Before He Harms

by Blake Pierce

  “Count me in, too,” Frances said. “I only have enough clothes for a day or two, but I can do the wash.”

  “Mackenzie, I don’t even know where to start,” Patricia said. “It’s been so long since I cared for a baby and…”

  “It’s like riding a bike,” Frances assured her. “And little Kevin there is an angel. Not a problem at all.”

  “And we’ll leave a schedule for you,” Mackenzie said.

  “As well as the numbers for the doctor, fire department, and poison control,” Ellington quipped.

  When no one laughed, he grimaced and slowly stepped out of the room. Kevin, sitting on the floor, provided the only response as he craned his neck to see where his daddy was going.

  “Think you can handle it, kiddo?” Mackenzie asked, getting down on the floor with him.

  His only response was his usual smile and his big bright eyes as he looked up at his mother and the two older women behind her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  About halfway through their flight to Utah, Mackenzie was on her second cup of bitter airline coffee as her first signs of worry took root. She glanced out the window, the early morning light blooming over the horizon, and then to Ellington.

  “Still feel good about it?” she asked him.

  “I do. Why? You changing your mind?”

  “No. I just know my mother. I mean, it’s obvious she’s changing her life for the better and I hope spending some time with Kevin only helps to super-charge those changes. But I know my mother. I know how stubborn she can be. I know how defensive she can be. I can’t help but wonder if our mothers together might turn into a WWE cage match.”

  “As long as they keep Kevin alive, I’m fine with that. I’d put my money on your mom, by the way.”

  She could tell that he was slightly worried, but was trying to be the strong husband that she could depend on. Throughout their marriage and the years of partnering together beforehand, he had learned when to take on that role and when to step back and let her be strong. He was getting very good at doing both and knowing which role to fill at the appropriate time. She sighed, looked back out the window, and held his hand.

  “Hey, Mac? It really is okay. It’s going to be great. This is part of being a family, you know? In-laws, relatives, all of it.”

  “I know. But today it’s my mom. Tomorrow, what if my sister wants to step up and be an aunt all of a sudden?”

  “Then you have to let her. Or, at the very least, let her try.”

  “Oh, but you haven’t met Stephanie…”

  “And I hadn’t met your mother until yesterday. Yet here we are, in the sky while she and my mother are down below, taking care of our son. And if I can be honest…?”

  “Please do.”

  “I think you’re worried about it because you aren’t worried about it. You and I were both rocked by how natural it felt. Maybe we just need to go with it and focus on this case. Our mothers raised us and we turned out fine, after all.”

  “Did we, though?” she asked with a smirk.

  “Eh, good enough.”

  Mackenzie continued to sip from her coffee and did exactly what Ellington had suggested, turning her thoughts away from the surprising result back home and toward the case.

  ***

  They drove their rental car sixteen miles outside of Salt Lake City, on task to beat McGrath’s projection of a noon arrival by nearly an hour. The town where the woman without an identity had been murdered was a cute little place called Fellsburg. It was a slightly upscale town, likely the sort of town that thrived only because it was so close to Salt Lake City. Mackenzie imagined most of the population made that commute daily, working in the city and then coming back to their homes in one of the numerous neighborhoods in Fellsburg.

  Following the file notes and instructions in the information McGrath had emailed to them, Ellington drove them to a subdivision called Plainsview. It looked like the two other subdivisions they had to pass to get there—two-story houses, cookie-cutouts of one another. Nice trimmed yards, security streetlights every one hundred feet or so.

  But they didn’t have to venture far into Plainsview. Four houses after the entrance, there was a cop car parked on the side of the street. This was the officer who had arranged to meet with them when Mackenzie had called from the airport to announce their arrival. He was already getting out of his patrol car when Ellington pulled in behind him.

  The three of them met between the cars, going through a round of introductions. The badge and pin he wore on his chest indicated he was Sheriff Burke.

  “Agents,” Burke said. “Thanks for coming out. I’m Sheriff Declan Burke.”

  Mackenzie and Ellington gave their names, shaking hands with him. Mackenzie guessed Burke to be about fifty or so. He had a thick beard that could use a trim and a hardened face. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses even though the morning was not bright at all.

  “This is where the body was discovered?” Mackenzie asked.

  “It is. Right there.” Burke pointed to a spot just slightly right of center.

  “According to the report, there was nothing on her except a driver’s license, correct?”

  “That, and a pair of sandals. They were wet from the little bit of rain we had gotten that day. She wasn’t wearing the sandals, though. At first, I thought the car knocked her out of them, but the MD pointed out that there were cuts and abrasions on her feet that indicated she took them off in the hopes of maybe running faster.”

  “Any idea how far she had been running?” Ellington asked.

  “We’re not really clear on that,” Burke said. “There’s a field about a mile and a half away from here that shows some signs of someone passing through that same night. But the growth of weeds and wild grass makes it impossible to tell for sure if it was this woman—or even a human being at all. Could have been a deer or something.”

