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Before he Kills
CHAPTER THIRTY
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.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
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.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Mackenzie parked her car at the end of the block in this dilapidated neighborhood, and pulled up a close-range map of the area on her cell phone before getting out of her car. She knew that her search would consist of a one-block radius along three different streets: Harrison, Colegrove, and Inge.
She knew that Inge Street could be crossed off of her list because the houses along this end of the street were vacant, having been condemned several years ago. She knew this because it was a popular locale for drug deals and gang activity. She’d netted her first drug bust here and had also had to pull her sidearm for the first time in her career just a few streets over.
Colegrove and Harrison streets, though, were fully occupied and managing to hang on in this otherwise deteriorating part of town. These were people with menial jobs that usually spent their paychecks on liquor, lottery tickets, and, if they had money left over, fast food dinners most nights of the week.
Before getting out, she pulled up Ellington’s number. She texted him the street names and then signed off with: If you don’t hear from me within a few hours, call someone and send them here.
She then set her phone to silent and stepped out into the night.
Mackenzie walked down Harrison Street at a steady pace, not wanting to seem overly suspicious at such a late hour even though any single woman walking down these streets after dark would be seen as foolish. She kept an eye out for houses with trucks or vans on the property, and spotted two residences that fit the description.
The first house had a van out front, parked in the small driveway. Worn vinyl lettering along the side of the white van read Smith Brothers Plumbing.
Slinking through the shadows as quickly as she could, Mackenzie went to the side of the van and peered into the passenger side window. She could barely see into the back but she did manage to see a corner of a toolbox. In the front, tucked between the seats and console as well as between the dashboard and the windshields, she saw several invoice sheets. On the top of a few, she saw the same artwork that was on the side of the van, marking the invoices as Smith Brothers Plumbing.
With that house eliminated from her search, she moved on to the next house. A black truck sat outside along the curb. It was a newer model, adorned with a Don’t Tread On Me bumper sticker and a decal in the back glass indicating the owner was a Vietnam vet. She looked into the back of the truck for any sign that it had carried a large cedar pole recently but saw nothing. While she didn’t want to rule a vet out just because of their service to the country, Mackenzie did find the thought of a man reaching seventy putting up those poles by himself hard to imagine.
She reached the end of the block and then turned right toward Colegrove Street. She could hear the thumping of thunderous bass from a nearby house blasting rap music. As she passed by each house looking for trucks or vans, she caught glimpses of the murky Danvers River reflecting the moonlight far behind the houses.
There was one truck parked alongside the street right in front of her. Even before she approached it, she saw that it was not the truck she was looking for. The back tires were flat and it showed signs of neglect that made her think it had been given up on years ago.
She was halfway down the street, peering ahead and seeing nothing but cars the rest of the way down, some in scant driveways but most along the curb. There were six in all, one new model among the other five rusted heaps.
She was just starting to feel that she had unraveled yet another unsuccessful theory when she spotted the house on her left. An older model Honda Accord sat along the curb. A small stretch of overgrown front yard led to a badly maintained chain-link fence that extended to an equally poor wooden fence that separated the yard from the neighboring property. She walked further along the property and froze when she got to the opposite side of the house.
The chain-link fence was nowhere to be seen, apparently coming to a closure point in the backyard. What she did see, though, was a makeshift driveway that was nothing more than flattened grass and thin dirt tracks. She followed the tracks with her eyes and saw that they ended where an old green Ford pickup was parked. It sat front end out, the grille and dead headlights staring right at her.
Mackenzie glanced to the house and saw that a single light was on. It cast very little light, making her think it was a lamp or a hallway light from further back in the house.
Moving quickly, she dashed into the yard, following the course of the flattened grass to the truck. She looked into the truck through the driver’s side window and saw some old fast food bags and other trash.
Among it all, sitting in the center of the bench-like seat, was a Bible.
With adrenaline pumping into her heart, she reached for the driver’s side door. She was not at all surprised when she found it locked.
She went to the back of the truck and saw that the tailgate was down. She peered into it and saw no clear indication of what it had recently carried, though it was hard see anything in the dark.
She looked behind her into the backyard and saw that her assumption had been correct; the chain-link fence ran the length of the yard and then came up and around where it stopped alongside a shed. She could not see any windows, but she could see a trace of light issuing from a space along the shed door.
She stepped into the backyard, inching closer to the chain-link fence. As the shed came into view, she started to think the light was indeed something smaller, a candle, perhaps. With her curiosity now morphing into something very close to caution, she came to the edge of the fence. She crouched low to the ground as she neared the faint glow coming from between the small crack along the door and the frame.
She started to look for a way through the fence, fearing that crawling over it might make too much noise. As she did this, her eyes fell on another shape alongside the shed. She’d missed it before, as it was low to the ground and cloaked in shadows. But now that she was no more than ten feet from the shed, the shape was clear and defined.
Actually, it was two shapes.
Two cedar poles, cut to roughly eight feet in length.
She knew she should wait for backup.
But she sensed, with all that she was, that there was no time.
So, with fire in her muscles and her nerves firing on all cylinders, she reached up and grabbed the chain-link fence.
And then she began to climb.
