tasks this case was piling at their feet, he had a receptionist deliver a small list to Mackenzie. There were only eight items on the list, each one the name of a local antiques store or flea market of some kind. According to the receptionist, she’d have at least five or six more for her within a few minutes.

  Being that Ellington was still in the room with her, they split the list in half and started calling. It wasn’t the most exciting way to get the job done, but it was quick and efficient.

  The first call Mackenzie made was to a local thrift store called Threads and Things. The phone was answered by a cheerful older lady. “Threads and Things, this is Alice. Can I help you?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Mackenzie said. “My name is Mackenzie White, with the FBI. I’m calling because of a local case that may involve certain people buying a very particular item in bulk. And we believe this person is making his purchases at antiques stores or flea markets.”

  “Oh my. Well, I’ll certainly help if I can. What are you looking for, exactly?”

  “Dolls and any sort of tea party accessories like a little kid would use. Plastic, porcelain, anything like that. Do you tend to keep that sort of thing there?”

  “We do have a few dolls, but they are antiques. We have one from all the way back to 1890. But we’ve never carried enough to be considered in bulk.”

  “Okay. And would you mind telling me how you price your items? Do you use stickers, tags, or some other method?”

  “When I can, I use tags. I don’t like putting stickers on anything—not even DVDs or toys. I hate that sticky residue they leave behind once the customer gets their items home.”

  “So no stickers at all?”

  “No…but, forgive me for asking, but are you specifically looking for a place that uses stickers for pricing?”

  “I am, actually.”

  “In that case, you might want to call Mildred Towers. She runs a little operation called Things Forgotten. It’s a little like a flea market, but that’s sort of complimenting it. It’s more like an organized yard sale with a business permit. She’s kind of a friend, I guess. I always tell her to stop putting price stickers on her inventory. It looks unprofessional.”

  “Would you happen to have her information?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Somewhere…hold on. I have her business card. She’ll sometimes come buy older items that I can’t sell. I give them to her at a huge discount just to get them out of my store. And now that I think of it…I’m pretty sure she does have tons of toys. Dolls, action figures, that sort of thing. Ah…here it is.”

  Alice read Mackenzie the contact information of Mildred Towers, owner of Things Forgotten. “I have to warn you, though,” Alice said. “She’s only open three days a week and I’m pretty sure today isn’t one of them. I don’t have her personal number but if you call the number I just gave you, I think her personal information is on her voicemail message.”

  “Thank you very much, Alice.”

  “Sure. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  Mackenzie ended the call just as Ellington was about to place his second one. “Hold on a second,” she said. “I think I might have found what we’re looking for. Something sort of like a flea market. Based on what the woman I just spoke with at Threads and Things told me, it’s definitely worth checking out.”

  “Jesus…who names these places?” Ellington asked.

  Mackenzie placed the call to Things Forgotten and it went to voicemail, just as Alice from Threads and Things had warned. Mackenzie jotted Mildred Towers’s personal number down on the whiteboard, ended the call, and was starting to dial the number when Rising came into the room. He didn’t knock this time and he looked excited.

  “We got a hit on Brian Dixon’s phone,” he said.

  “At a storage facility?” Ellington asked.

  “No. Best we can tell right now is that it’s out in the forest on the west edge of the city. And you know as well as I do that can’t be good news. You two want to ride over with me to check it out?”

  “You guys go,” Mackenzie said. “I’m going to follow up on this potential lead. For once, everything seems to be lining up. I don’t want to lose the thread.”

  “If that was a thrift store pun, your game is weak, White,” Ellington said, getting to his feet.

  “What can I say? When it rains, it pours.”

  “Terrible,” Ellington said.

  Mackenzie smiled at him. It was the first genuine smile she had managed in about two days. She and Ellington shared a knowing little grin as he left the room.

  You should have told him, she told herself as he left. You should have told him what you know. The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be…

  For what felt like the millionth time, she pushed that thought away and focused on her phone again. She placed a call to Mildred Towers, feeling that she was slowly coasting up the hill on a roller coaster and the gut-punching drop was coming up any second now, sending her hurtling toward the end of what had so far been a miserable ride.

  ***

  Her drive out to Things Forgotten took Mackenzie back in the direction of Roy’s Storage. Mildred Towers had agreed to meet her there at 10:30 to let her have a look around while answering a few questions. The business—if it could be called that—was in a building that looked to have once been a very small diner of some kind. It sat just off of the street, barely allowing enough room for a passable parking lot in front. It was a cute little store but before Mackenzie even stepped inside the building, she could tell that it was going to be something of a mess inside.

  She wasn’t completely wrong. She saw why Alice from Threads and Things had described it as a mixture of a flea market and yard sale. There was no real organization to the place at all. There were shelves and cases all along every wall of the place. There were cases with used watches and jewelry beside a case stuffed with baseball cards, toy cars, and figurines. An electric guitar hung on the wall with a large sign made out of marker and poster board that read: NAME YOUR PRICE!

  There were books and records, clothes and blankets, silverware and electronics. Mackenzie thought it might take an entire day to get a good look at all of the used wares in Things Forgotten.

  Still, when she saw Mildred Towers sitting behind a small desk at the back of the central room, the woman looked in good spirits. She even looked rather proud of her little mess as she watched Mackenzie take it all in. She looked to be in her early sixties and regarded Mackenzie from behind a pair of thick glasses.

  “Welcome,” she said. “It does need some organiz
ation, but I also think there’s a certain bit of charm to the mess.”

  “It’s certainly a lot to take in,” Mackenzie said.

  Mildred stood up and walked across the room to shake Mackenzie’s hand. “Now, on the phone you said this was an urgent matter. Something to do with someone that might have been a customer. What can I help you with?”

  “Well, I’m looking for someone who has sold someone a lot of dolls in the past. Some used, some almost new-looking. Do you sell many dolls?”

  “I don’t sell many,” Mildred said. “I do, however, have a room in the back where I keep things that I have in excess. Quilts, old clothes, even some comic books that I have promised a young man that I would hold onto until he could afford them. At one time, I had boxes upon boxes of dolls. Most of them were old but I did have a few newer ones. And now that you mention it, I did sell most of them to the same customer.”

  “How about tea sets? Pretend ones, like a little kid might play with.”

  Mildred looked at Mackenzie as if she’d sensed the question coming. “Yes, I do have some of that sort of stuff. I recently got some new ones in from a woman that was just cleaning out her attic. But yes…I used to keep quite a lot of that sort of stuff here. But the same day I sold all of those dolls, I sold the tea sets, too.”

  “By any chance, do you remember the customer?”

  “Not very well. But I do remember that it was a male. I asked what he needed all of that stuff for and he said he was an artist. That he had some big piece he was working on, like a public art sort of thing.”

  Mackenzie took out her phone and pulled up the picture she had taken from the killer’s house that morning. She showed it to Mildred and asked: “Do you use stickers that look like this on your items?”