Before He Takes

by Blake Pierce

  “I don’t know…I don’t…well, yeah. There was this weird sort of whining sound. I thought it might be animals of some kind but…I don’t know. It’s a sound I know. A sound I’ve heard before but I don’t know. I can’t place it.”

  Mackenzie looked back to Margo and Ellington. Margo was nodding her approval while Ellington was typing notes into his iPhone.

  “Okay, Delores. That’s okay. Now I need you to think about escaping. When you got out, what did you see? From the time you made it out of that container to the moment you saw the train…what did you see?”

  “I saw him,” she said. “I told him I had to pee. And I really did. He said he’d let me out but when I was done peeing, he was going to rape me. He told me that. But I kicked him in the nuts…attacked him. I got away.”

  “Did you see what he looked like?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Sort of, but it’s…like seeing clouds. Denim clouds. A denim shirt, maybe. Too worried about getting out of there. The barn…outside of the barn, there was a small backyard. Trees everywhere. There were more barns. Two…maybe one. And I heard someone screaming for help. Another woman in another shed. I went back for her…but…I was too scared. Couldn’t reach her.” She paused here and showed real emotion for the first time. “Oh my God, I should have helped. I should have—”

  Mackenzie was dimly aware of her cell phone buzzing in her pocket as someone called her. She ignored it, hoping to finish up with Delores first.

  “That’s okay, Delores. What else do you see?”

  “Nothing. Just trees. I’m running fast. He’s behind me somewhere. I don’t…I don’t see anything. Just the yard, the sheds. I barely see the back of a house…”

  “Is that all?” Mackenzie asked.

  Delores was shifting in the bed now. The smile that had been on her face three minutes ago was gone now. It had been replaced by a grim frown. Her head ticked left to right, as if she were watching the woods pass by in her mind’s eye while she escaped.

  Mackenzie felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw that Margo had quietly come up behind her. She shook her head as politely as she could and then slashed a finger over her throat. Stop, she seemed to be saying. We’re done.

  Mackenzie wanted to argue but kept Delores’s health in mind. Frustrated, she stood up from the chair and allowed Margo to sit back down. As she did, Mackenzie heard Ellington’s phone vibrating from his interior coat pocket.

  Thirty seconds behind mine, she thought. It’s either McGrath trying to get us back home ASAP before the snow makes it impossible or there’s been a break on Bateman’s end in Bent Creek.

  Mackenzie nodded to Ellington, signaling him to answer the call. He withdrew his phone and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind him. Mackenzie turned back to the hospital bed, where Margo was easing Delores down and bringing her out of the session.

  “Okay, Delores, I need you to step away from that forest and forget the man behind you. I want you to stop running, stand still, and look. I need you to realize that you are not there. You are still sitting in your old apartment. See the window and the bakery’s back lot? Do you see it? Do you see the old Dell laptop?”

  Slowly, Delores settled down and resumed her relaxed position against the pillows. Her breathing was a little labored, but she seemed to be okay. Margo continued on, her voice still calm and soothing.

  “Great job, Delores. You’re there, aren’t you? In that old apartment.”

  “Yes,” Delores said, clearly relieved.

  “Good. Now, I want you to continue listening to my voice. I’m going to count backwards from three and you’re going to open your eyes. Do you remember where you are?”

  “Hospital.”

  “That’s right. So be ready for that and remember where you are as I count down. Three…you’re opening your eyes, Delores. Two, coming up towards my voice, like waking up, and three.”

  It amazed Mackenzie how easy it had seemed. On three, Delores’s eyes opened slowly. She looked around the room as if in a daze until her eyes landed on Mackenzie and Margo. She gave them a shaky smile and chuckled.

  “That was…well, that was odd,” she said.

  “But you did great,” Margo said.

  “Did any of that help?” Delores asked.

  Mackenzie didn’t want to show her disappointment in the lack of answers so she gave a generic reply. “Every little bit helps. Thanks so much for doing this. I already left my number with you yesterday…so if you think of anything else, please contact me right away.”

