Before he Kills (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1) (17 page)

As soon as she returned home, Mackenzie
immediately went to the couch and hurried to the clutter of paperwork she had
left on the coffee table. It was ironic in a way; she’d thought the house would
be tidier after Zack had left, but instead, her work clutter had replaced his
mess. For just a moment, she wondered where he was and what he was doing. But
the thought lasted only a handful of seconds. It was replaced by the thought
that had escorted her home, still whirling through her head like a stray breeze
across a desert floor.

God is at the center of all things.

She scoured through the papers on the
table and came to the two maps—the Old Testament Cities of Refuge map and the
local one showing the area within one hundred miles. She overlaid them against
one another and looked at them contemplatively. She then focused on the local
map and stared at the Xs she had placed there with a black Sharpie, tracing
them with her finger. She then encompassed the Xs, connecting them all with a
line and drawing the implied circle that the locations made.

With the circle drawn, she turned her
attention to the inside of the circle. Grabbing the nearest pen, she traced a
faint line from each of the six “cities” like spokes on a wheel from the edges
of the circle.

God is at the center of all things.

The lines all met in the center of the
circle. She drew another, much smaller circle where all of the lines connected.
It encompassed a section of the downtown district not too far away from where
they had apprehended Clive Traylor a few days ago. Along the very edge of this
new smaller circle she saw the squiggly line that indicated a river—in this
case, Danvers River, the little waterway that etched its way through a park
downtown, along the backside of several rundown downtown properties and then
eventually emptied out into Sapphire Lake.

It was hard to tell from the map, but
she was pretty sure her new circle included two or three different streets and
a small cluster of forest that separated the western downtown region from the
edge of Sapphire Lake.

This was the center of the killings—the
central point that existed between the killer’s sites, so-called cities. If
this man felt that he was, in a way, God, or working under the guidance of God,
then he probably thought he existed in the center of it all. And if God was at
the center of all things, this central point was very likely his home.

She simply sat there for a moment, a
familiar twinge of excitement starting to bloom in her heart. She knew she had
a decision to make and that it could very well decide the outcome of her
career. She could call Nelson and give him this bit of information, but she was
pretty sure he wouldn’t take her call. And even if he took her seriously, she
feared that the idea would be placed on the back burner.

The site they had discovered with the
pole already in place meant that the killer had been on the verge of striking
again. What if he already had a woman ready for his next sacrifice? And what if
he had to think outside of the box since his other three murder sites were
under surveillance?

To hell with it
, she thought.

Mackenzie jumped to her feet, brushing
much of the paperwork off of the table in her hurry and excitement. She went
into the bedroom to retrieve her service pistol and as she holstered it to her
belt, her cell phone rang. The sudden and unexpected sound of it made her jump
slightly and she had to take a moment to calm her nerves before answering it.
Looking at the display, she saw that it was Ellington again.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Oh wow,” Ellington said. “I wasn’t
expecting you to answer. I was just going to leave a message letting you know I
was turning in for the night and for you to call me tomorrow with news on the
arrest. Are you not there yet?”

“Oh, I’ve gone and already come back. It
wasn’t the killer.”

He paused.

“And you found that out in less than
half an hour?”

“Yes. It was obvious. Nelson and his
men, they, well, they weren’t exactly on top of things.”

“Too eager to make an arrest?”

“Something like that,” she said as she
finished holstering the gun.

“You okay?” Ellington asked. “You sound
really rushed.”

She almost didn’t tell him—she almost
kept her new theory quiet. If she turned out to be wrong on this, it could turn
out very badly—especially if someone knew what she was up to beforehand. Yet,
on the other hand, she felt that she was
not
wrong; she felt it in her
heart, her gut, her bones. And if she
was
missing something or jumping
to conclusion, Ellington was the most logical person she knew.

“White?”

“I think I figured something out,” Mackenzie
said. “About the killer. About where he lives.”

“What?” He sounded shocked. “How’s
that?”

She quickly told him about her
conversation with Pastor Hooks and how she had located the center of things
with the map. As she spoke it out loud, she became ever more convinced that
this was it. This was finally the right path that would lead them to the
killer.

When she was done, there was silence on
the line for a moment. She braced herself, expecting the usual criticism she
always received.

“You think it’s flawed?” she asked.

“No. Not at all. I think it’s genius.”