  “And no one around here saw anything?” Mackenzie asked. She looked down the street, to the slightly sloping road and the nice homes. There were plenty of streetlights. It was hard to believe no one had seen anything.

  “My men and I questioned every homeowner on this street. We have one night owl who claims to have seen an old town car driving through the neighborhood with its lights off. But they didn’t get a plate number.”

  “And what about the girl?” Ellington said. “No known identity at all?”

  “None that we can find. The driver’s license was a fake. And a damned convincing one at that. We of course took her fingerprints and drew blood. None of them match to anyone in the system.”

  “That makes no sense,” Ellington commented.

  “And that’s why we called you guys out here,” Burke said. “You saw the pictures of the body at the scene, I assume?”

  “Yes,” Mackenzie said. “Black duct tape over her mouth. The ME believes it was placed there postmortem.”

  “That’s right. Checked the tape for prints and got nothing.”

  Mackenzie had studied that strip of tape in the photographs for a while last night and on the plane this morning. She figured it could be symbolic, some way of the killer letting the woman know even in death that she needed to be quiet. But why? What did she have to say?

  “With no identity, I guess it’s been next to impossible to identify friends or family members,” Ellington said.

  “Yeah. We have nothing. So I will now gladly hand this over to you. Need anything from me?”

  “Yes, actually,” Mackenzie said. “No prints were found on the driver’s license?”

  “Just the girl’s.”

  “What’s the forensics lab like at your station?”

  “Not state of the art by any means, but better than most in towns of this size.”

  “Get your forensics guys to take a closer look at that license. Check it under a microscope with ultraviolet light. Some forgers put a little signature or mark on their work. It’s always hidden well, but sometimes it’s there. Sort of a snea
ky little middle-finger to people like us.”

  “I’ll do that,” Burke said. “Anything else?”

  Mackenzie was about to ask Ellington what he thought, but she was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. It was on silent, but they could all hear it buzzing from inside her coat pocket. She turned away and pulled the phone out of her pocket. She was irritated and a little alarmed to see it was her mother. She nearly ignored it but the thought of her and Frances keeping Kevin sat heavy on her mind.

  She took a few steps away and answered the call, already dreading the news that may be waiting on the other end.

  “Hey, Mom. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, everything is good. Kevin is perfectly fine.”

  “So then why the call? You know I’m right at the start of case, right?”

  “I do. But I just need to know something. Is Frances always this overbearing?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Just being bossy. I know she’s been around Kevin more than I have but she’s acting like she knows every single detail about him, and questioning everything I do.”

  “That’s why you’re calling me?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Mackenzie, I just—”

  “Both of you are big girls. You’ll find a way to work together. For now, I have to go. Please, Mom…don’t call me again unless it’s urgent.”

  “Okay.” There was hurt and disappointment in her voice, but Mackenzie looked past it.

  She killed the call and turned back to Ellington and Burke. Burke looked at her almost apologetically as he headed back to his patrol car. “I was just telling your partner here that we’ve got an office space set up for you guys back at the station. I’ve got a few other things I need to check on, so just make yourselves at home. And feel free to call me directly if anything pressing pops up.”

  He seemed relieved to be leaving the scene as he got into his car. He gave them a little wave before he pulled off, leaving them to look at the section of road where the mystery woman had been killed.

  “Important call?” Ellington asked.

  “It was my mother.”

  “Oh? Everything okay?”

  “Yes. She was just calling to let me know the cage match is officially underway.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The first thing Mackenzie did when they arrived at the station was to go through the physical records to get actual photos of the crime scene rather than the digital ones she and Ellington had been given. She spread them out on the large table that took up most of their designated office space and hunched over them for a moment. As she studied them, Ellington started taking down notes on his phone.

  The girl was rather young. Mackenzie doubted she was older than twenty. She was blonde and had a face that most would consider pretty. But there was some quality to her, even in her emotionless dead face, that made Mackenzie think the girl may have been a runaway or a vagrant. That, or she’d been through some trauma recently. Her skin simply had a pallor to it that spoke of grime and hard living.

  “No identity,” she said, speaking to herself more than to Ellington. “I wonder if she was from WITSEC.”

  “Witness protection?” Ellington said. “That’s a bit of a leap. Especially with a license you think might be a fake.”

  “Well, she has no real ID and she was running hard from someone. If she was with witness protection and on the run, that would give us at least somewhere to start looking. Maybe someone from her past found her.”

  “That’s why I love you,” Ellington said. “You’d rather look hard at a theory without legs than admit you have nowhere to start.”

  “There’s always somewhere to start,” Mackenzie said, still eyeing the photos. “It’s just that sometimes the place you start is the hardest.”

  She pulled out her phone, her eyes bouncing back and forth between her contacts and the pictures of the dead girl on the table.

  “Who you calling?” Ellington asked.

  “I’m going to have DC patch me through to the US Marshals office to see if they’ll get me a list.”

