BEFORE HE LAPSES

by Blake Pierce

  Mackenzie walked to the living room and sat down hard on the couch. If this was what she had to expect in the final months of her pregnancy and the weeks following delivery, she was not looking forward to it. She was an introvert at heart, yes, but she also could not handle sitting still. Especially not when there was a case at her feet that had not yet been solved.

  She wasted no time in pretending that she was going to be able to ignore the fact that Dumfries would be making a very public appearance at a conference tomorrow. She grabbed the laptop and pulled up information on the conference. She quickly realized that calling it a conference was really just a polite formality. What it really was in disguise was a fundraiser for several different Democratic groups—which Mackenzie had no problem with. But when she saw wording about the real intention in small print near the bottom of the pages, as well as a schedule filled with speakers like Eric Connor and Neil Rooney, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. It might be painted as a conference, but it was really just an excuse for men and women of power to stand up in front of those who had elected them, reminding them that thanks to the public’s votes, they were in control.

  Control…power…sounds like the perfect place for a man like Dumfries.

  But another thought came on the heels of this. One that hurt but also pissed her off.

  This is the type of thing you need to share with your husband…not as your bureau partner, but as the man you’re now married to—the man that will be the father of your child.

  She was starting to hatch a plan. She had a good idea of what she needed to do. The only question left was whether or not she would include Ellington. Her husband. A man who was supposed to trust her and, at the same time, unequivocally always be there for her.

  Exactly, she thought. What sort of example are you setting to start your marriage by hiding something like this from him? If you go through with your little plan, he’s going to find out anyway.

  She felt selfish but she also felt dignified. As her husband, she thought he would understand. Maybe he’d even support her in it.

  Done reading about the conference, Mackenzie shut down the browser and closed the laptop. She sat still on the couch and stared into space, thinking long and hard about it for a very long time.

  ***

  It was becoming almost like a routine now, and Mackenzie was acutely aware that it was not how a marriage should start out. Ellington came home at 7:30 that evening and he hadn’t even had a chance to fully come inside and take off his coat before she came clean with him, telling her what she had planned.

  He paused for only a moment, giving her a crooked smile and a sigh of frustration. He shrugged his coat off, hung it in the coat closet, and turned to her. He looked at her in the same way he had looked at her so many times during their trip to Iceland—a trip that even now, just four days after having left, seemed like it occurred ages ago.

  “Mackenzie, I love you very much,” he said. “But are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “It feels right,” Mackenzie said.

  “Maybe it does. And it certainly does seem to line up with everything we’re looking for in a suspect. But this is a whole new ballgame. If I got to McGrath with the suggestion that our killer is a powerful lobbyist that is closely attached to what seems to be a clueless US Senator, you know he’s going to demand physical proof. And we just don’t have that.”

  “You’re right,” she said. She knew this just as well as Ellington did. Which was why she was fully prepared to go it on her own. The plan she had in mind was one of minimal risk, one she thought Ellington might get on board with.

  “I just want you to hear me out. I’ve got a plan and—”

  “You usually do,” he said with a smile.

  That smile told her everything she needed to know about the future of their marriage. In Ellington, she was going to have a husband who would always hear her out, a husband who would never shoot an idea down right away. He would always be in her corner and even if he disagreed with her, he would always hear her out.

  He did that then and there, in that moment. He listened to her as she walked him through the plan she had set up in her mind. She explained it very carefully, not wanting to miss a single detail. She knew that she was asking a lot of him—to do something a bit controversial behind McGrath’s back. But the risk was worth the potential gain. And even before she was done explaining what she had on mind, she could tell that Ellington felt the same way.

  And when she reached the end, he was nodding. The look of anxiousness on his face told her everything she needed to know. If she had any doubts, he said one single sentence that confirmed it for her.

  With a heavy sigh of resignation, he took her hand and said: “Okay…let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The conference was being held at the Capital View Conference Center. When Mackenzie and Ellington arrived there the following day, the conference itself started to make more sense to Mackenzie. There were big name speakers, of course—from Eric Connor, Neil Rooney, and even the current press secretary. After the main speakers were done, there were other, much smaller and lesser known figures, who were holding Q and As and even workshops on how to bolster interest in voting, international relations, and politics in general.

  When Mackenzie picked up one of the programs as they walked into the conference center, she saw that Eric Connor was hosting one of the smaller break-off sessions.

  She also saw something else she had seen on the website yesterday. The morning would start off with small speeches from the key speakers: a local musician who had just signed a major record deal and was currently making the transition to a political advocate, Neil Rooney, and then Eric Connor. They would be speaking in that order, meaning that sometime before ten a.m., Mackenzie would have the opportunity to carry out her plan.

