BEFORE HE LAPSES

by Blake Pierce

“That does add up to a promising lead,” Harrison said.

  “The downside,” Ellington pointed out, “is that all of our key witnesses into the sort of man he is like just happen to be dead.”

  “Yeah, but we can find more,” Yardley said. “What if we can get access to all of the sign-ups on Rooney’s website? I assume they’d all have to go through this Humphrey guy, right?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Mackenzie said. “I can do that for you. We can get a list of all of the females that worked for that campaign—particularly female Queen Nash students.”

  “Wait,” Yardley said. “Are you thinking this Humphrey guy might actually be behind the murders?”

  “I’m not necessarily saying that. But he’s our only link to all three women and his history with women isn’t the best.”

  The table fell silent again. It was Yardley, with her abrupt and dry matter-of-fact attitude, that broke it again. “Damn, this is awkward. Just…I don’t want the two of you running errands and doing paperwork nonsense for us.”

  “It’s okay,” Ellington said, though there was no enthusiasm in his voice.

  “Yeah. It’s better than being yanked off the case completely and taking requests from you over the phone back in DC.”

  “So the way I see it,” Yardley said, “is that we’re sort of in a no-win situation. We go after Holland, and risk making a shitstorm with the college. Go after someone closely linked to the campaign of a local politician and risk pissing off an entire political party.”

  “Rooney is an Independent,” Ellington said with a snicker. “I doubt anyone will mind.”

  “Jokes aside,” Mackenzie said, “we made a formal request. DC is supposed to be sending us some information on the woman that came forward with the Humphrey rape story.”

  “Honestly,” Ellington said, “I don’t expect much to come from it. Still, we’ll shoot it to you when we get it. The woman seems like the sort that won’t mind talking about it at all. I’d call her for you myself…but digging into someone’s political campaign might be too prominent in McGrath’s eyes.”

  Mackenzie thought Ellington’s comment sounded a little barbed. She understood it, though she wasn’t quite used to hearing him be so aggressive about being displeased with something.

  “No worries,” Yardley said. “We can handle it. So it seems to me that you think digging deeper into Humphrey would be a safer bet than going after Holland?”

  “I do,” Mackenzie said. “While a friends list on Facebook if far from proof, it does signify at least some sort of relationship—even if it’s a vague or purely digital one.”

  She felt like she was being far too bossy. She respected Yardley and Harrison as agents, though she didn’t know quite enough about them to feel fully comfortable with their approach. She noticed, though, how Yardley seemed to soak up her every word like a sponge and while it was flattering, it also made Mackenzie pick and choose her words very carefully.

  “That’s where we’ll start then,” Harrison said. “Right now. And we’ll keep you posted every step of the way.”

  With that, Yardley and Harrison stood up. Harrison, always wearing a satchel-type bag slung over his chest, adjusted it and smiled at them. “Congrats on the wedding, by the way. I hope to God you’re not counting this mess as your honeymoon.”

  “No, we took care of that before this all started,” Ellington said, reaching out and taking Mackenzie’s hand beneath the table.

  Yardley and Harrison smiled a little awkwardly and then headed out on their way.

  “You think they’re up to the task?” Ellington asked.

  “Yeah. Yardley is very determined. And Harrison is extremely task-oriented. It was a smart move to pair them up.”

  Ellington smiled. “It seems like McGrath has a knack for that, huh?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Anyway, look…I was thinking. I think maybe I’m going to drop you off at the hotel. I’m going to try to swing by and speak to Holland again…see what he knows about Daniel Humphrey.”

  “I’m fully capable of speaking to Holland, too.”

  “You are. But of the two of us, who has pissed of McGrath more in the past?”

  “Me.”

  “And who is currently hiding a rather large secret from him?” He asked this question while looking toward her stomach.

  “Oh, shut up,” she said.

  They left moments behind Yardley and Harrison. Mackenzie was surprised just how involved Ellington was trying to be. He was typically the type who obeyed orders, mainly because she knew that he had nothing but respect and admiration for McGrath. She wondered what it was about this case that had him so entranced.

  It’s because he’s about to be a father, she thought. It’s because he has to understand how someone could kill these women without remorse. He has to understand how someone could so easily kill someone’s child, no matter how old.

  She wasn’t sure if this was correct, but she rather hoped it was. Because one of the things she and Ellington had in common was that when something drove them both professionally and morally, there was no stopping them.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ellington dropped her off at the hotel, promising to be back within an hour or two. He’d called ahead to Holland, not wanting to seem as if they were trying to surprise him and corner him again. Holland had been reluctant but agreed in the end. Mackenzie figured she could do some more digging into Neil Rooney—maybe even get some names from the higher-ups within his campaign. It might turn out to be a waste of time but with Yardley and Harrison in charge of the case now, there really wasn’t much for her to do.

  She fired up her laptop again, thinking of a few other avenues she could potentially take. Did Marie Totino have a boyfriend? If so, did he perhaps know Christine and Jo? Even that simple sort of link could open up many more possibilities for them.