She was surprised herself, and felt
motivated.

“What did Nelson say?” he asked.

“I haven’t called him. I’m not going
to.”

“You have to,” he urged.

“No I don’t. He doesn’t want me on the
case. And after the exchange we had at the station, I doubt he’d even take my
call.”

“Well then let me shoot the lead to the
State guys.”

“Too risky,” she said. “If it turns out
to be a dead end, who does the blame come back to? You? Me? Either scenario
would not be good.”

“That’s true,” Ellington said. “But what
if it’s
not
a dead end? What if you apprehend the killer? You’ll have to
call Nelson anyway.”

“But at least I’ll have results. And as
long as I catch the bastard, I really don’t care what my consequences are.”

“Look,” he said sounding frustrated,
“you can’t do this. Not alone.”

“I have to,” she said. “We have no idea
when he’s going to kill again. I can’t sit on this until Nelson is ready to
talk to me again or until your guys decide it’s worth their time to come down
here.”

“I could present the idea as my own,”
Ellington said. “Maybe that would speed things up on the Bureau end.”

“I thought of that,” Mackenzie said.
“But when’s the soonest you’d have agents out here?”

His sigh from the other end told her he
knew she was right.

“Probably about five or six hours,” he
answered. “And that’s being optimistic.”

“So you see my point.”

“And you see how you’re putting me in an
awkward position,” he countered. “If you go out there and something happens to
you, I
have
to say something to my supervisor. If you get harmed or
killed and it’s discovered that I knew about your plan, that’s my ass on the
line.”

“I guess I just have to make sure I
don’t get hurt or killed.”

“Damn it, White—”

“Thanks for the concern, Ellington. But
this has to be done now.”

She ended the call before he could say
anything else that might sway her out of her decision. Even now with the call
ended, she wondered if this was being too reckless. She’d be on her own,
venturing into darkness with specific orders not to get involved in the case.
Worse than that, she’d potentially be on the turf of a killer they knew very
little about.

She walked through the living room and
out the front door before she could change her mind. Breathing in the crisp
night air seemed to push aside any doubt. She ran her hand along the shape of
the pistol holstered in her belt and it calmed her a bit.

Wasting no more time, she dashed to her
car and started the ignition. She peeled out of her driveway and headed west,
the night unrolling before her like some dark curtain on a stage that was
finally about to open.

She’d listened to him rummaging around
in the house all day. On occasion, he’d sing hymns, one of which she knew from
sitting on her grandmother’s lap in a small pew in a rural Baptist church. She
was pretty sure it was called “How Great Thou Art.” Each time he hummed it she
felt a fresh wave of nausea and fear, knowing what he had done to her—and what
he would do.

As she’d listened to his singing and
movements, she’d tried to get to her feet again. If she’d had on clothes, it
would have been easier. She’d managed to roll to the far wall, place her back
against it, and slowly lift herself up. Even then, though, her calves started to
stretch and burn due to her ankles being so tightly tied together. Because she
had worked up such a sweat by that point, her back would slip against the wall
and she’d slip right back to the ground on her backside.

Now, wrists bleeding from the abrasions
the ropes had etched into her skin, she backed up against the wall again. Her
legs felt like putty and the scratches she’d gotten along her back stung like
bee stings. Whimpering, she tried again, pushing against the wall while she
pushed herself up by her feet. When she reached the point where her ankles and
calves started to burn, she simply forced herself through the pain and extended
her legs.

As she stood up fully, her legs wobbled
and she almost fell right away. But she pressed against the wall and managed to
keep her balance.

Okay, now what?

She didn’t know. She was just relieved
to finally be on her feet. She figured if she could get through the doorway a
few feet to her right, she might be able to find a phone and call the police.
She’d heard him open the door and close it all day. She supposed he was going
outside for small periods of time and coming back in. If she could get just a
glimpse of what was going on elsewhere in the house, maybe she could get out of
this alive.

She slunk against the wall and made it
to the doorway. Her skin broke out into goose bumps as sweat coated her body.
She felt her body trembling and she wanted to cry, to sink back to the floor.
She scanned the room, looking for any sharp instrument with which she could
sever her wrist ties.

But there was none.

She felt like giving up. This was too
much, she though, too hard.

With her back to the door, she fumbled
for the doorknob. When she had it in her hands, she turned it slowly. There was
a slight
click
as the tumbler removed itself from the doorframe.