  Ellington, clearly surprised by the suggestion, nodded comically. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  As the phone was answered and she was placed on hold and then finally patched through to the Marshals office, she continued to eye the pictures. The injuries sustained by the vehicle striking her weren’t obvious in the pictures, but the harsh slit across her throat was glaring. The pavement in the pictures was slightly wet and glistening, making the dark red coming from her neck almost surreal.

  “This is Assistant Chief Manning,” a rough voice said through the other end of the phone. “Who is this?”

  “This is Special Agent Mackenzie White, with the FBI. I’m working a case in Salt Lake City that I believe may involve a young woman out of WITSEC. We have absolutely no ID. Her prints aren’t in any database and the driver’s license found on her body is a fake. I’m taking a shot in the dark and hoping she might be in your system.”

  “Agent White, you know I can’t give you the identities of people under our security. That would be breaking about a dozen different laws and regulations.”

  “I’m aware of that. But what if I sent you a picture? Using facial recognition, you could maybe come up with something and—”

  “Pardon me, but even if you only suspect she might be with WITSEC, sending a picture back and forth breaks even more rules.”

  “Being that it’s a crime scene photo, I think it’s permissible,” Mackenzie snapped. “She was hit by a vehicle and then had her throat slit. So I’m not sending you a glamour shot.”

  Manning gave a deep sigh that indicated Mackenzie was about to get her way. “Send the picture over and I’ll have someone run a facial recognition search. Of course, I can’t promise anything. But I’ll see what we can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We’ll get back to you as soon as we can.” He gave her the information of where to send the picture before hanging up.

  Ellington had been looking over the coroner’s report while she spoke with Manning. “Got your way, huh?”

  “Was there ever any doubt?”

  He shook his head and handed the coroner’s report over to her. “This is the most recent, fresh off the presses about five hours ago. Sort of interesting, don’t you think?”

  She scanned the report, looking over the obvious content until she came to the most recent updates. What she found did indeed seem interesting. According to the most recent updates from the coroner and the medical examiner, it appeared that the victim had suffered several broken bones in the past that had not healed correctly. Two ribs, the left wrist, and a buckle fracture along her right arm. According to the coroner’s notes, the bones of the left wrist looked as if they had never been properly set at all.

  “You thinking domestic abuse?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I think she was running away from someone and she had a history of broken bones that weren’t set. So yeah…domestic abuse and maybe even something darker. I wonder if she was maybe held captive. She doesn’t look the healthiest, you know. The report has her listed as weighing one hundred and fifteen pounds. And you can see it in her face in the pictures…she looks sort of…I don’t know…”

  “Hardened,” Mackenzie finished for him.

  “Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”

  “So maybe she was a prisoner or captive and she managed to get away from her abuser. And when he caught up to her, he figured it was going to be easier to kill her rather than capture her again.”

  “But for someone to be so carefree about that, it would mean the abuser must have known she had no identity.”

  It was a good point, one that left them in silence to mull it over individually. Mackenzie thought of a girl, potentially running through a damp field and then down a rain-slicked road. She had been barefoot, apparently carrying her sandals. The scenario presented two questions, but she wasn’t sure which one was more important.

  The first
was where was she running away from?

  The second, as she pondered it, started to seem more pressing. “Where was she going?” Mackenzie asked out loud. “It can’t be a coincidence that she chose that neighborhood. I know there is no evidence that it was her that ran through the field Sheriff Burke mentioned, but what if she did? She could have gone in any direction and chosen any neighborhood. So why that one?”

  Ellington smiled as he nodded, catching on to her enthusiasm. “Why don’t we go find out?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  They were fortunate in that it was a Saturday and most of the cars within the neighborhood were parked in driveways or opened garages. They arrived back in the Plainsview neighborhood at 3:10, parking in the same spot they had met Sheriff Burke. It was a sunny March afternoon, not quite chilly but certainly not warm either. Regardless, Mackenzie did not expect to have much of a problem finding people to speak with.

  “You take the right, I’ll take the left,” Ellington said as they got out of the car.

  Mackenzie nodded, knowing that most partners opted not to take the split-up approach. But she and Ellington trusted one another on a level that allowed for this. It came not only in their strong work partnership, but from the bonds of marriage as well. They separated without any fanfare and took their respective sides of the street.

  The first house on Mackenzie’s side was a no-brainer, as a mother and her daughter were in the front yard. The daughter was maybe six years old, pedaling a Little Tikes tricycle up and down the sidewalk. The mother was sitting on the porch, scrolling on her phone. When Mackenzie approached, she looked up and offered a smile.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. Her tone indicated she did not want to help at all, especially if Mackenzie was selling something.

  Mackenzie got a little farther away from the little girl before she pulled her badge and introduced herself. “I’m Agent Mackenzie White, with the FBI. My partner and I are scouring the neighborhood to see if we can find out any information on the hit-and-run from two nights ago.”