  Directly beyond the small welcome center where she had picked up the program, there was a small security station. The attendees were being asked to file in through three different lanes, passing by guards with metal-detecting wands. As they filed into one of the lines, Mackenzie watched as people placed their loose change, cell phones, and other miscellaneous metallic items into small trays that were then passed behind the guards by another guard and given back to their owners.

  Ellington was in front of Mackenzie and when he reached the guard in their line, he quickly and very subtly flashed his FBI ID. Mackenzie did the same and they also both quickly pulled their jackets aside to show their sidearms. The guard gave a quick nod and ushered them through, drawing no attention to any of it.

  “I want to stress just one more time,” Ellington said, “just how much of a bad idea I think this is.”

  “You said it was a good idea last night.”

  “Well, the idea is good. And so is the conceptualization. I’m talking more along the lines of my pregnant wife taking part in it. And not letting our direct supervisor know what we’re up to.”

  Mackenzie wasn’t going to argue the point, so she said nothing. They made their way through the central lobby and entered the auditorium in the back of the building. It was a decent-sized space, seating around seven hundred or so. There was very light music playing, something upbeat and instrumental. The place was well lit as a few stagehands made some last-minute adjustments at the stage.

  Most of the seats down front were already filled, so Mackenzie and Ellington had to settle with seats along the fifth row from the stage. When she was seated, Mackenzie studied the place, making a map of possible outcomes in her head. She was quite certain the speakers would come out from the doorway in the back, behind the slightly risen stage and to the right. They’d likely exit that way as well. In terms of exits, there was a single door to the left, about halfway along the floor where all of the attendees would be seated. Other than that, there were the two sets of double doors they had come through.

  She assumed Dumfries would be sitting very close to the stage, or maybe even just hanging back behind the stage.
In other words, getting up close and personal with him was going to be tougher than she thought. Habitually, she reached into the inner pocket of her jacket, feeling the shape of her phone—hopefully the only weapon she’d be needing to use today.

  “You nervous?” Ellington asked.

  “No.”

  It was a lie. Her nerves were all over the place, which was not like her. Maybe that was because she knew exactly what was at stake. It could go one of two ways this morning: she’d leave here with enough evidence to file an official investigation and potentially have Dumfries arrested, or she’d leave empty-handed. It was an all or nothing situation that she truly started to feel the weight of as more and more people filed into the auditorium.

  Fifteen minutes later, the conference officially began. The event emcee came out and ran through a list of the day’s schedule and then introduced the first guest, the local politically motivated musician. Mackenzie had never heard of him and, therefore, found it easy to tune out and amp herself up for the next half an hour or so.

  The musician spoke for about twenty minutes and left the stage to a respectable amount of applause. The emcee came back out and introduced the next speaker. When the name “Neil Rooney” came out of his mouth, Mackenzie tensed up a bit. She watched Rooney come out to thunderous applause. He was a good-looking man in his late thirties and he knew how to work a crowd exceptionally well. His speech was short and sweet, extoling the importance of voting and the ability for both parties to reach across the aisle for the betterment of the country. He was off of the stage twelve minutes later, leaving the crowd cheering.

  No more than thirty seconds passed before the emcee came back out. He ran down the list of events for the afternoon and then transitioned into the introduction for the next speaker. When he introduced Eric Connor, there wasn’t quite as big of a reception as there had been for Rooney, but it was still impressive.

  Mackenzie found herself instantly looking down around at the audience. She’d seen a few pictures of Humphries online and he looked quite plain in all of them. Still, she thought she would recognize him in this crowd.

  Connor took a few moments to let the applause wash over him for a few moments while he waved and smiled to the crowd. Right away, she could see the charm in the man—from his smile to the way he carried himself. He was fifty-two and he could easily pass as forty. He had an almost Kennedy-like quality to him with just an edge of moodiness.

  When he spoke, his voice was soft but firm. He articulated each and every word and it was clear for his posture, stature, and ease that he knew how to work a crowd. Mackenzie listened to him as much as she could, thinking of how Earl Jackson had seemed so baffled and sad that Connor could keep company like Dumfries.

  On the stage, Connor spoke about making sure minorities were treated better in the next election and how the well-to-do could play their part in making that happen. He also spoke about how DC had a very negative stereotype when it came to getting things done—a stereotype he believed was a fair one but, with the help of voters and elected officials who actually gave a damn, could be changed in the course of a single election cycle.

  His speech went on for about half an hour as he gave examples of unprecedented voter turnouts in some of the county’s poorest areas. And he had to stop about every two or three minutes for applause breaks. The man knew what he was doing and she saw right away that if he wanted, he could easily have a much better career if he shot for larger elected offices. Of course, she remembered what Earl Jackson had said about Dumfries—how he preferred the shadows. She wondered if the same was true of Connor. Was he perfectly happy with his role as a Senator, or did he have bigger office-related goals?