She stepped away from the door, letting
it slowly swing open. She could feel the fresh air from the other side of the
door and she wondered if anything had ever felt so good in her life.

She turned around slowly, trying to move
as quietly as she could. She’d find a phone to call someone, or an open window.
Sure, her hands and legs were tied up but she’d risk a fall just to get out of
here.

But when she fully turned, facing the
doorway, he was standing there.

Her scream was blocked by the cloth gag
over her mouth. He smiled at her and stepped into the room. He placed a hand on
her bare shoulder and caressed her there. Then, with his smile widening, he
shoved her. She went sprawling to the ground and when she did, her shoulder
bounced awkwardly. She screamed again and it turned into a deep sob.

“You’ll be free soon enough,” he told
her.

He got down on his knees and again
placed a hand on her shoulder, as if for reassurance.

“We’ll both be free, and it will be
glorious.”

He left the room and when he closed it,
she could hear an additional clicking noise as he set the lock. She wept,
feeling like she might suffocate because of the gag. And all the while, he
moved around downstairs, singing hymns to the same God that she found herself desperately
praying to on his dusty floor.

*

He did not like working under pressure.
He also did not like change, especially when things had been so carefully
planned and thought out. Yet here he was, having to alter his plans halfway
through his work. There were three more cities to raise, three more sacrifices.
One was propped and ready to go but he still had no idea how he would carry out
the other two.

For now, he had to take it one step at a
time. For now, the fourth city was all he was concerned about.

He thought he’d adjusted well in light
of recent events. It had been the work of God that he had driven by the planned
site of the fourth city just in time to see the police presence. The men of the
world were on to him and would do whatever they could to stop his work. But
God, sovereign and all-knowing, was protecting him. He had prayed then, and God
had told him that it was the work that mattered, not the location of the
sacrifice.

He had adjusted accordingly. And he had
done well, as far as he was concerned.

For instance, the woman was no longer in
the upstairs room, the place he had left her in an hour before. Now, she was in
the shed. She was in the fetal position, her arms pulled behind her and her
knees drawn up. Her ankles and wrists were bound together, the rope given some
slack so she would not accidentally pop her shoulder out of its socket. She had
to be unblemished when he put her upon the pole. God would not accept
sacrifices with flaws.

He studied her for a moment as he stood
against the pole that he had just finished erecting in the shed. This woman was
quite pretty, prettier than the others for sure. Her driver’s license placed
her age at nineteen, and he read she was originally from Los Angeles. He did
not know why the woman had come here, but he knew that God had placed her in
his path. The girl did not know it, but she should feel honored. She did not
realize that she had been selected even before she was born to be sacrificed
for the glory of God.

He never bothered trying to explain this
to the women. They would not listen.

He had stripped this one completely
naked. He’d left the bra and underwear on the others because he did not want to
risk temptation. But this one had been such a perfect sacrifice that he could
not help himself. He had never seen breasts so perfect, not even in movies or
magazines.

He knew he must be punished for looking
at her flesh in such a way. He’d be sure to repent of that sin, to hurt himself
many times tonight.

After setting up the pole, he’d gone to
the hardware store and purchased a roll of plastic covering. He’d spent half an
hour covering the floor of the shed with it, using staples rather than nails,
as they would be easier to remove later on. Setting up the pole in the shed and
then covering the floor with the sheets of plastic had been laborious work, but
it had been good for him. In a way, it had made him more appreciative of the
sacrifice to come. Working this hard to make way for a sacrifice made him feel
more worthy.

He stopped and took a deep breath, admiring
his handiwork.

It was almost time now.

He had to pray first and then he would
string the woman up. He’d have to tighten the gag because he had never given a
sacrifice in such a populated area. One slip and a neighbor would hear her
screams as the whip came down. But he would worry about that after she was tied
to the pole.

First, prayer and repentance. He needed
to pray that his cities—his sacrifices—would be pleasing to God and that his
work would exemplify His glory and love for man.

He got to his knees in front of the
pole. Before he closed his eyes to pray, he looked to the woman again. Quiet
understanding seemed to spread across her face and seeing this, he went into
prayer with a great sense of peace.

It was almost as if she knew that there
was a great reward waiting for her afterwards, as if she knew she would receive
that reward and be released from this world of filth before the hour was
through.