  “There’s a good chance that may happen,” Margo said. “Once the memories have been breached, they tend to come back naturally. Sometimes with surprising speed. That includes additional memories that did not surface during hypnosis.”

  Mackenzie was going to ask one more question, hoping she could get some details on the man that took her. But before she got the chance to ask, Ellington came back into the room. He looked hurried and a little excited.

  “Agent White, can I see you in the hallway for a moment?”

  She stepped out into the hallway, hoping he had good news. “Is this about the call I ignored while we were in there?”

  “Yes. Carl Houghton called the Bent Creek PD. They’re just about done with that employee search you requested at the slaughterhouse. Turns out there were a few details about a former employee that he didn’t remember. Apparently he had mentioned something to you about an employee that was fired when it was discovered he was holding dogs for dog fights.”

  “Yes, I remember that.”

  “Well, that guy’s name is Ed Fowley. When Bateman saw the name, it raised some alarms. So he looked back through Bent Creek records and discovered something interesting. In 2011, Fowley was involved in a domestic dispute call. He and his wife got into an argument and he locked her in a cage as a sort of mean-spirited joke. Not just any cage, mind you—a cattle cage that he had once hidden puppies and their mothers in.”

  “A stretch, but worth checking out, I guess,” Mackenzie said.

  “Oh…it gets better. Before Fowley and that wife eventually divorced, he had troubles with his first wife. They divorced after about a year because she caught him sleeping around. And it just so happens that his mistress was Crystal Hall.”

  “That sounds like a lead,” Mackenzie said.

  “Hell yeah, it does,” Ellington said. “Bateman is getting a crew ready as we speak. He says he’ll wait on us and go in after five, when Fowley will likely be home from work.”

  “Well then, let’s hope the roads are still passable,” Mackenzie said.

  They hurried down the hall, pushed by the excitement of their first true lead since arriving in Bent Creek. Outside, the snow was dying off but it had done its damage. No amount of plowing or road salt would make the roads completely clear, so they’d have to take things slow and steady…which was easier said than done, knowing that a promising lead was waiting for them elsewhere in the slush and cold.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  At 5:37 that afternoon, Mackenzie and Ellington drove behind Sheriff Bateman and Deputy Wickline. Behind Mackenzie and Ellington was a car with two other officers, one of whom was Roberts. The three cars drove almost casually down Bent Creek’s main stretch of road and then turned off into a small unmarked road named Skinner’s Reach Road. The state trucks had not touched this road; however, there was evidence that a Good Samaritan had been down it with some type of small plow.

  Still, Skinner’s Reach Road was a hazardous mess. Now that the darkness of a cold winter evening had fallen, wrapping up the day, the snow seemed more treacherous. Even creeping along at twenty miles per hour, Mackenzie could feel the tires sliding a bit on the slick pavement. The snow had stopped falling but it was bitterly cold outside, not making conditions any better.

  About a mile down Skinner’s Reach Road, Bateman cut on his flashers ahead of them. This, he had told Mackenzie, was their sign that they were less than half a mile from Ed Fo
wley’s residence. The flashers pierced the darkness and seemed to pull them forward.

  A few minutes later, Bateman turned off onto a gravel driveway. The small house could be seen from the road, a faint glow spilling out through one of the windows along the front. On the snowed-over gravel, Bateman sped ahead. Ellington increased their speed, too, the tires of the rental car spinning a bit before gaining traction.

  With his lights still swirling, Bateman and Wickline got out of the car. Mackenzie and Ellington followed him. As per the plan they had come up with at the station, Roberts and the other officer remained in their car. Walking in a neat single file line through the snow-covered yard, Bateman seemed to begrudgingly allow Mackenzie and Ellington to take the lead. As they stepped up on the small porch, the front door opened quickly…so quickly that Mackenzie caught herself going for her gun. When she saw that the man standing in front of her was thin as a rail and clearly unarmed, she relaxed a bit.