  She had gotten just ten minutes into further digging on Rooney when her phone rang. Not her cell phone, but the ancient-looking hotel phone on the bedside table. The red light lit up, indicating that it was the front desk calling.

  She answered it with a sinking feeling in her chest. Has something happened to Ellington? Has another body been found?

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Agent Mackenzie White?”

  “It is.”

  “This is Rebecca from the front desk. You have a visitor down here in the lobby.”

  “Who is it?”

  “They won’t tell me. That’s why I have not given them your room number. But they are insisting that they speak to you.”

  She considered her options, trying to figure out who it might be. “Thank you,” she finally said. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  She started for the door but then reconsidered. Someone downstairs wanting to talk to her…and they wouldn’t give their name…

  She grabbed her sidearm and tucked it in the waist of her pants. She covered it up with her jacket and then headed back for the door.

  As soon as she opened it, something came speeding directly for her face. By the time she realized it was a gloved fist, she barely had time to duck. Rather than breaking her nose, the punch connected squarely with her brow. She stumbled back, nearly falling before she was able to catch herself on the small sink that sat in the foyer area. Another punch was coming at her and this time she was ready. Still reeling from the first punch, she dropped into a squatting position and kicked her attacker’s ankle. As he stumbled forward from the attack, Mackenzie pivoted upward quickly, throwing her elbow out in a greater-than shape. It connected squarely with the attacker’s face and she caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling back into his head as he was knocked out.

  But another man was already coming in through the door behind him. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans. His face was covered by a simple ski mask. His hands were also gloved. One of his hands held a gun—a basic Glock from the looks of it.

  She calculated quickly. Two on one. At least one w
as armed. No use in engaging in a shootout. One of them was already down. Got to use fists. If you shoot and kill them, you get no information out of them.

  Mackenzie seemed to surprise the second man when she charged for him. She cringed, waiting for the shot, but she got there too fast.

  That or they didn’t intend to kill me…just spook me…

  She grabbed the man’s arm and swung around hard in an almost comical fashion. His face slammed into the wall. Before he had time to rebound, Mackenzie drew up her knee and crashed it hard into his back. She then used her other arm to reach for her Glock, still waiting at her back.

  The man cried out in pain, reaching back for any sort of attack he could muster. His hand found her hair, grabbed a handful of it, and twisted. As he did, he pushed back against her knee. Her scalp seemed to catch fire, taking her just enough off guard that he was able to slip away from between her knee and the wall.

  He wheeled around fast and when he collided with her in a hard football tackle, she knew that they had indeed not come here to kill her. The guns were just for show. They had never intended to use them.

  As he slammed into her, they both went tumbling backward. Mackenzie struck the side of the bed, managing to finally draw her gun. She bounced off of it and then went falling backward onto the table she had been working at. Her laptop and notes went to the ground as the attacker went for her right wrist, trying to knock her Glock out of her hand. He was brave in his attack, giving up ample opportunity for her to roll away from him while he raised his elbow up and drove it into her wrist.

  Mackenzie screamed and was helpless but to let go of the gun. When she did, the attacker perched up to his knees and began to level his gun at Mackenzie’s head.

  Maybe they weren’t expecting this much of a fight, she thought. Maybe now they’ll have no qualms about killing me…

  Before the man could bring his gun all the way up, Mackenzie brought her aching right wrist up and slammed her palm into the side of the man’s head. It rocked him but did not get him off of her. Mackenzie bucked and turned to the left, knocking him further off balance. As he flailed for balance, Mackenzie grabbed his right arm and wrenched it down hard. She was trying to snap it but could not get enough leverage to do so. As she scrambled for more of a grip, the man crawled his way backward. He raised his left leg and kicked out. His foot slammed into Mackenzie’s shoulder, driving her back. She did not release his arm, though. If she did, he’d have a clear shot at her.

  That’s when it dawned on her…that she was not the only one in danger here.

  My baby…

  She wrenched harder, waiting to hear that dry pop of the man’s wrist snapping. While that sound did not come, she managed to apply enough pressure to cause him to drop his gun. It clattered on the floor, directly beside her laptop.

  Mackenzie lunged for it. Her hand fell on the butt and she drew it close, coming to her knees for the shot.

  She was met with another kick.

  This one landed squarely along her stomach. The air went rushing out of her and a cry of pain and fear came barreling out of her.

  The baby…the baby…

  The man came for her again, clearly intending to wrestle her for the gun. With fury boiling inside of her—perhaps feeling a mother’s sense of protectiveness for the first time—Mackenzie stopped him with a stiff jab to his chin. She felt two of her knuckles pop, maybe even her pinky breaking, as the man stopped in his tracks, dazed for a moment.

  It took everything within Mackenzie not to open fire on the son of a bitch. Instead, she brought a tremendous forearm blow across his neck and fell on top of him as he retched for breath.

  “Someone help!” she screamed. “Call—”

  She saw the blur of motion too late. The first attacker had gotten up and came rushing at her. He drove a knee into her head. Mackenzie went reeling back, the world going black.