  As his tone shifted and he ramped down a bit, Mackenzie could tell when his talk was wrapping up. Earlier, she had watched the emcee coming in and exiting from the door along the back behind the stage. As she tried to figure out a way to meet with Connor face to face—assuming that would be her best bet to confront Dumfries—he said something from the stage that she couldn’t quite believe…something that might make her plan infinitely simpler.

  “I’ve been told that we’ll be having a little intermission once I stop running my mouth,” he said with a chuckle. “About twenty minutes or so. During that time, I’ll be out in the lobby that you all entered through if anyone has questions or comments for me. I hope to see some of you out there!”

  With that, Eric Connor left the stage and, just like the emcee and the musician before him, he made his exit through the door behind the stage. Ellington nudged Mackenzie and gave her a can you believe this look. He looked excited, clearly feeling the same relief she was feeling.

  “Might as well be the first ones there to greet him,” Mackenzie said, already getting to her feet. But she didn’t give Connor any attention. She was too busy looking for Dumfries.

  And there he was. In the front row, getting up and heading to the right. He said something to a member of the security team, was allowed to the side of the stage, and then followed a few seconds behind Connor.

  Mackenzie and Ellington quickly got out of their seats and headed for the aisle that ran along the center of the room, between the two separate sections of seating. Others were already doing the same ahead of them but because they moved fast, Mackenzie felt that they wouldn’t have much of a wait. Just to be prepared, she went ahead and enacted the first part of her plan; she took her cell phone out of her pocket, opened up the voice recording app, and placed it back into her pocket with the app still running.

  As they neared the double doors that headed out to the lobby, Mackenzie took note of a man up by the rear wall. He was slowly approaching the doors and seemed to be looking directly at them. She had noticed a couple of cleverly placed security personnel throughout the morning—which made sense, given the stature of a few of the speakers. And while this man carried himself as such, he simply looked a little out of place.

  She was about to comment on this to Ellington as they neared the door but by then, there was no time. The man was at the door just as Ellington was about to pass through.

  “Agent?” the man asked, gently placing a hand on Ellington’s arm.

  Ellington looked at the man’s hand, resting on the top of his arm, and said, “Yeah?”

  “Could I have a word with you?”

  A look of skepticism came over Ellington’s face. He shook the man’s hand away from his arm and said, “What do you need?”

  “Just a word. I believe there might be something you need to hear…something urgent. I’m trying to be as discreet as possible without causing a scene here. It won’t take two minutes.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m with the security team.”

  Ellington looked back at Mackenzie and then out into the lobby where a small crowd was already forming as Eric Connor appeared from around the corner.

  “It’s okay,” Mackenzie said. “I’ll meet you out there. I’ll wait for you before…”

  Ellington nodded but still didn’t seem very comfortable with the situation. Still, he gave Mackenzie one last glance as he quickly followed the security employee back along the aisle and down toward the stage.

  That’s odd, Mackenzie thought as she walked through the doorway and into the lobby. It must be something fairly serious if the security team kept in mind that there were FBI agents in attendance. But why only Ellington?

  Something did indeed seem off about it. She tried to figure out what it was as she joined the crowd. It was still growing, people filing in from the auditorium and from the hallways along the sides. She noted that there were two cameramen in attendance as well, the logos of local news programs on the sides of their cameras. Diligent reporters stood beside them, waiting for Connor to make a brief statement before taking questions from the gathered crowd.

  And there was Dumfries, to his right. He wasn’t at his right hand, but he was close. Earl Jackson hadn’t been kidding about how the two were linked. Something about it seemed a
little venomous to Mackenzie…as if there was one there to protect the other, to strike if the other was attacked.

  She tried her best to think of how to go about the next step. Her original plan was to go after Connor—to ask about having former employees clean up the messes that his lobbyist friends made. It would be a cheap shot for sure but she knew how men in control worked. If she pushed hard enough, Dumfries would show something. She’d seen it numerous times during interrogations and takedowns.

  If she had to, she’d drop the name of one of the women she now felt fairly certain were his victims. The look on his face at the mention of the names would likely tell all of the story.

  Of course, this is the first man I will have ever accused of something so blatantly that has a very public reputation to uphold, she thought.

  Two rows of people were all that separated her from Connor when he gave a very brief introductory speech. “Most of you know how these things go,” he said, his tone casual and conversational. “Let’s keep it clean, quick, and simple. If you’re with the press and require a little more time, I can make some time once the conference kicks back up. Now, which of you fine folks would like to ask the first question?”

  The question was on Mackenzie’s tongue. She was fully prepared to shout it out over the din of the crowd—a group of people that had now grown to about fifty people or so.

  But before she could get the question out, a young man directly in front of Connor asked a question about property taxes. Connor answered. Beside him, separated by only two other people—one of whom she was pretty sure was security in disguise—stood Bruce Dumfries.

  Slowly, she stepped forward. She wanted her voice recorder to catch everything that was said.

  “Any other questions?” Connor asked.