  “Sheriff Bateman,” the man, presumably Ed Fowley, said. “Lights are just a-flashing out there. Everything okay?”

  “I don’t know, Ed,” Bateman said from behind Mackenzie. “I sure hope so.”

  Mackenzie then flashed her badge, as did Ellington. “Agents White and Ellington, with the FBI,” Mackenzie said. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  The alarm in Fowley’s eyes was suddenly very fierce. He did his best to wrangle it in, but Mackenzie saw it quite easily. More than that, he saw that she had noticed it. He took a step back, doing everything he could to remain calm.

  “Something wrong, Mr. Fowley?”

  “What kinds of questions?” he asked.

  “It’s rather cold out here,” Ellington said. “You think we could maybe come in and have a word?”

  Mackenzie could almost smell the panic coming off of him. Still, he gave a nod, a strangled “Yeah,” and reluctantly invited them in.

  Or so it seemed.

  The moment Mackenzie stepped inside the doorway, Fowley wheeled around in a hard arc, drawing up his elbow. It caught her by surprise but she was able to bring her hand up to block it. More than that, she caught his arm and twisted it in a downward pull while also using it as a lever of sorts. She slammed him into the wall just as he let out a shout.

  “Backup plan! NOW!” Fowley called out.

  “Shit,” Ellington said. He went running into the house, drawing his weapon as Mackenzie wrestled Fowley to the floor. He tried fighting against her but a solidly placed knee into his ribs took it out of him.

  Bateman was suddenly at her side, yanking a set of handcuffs from his belt. “I’ll handle him,” he said. “You go catch up with Ellington.”

  Mackenzie gave Fowley one last knee to the ribs, out of anger more than anything else, and then took off in the direction Ellington had gone. She drew her sidearm and strafed through the living room and into the adjoining hall. She saw Ellington a few steps ahead of her, his gun aimed forward into a room near the back of the hall.

  Just as she saw him, a young-looking male came barreling out of the room, hunched over. He held a baseball bat in his hands, swinging it upward as they came out. Ellington lowered his gun but was struck before he could give a warning. The bat took him in the center of his chest, causing him to stumble backward. At that exact moment, another man came rushing out of the room.

  He went to the side of the hall and threw a stiff sort of clothesline that knocked Ellington down in a heap. Mackenzie took a shooter’s stance just as both men noticed her at the end of the hallway.

  “Stop right there,” she bellowed.

  Both men froze for a moment. Behind them, Ellington slowly started to get to his feet. As he made it to his knees, the man with the bat threw it hard at Mackenzie. While she sidestepped it and the bat tore a chunk out of the wall two feet in front of her, both men dashed to the left, through an open door along the hallway. The first one made it inside but Ellington was able to grab the leg of the second man. He wrapped his arm around the man’s leg and twisted, throwing him into the doorframe.

  Mackenzie started forward and reached the room just as Ellington threw himself on the man. He was pinning the suspect’s arms behind him, easily overpowering the much smaller man. Mackenzie looked into the room and saw that the third man had opened a window on the far side of the room. He was currently pushing out the screen and throwing a leg over to the outside.

  Mackenzie dashed into the room and reached for the man, not seeing the need to fire a shot yet (even though he had thrown a baseball bat at her less than ten seconds ago). She barely missed him, her hand grazing the back of his shirt as he made it out. Mackenzie nearly went after him but then saw Officer Roberts and the other policeman getting out of the third patrol car. Roberts was already racing after the man and there was no way he was going to escape.

  When Mackenzie turned back toward the hallway, she saw that Ellington had his suspect pinned against the wall. Ellington looked to be in a bit of pain, making Mackenzie wonder just how hard he’d been struck by the baseball bat.

  “You good here?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah, we’re great,” Ellington said, leading the man into the living room with both arms twisted behind his back.

  Mackenzie ran through the living room, passing by the front door where Bateman currently had Fowley in cuffs and pressed against the wall. She made her way out onto the porch and saw that Roberts and the other officer had tackled the third man to the ground. He was putting up a fight, but Deputy Wickline was currently racing through the snow to assist.