  Have to hold on…just a bit longer…

  The attacker’s gun was right beside her. She drew it up just as the first attacker started to raise his.

  And then they retreated. The world swayed, went black…

  Fuck it, Mackenzie thought.

  She fired off a shot. It took every ounce of strength within her to do it.

  She was dimly aware that both men were still making a run for it. Her shot had missed. She held the gun up, trying to focus, trying to aim…but everything was swimmy, nothing was stable, and the darkness came rushing on.

  When she was confident that the men were gone and not returning, she tried getting to her feet. She then felt her stomach, willing the baby to move, any little flutter to indicate that the kick had not hurt it.

  But something in her body—not her stomach but something deep in her heart—told her that she might not want the answer to that right now.

  It was this ominous thought that plastered itself to the front of her mind as the darkness finally had its way. She stumbled a moment as she tried to regain her footing and then she fell to the ground, her final thoughts on her baby before the darkness took her down.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  She felt movement all around her. She felt someone’s hands on her arm, then gently checking her neck. There were voices, but they seemed to be coming from very far away. She heard sirens, piercing wails that seemed to obliterate everything else. She could actually feel them in her bones, in her guts, in her…

  “The baby…”

  This was her voice, which was good. Hearing her own voice helped to ground her. She opened her eyes and the lights above her made her head feel as if her head was splitting in half.

  “You’re doing great, Agent White,” a man’s voice said. This was almost entirely muted by the sirens.

  She grinned sleepily and said, “It’s Ellington now.”

  You’re in an ambulance, some very rigid part of her mind said. You just survived an attack against two men and barely escaped. You were kicked hard in the stomach and—

  “The baby,” she said again.

  “What baby, Agent White?”

  The words were on her tongue. As she spoke them, she wondered if it was the best idea. But she had to. Her baby could be in trouble. Her baby could be hurt…or worse.

  “Pregnant,” she said.

  Everything seemed to stop around her: the voices, the movement, even the wailing of the sirens.

  “Okay, we’ll do what we can,” that female voice said again.

  “Call Ellington,” she said. “The father. He’s the—”

  But then the darkness came reeling back toward her and she was unable to keep it away.

  ***

  The next time she opened her eyes, the world felt as if someone had placed it on pause. She could tell right away, even before her eyes had fully adjusted to the light, that she was in a hospital room. The smell and the sanitized square shape of everything gave it away. The mattress beneath her bed was somewhere between too firm and just right, and the stillness in the air had that hospital feel to it.

  “Mac?”

  She craned her head to the right and saw Ellington sitting there. He was out of his seat at once, kneeling by the bed and taking her hand. “How are you feeling?”

  It took her a moment to come up with the right words. But even when she had them—sore and scared—she ignored them. Instead, she asked the only question that she truly cared about.

  “How’s the baby?”

  “We don’t know. They’re going to do an ultrasound in a few minutes. A doctor did a preliminary check and thinks everything is going to be okay.” He paused here and seemed to be keeping his emotions in check. “What happened?”

  “Two men with guns. Both wearing ski masks…”

  “And you got away? There was a bullet hole in the wall…was that them or you?”

  “Me.”

  “Your left pinky is broken and you have a mild concussion. Do you—”

  She shook her head. “Nothing else. Not until I know how the baby is doing.”

  E
llington quickly glanced to her stomach and then back to her face. “A nurse left here about three minutes ago to roll a machine this way. It should be any minute now.”

  She nodded and made herself turn away from him. She felt tears coming on—out of fear for her baby, out of her own stubborn nature of not being able to sit on the sidelines when she knew it would be best.

  “Mac…can you please tell me exactly what happened? Two men broke into your room and did a number on you. There was a bullet hole in the wall. That’s pretty serious stuff.”

  “Not yet,” she said, choking back a sob.

  Ellington sighed, resigned.

  They remained in silence for another thirty seconds or so when they were interrupted by a nurse wheeling in an ultrasound machine. She glanced quickly at Mackenzie and offered a soft smile. “Hey, you’re up! How are you feeling?”

  “I need to know about the baby.”

  “Of course,” the nurse said, clearly picking up on Mackenzie’s urgency. She kept her head down and worked to get the machine hooked up.

  When everything was ready to go, the nurse applied gel to Mackenzie’s stomach and started to do a search for the baby. The tension and quiet in the room felt heavy on Mackenzie. She looked to Ellington and noted the stone-like expression on his face. He came to the side of the bed and took her hand. She gave it a squeeze, somehow certain that they were going to receive bad news.

  She watched the screen and, after a while, saw the shape of the baby come into view. She’d only had one ultrasound to this point in her pregnancy and despite the fear in her heart in that moment, it still felt quite magical. The moment she saw it, her heart stopped; it was still and unmoving.

  And she heard no heartbeat through the machine.

  “Hold on,” the nurse said, seeing the tension start to sink into Mackenzie. “Your little one is just sort of curled up and hard to get to right now. After all, they had quite a scare. Okay…and here we go…”

  The whoop whoop whoop of the heartbeat sounded out.

  It sounded canned, static-laced, but also beautiful.