  Mackenzie turned back to the living room just as Bateman shoved Fowley down onto his couch. He grunted in pain, landing awkwardly on his right arm, pulled behind his back and cuffed to the left.

  Bateman sat down beside him and gave him an angry look. Mackenzie had seen him irritated and defeated but not angry. It was actually rather menacing.

  “You yelled ‘backup plan,’” Bateman said. “You want to tell me what the first plan was?”

  Fowley said nothing. He bit his lip defiantly and shook his head.

  Mackenzie stood in front of him and looked down at him. She wanted to get angry as well but knew it would be much more impactful if she was calm and collected. “You attacked me, an FBI agent. Then this genius here,” she said, hitching a thumb to the man Ellington was holding, “hit another agent in the chest with a baseball bat and then threw it at me. So you’re already in a shitload of trouble. If you make this harder by staying quiet, it’s just going to be worse for you.”

  Fowley seemed to think about this. Mackenzie saw fear starting to take root in his eyes as he looked around the room.

  “Be smart,” Mackenzie said. “Help yourself. Tell us where the women are.”

  “There are no women,” he said, but his voice was thin and wavering.

  “Bullshit,” Bateman said. “How about Missy Hale? Crystal Hall? Oh, and Delores Manning, who outsmarted your dumb ass. Ring any bells?”

  He looked confused but still indignant. He said nothing, keeping his eyes dead ahead.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fowley said. There was relief in his voice now but he was still clearly nervous.

  Bateman looked at Mackenzie.

  “What do you think?” Bateman asked.

  She didn’t want to play her whole hand in front of Fowley so she simply gave a lazy shrug. “Take him in. Innocent men sure as hell don’t randomly attack FBI agents.”

  “You heard the lady,” Bateman said. “On your feet, Fowley. You’re under arrest.”

  ***

  Deputy Wickline and the officer that Mackenzie did not know rode back to the station with the three suspects in tow. Mackenzie watched things play out as Fowley and his partners were placed into the back of the patrol cars and Wickline and the other officer carefully navigated both cars out of the driveway.

  Mackenzie had elected to stay behind to search the property for evidence, certain that Fowley was not their man. Ellington remained with her and, fo
r reasons Mackenzie had yet to determine, Bateman and Roberts also stayed behind.

  As Mackenzie looked around the backyard, using flashlights taken from the patrol cars, Bateman sidled up next to her. “You think this is our guy?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  Bateman made a small hmmm sound in the back of his throat as they continued searching. As they came to the rear of the yard, their flashlights and the scant moonlight revealed a small gardener’s shed. Ellington approached it cautiously, still visibly shaken from the attack with the bat. He opened up the door, revealing the inside.

  There were two cattle containers inside the shed. One was smaller, perhaps big enough to carry two pigs. The other was quite large.

  Bateman hurried inside and looked into the crates. Unable to open them because they were locked, he shined his flashlight through the slats along the front of both of them. “Empty,” he said.

  Further investigating turned up a crate filled with pornography magazines, several old dog collars, two dead lawn mowers, and an old deteriorated dog kennel that had been taken apart and tossed in a heap into the back corner.

  “Sheriff,” Mackenzie said, “Delores Manning says she saw two, maybe three large sheds. This doesn’t match that description at all.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “But then again, that was testimony coming from a woman with trauma to the head—while under hypnosis. Forgive me for not accepting every word of it.”

  “He’s right,” Roberts said. She spoke so infrequently that it genuinely took Mackenzie by surprise. “He’s guilty. Why else would he attack? Why else would he have two other people here that knew right away what he meant by backup plan?”

  Mackenzie wanted to argue it, knowing that everything she was saying held up under scrutiny. So many times in the past, her gut instinct had been right. When others had thought the case was closed, some other part of her had insisted the hunt was not over.

  Maybe this is the guy, she thought, daring to feel victorious. Maybe we got the bastard.