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Before he Sees
With that, they made their exit. Mackenzie shuddered a bit when she heard Caleb break down in a sobbing fit before they were able to shut the door behind them.
That sound did something to her…something that reminded her of home. The last time she’d felt such a thing was the moment back in Nebraska when she had become absolutely consumed with the task of stopping the Scarecrow Killer. She felt that all-consuming need again as they stepped out onto Caleb Kellerman’s front steps, and she slowly realized that she would stop at nothing until she caught this killer.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You can’t do that,” Bryers said the moment they were back in the car, he taking the wheel.
“I can’t do what?”
He sighed and tried his best to seem sincere rather than disciplinary. “I know you’ve probably never been in this exact situation before, but you can’t tell the family of a victim that no, the killer isn’t going to get away. You can’t give them hope if there is none. Hell, even if there is hope, you can’t say something like that.”
“I know,” she said, disappointed. “I knew it the moment the word was out of my mouth. I’m sorry.”
“No need for apologies. Just try to keep your head on straight. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Because Bryers knew the city better than Mackenzie, he drove them to the Department of Public Transportation. He drove with some urgency and requested that Mackenzie call ahead to make sure they could speak to someone that knew what they were talking about and could get them in and out of there in a hurry. It was such a simple method, but Mackenzie was impressed with the efficiency of it. It was a far cry from what she’d experienced in Nebraska for sure.
During the half hour drive, Bryers filled the car with conversation. He wanted to know all about her time on the force in Nebraska, most notably the Scarecrow Killer case. He asked about college and her interests. She was happy enough to give him the surface-level information but didn’t go too deep – mainly because he wasn’t going very deep himself.
In fact, Bryers seemed reserved. When Mackenzie asked him about his family, he kept it as general as he could without being rude. “A wife, two boys that are off to college, and a dog that’s on its last legs.”
Well, Mackenzie thought. It’s only our first day together and he doesn’t know me at all – just what he read about me in the papers six months ago and from whatever is in my file with the Academy. I don’t blame him for not opening up just yet.
When they arrived at the Department of Public Transportation, Mackenzie still held a favorable opinion of the elder agent but there was a tension between them that she couldn’t quite grasp. Maybe he didn’t feel it; maybe it was just her. The fact that he had basically waved off any questions she asked him about his work made her uncomfortable. It also made her quickly remember that this was not her job yet. She was simply riding along as a favor to Ellington, a way to test her wheels, so to speak.
She was also involved in all of this due to some shady dealings in back rooms where the higher-ups were taking a gamble on her. It added a whole new level of risk not only for her, but for the people she was working with – Bryers and Ellington included.
The Department of Transportation was located inside of a building with about ten other departments housed within it. Mackenzie followed Agent Bryers through the hallways as best she could. He walked quickly, nodding to people here and there as if he were familiar with the place. A few people seemed to recognize him, giving him quick smiles and waves here and there. The day was coming to an end, so people seemed to be milling about quickly, waiting for five o’clock.
As they came to the section of the building they needed, Mackenzie started to allow herself to appreciate the moment. Four hours ago, she’d been coming out of McClarren’s class and now she was somehow knee deep in a homicide case, working with an agent that seemed to be well conditioned and damn good at his job.
They approached a counter where Bryers leaned slightly over it and eyed the young woman sitting behind a desk immediately in front of them. “We called about speaking to someone about the bus schedules,” he explained to the woman. “Agents White and Bryers.”
“Oh yes,” the receptionist said. “You’ll be speaking to Mrs. Percell. She is out back in the bus garage. It’s all the way down the hall, down the stairs, and out the back.”
They followed the receptionist’s directions, heading to the back of the building where Mackenzie could already hear the humming of engines and the rumbling of machinery. The building was constructed in such a way that the noise was not at all noticeable in the busier, nicer parts of the building but here in the back, it sounded almost like an auto garage.
“When we meet this Mrs. Percell,” Bryers said, “I want you to take the lead.”
“Okay,” Mackenzie said, still feeling like she was taking some sort of weird exam.
They took the stairs down, following a sign labeled Garage / Bus Lot. Downstairs, a thin hallway led into a small open office. A man in mechanic’s scrubs stood behind an antiquated computer, typing something in. Through a large picture window, Mackenzie was able to look out into a large garage. Several city buses were parked there, undergoing maintenance. As she watched, a door in the back of the office opened and a cheerful-looking overweight woman entered from the garage.
“Are you the FBI folks?”
“That’s us,” Mackenzie said. Beside her, Bryers flashed his badge – probably because she didn’t have one to show. Percell seemed satisfied with the credentials and started talking right away.
“I understand you have questions about the bus schedules and the rotation of drivers,” she said.
“That’s correct,” Mackenzie replied. “We’re hoping to find out what stop a certain bus made three mornings ago and, if possible, to get a word with the driver.”
“Sure,” she said. She went over to the small desk where the mechanic was typing and nudged him playfully. “Doug, let me take the wheel, would you?”
“Gladly,” he said with a smile. He stepped away from the desk and headed out to the garage as Mrs. Percell sat down behind the computer. She hit a few keys and then looked up to them proudly, obviously glad to be of service.
“Where’s the stop in question?”
“At the corner of Carlton and Queen Street,” Mackenzie said.
“What time would the person have gotten on?”
“Eight twenty in the morning.”
Mrs. Percell typed the information in quickly and scanned the screen for a moment before giving her answer. “That was bus number 2021, driven by Michael Garmond. That bus makes three stops before reporting back to that same bus stop for a nine thirty-five pickup.”
“We need to speak with Mr. Garmond,” Mackenzie said. “Could we have his information, please?”
“I can do better than that,” Mrs. Percell said. “Michael is out in the garage right now, signing out for the day. Let me see if I can grab him for you.”
“Thanks,” Mackenzie said.
Mrs. Percell dashed to the garage door with speed that defied her size. Mackenzie and Bryers watched her amble expertly through the garage in search of Michael Garmond.
“If only everyone was that enthusiastic about helping the feds,” Bryers said with a grin. “Trust me…don’t get used to this.”
In less than a minute, Mrs. Percell returned into the small office, followed by an elderly black man. He looked tired but, like Mrs. Percell, more than happy to help.
“Hey, folks,” he said, giving a tired smile. “How can I help you?”
“We’re looking for details about a woman that we are fairly confident got on your bus at the eight twenty stop at the corner of Carlton and Queen three mornings ago,” Mackenzie said. “Do you think you could help us with that?”
“Probably,” Michael said. “There aren’t too many people at that stop in the mornings. I never get more than four or five.”
Bryers pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through it for a bit, pulling up a photograph of Susan Kellerman. “This is her,” he said. “Does she look familiar?”
“Hey, yeah, she does,” Michael said, a bit too excited in Mackenzie’s opinion. “Sweet girl. Always really nice.”
“Do you recall where she got off the bus three mornings ago?”
“I do,” Michael said. “And I thought it was weird because every other morning for about two weeks or so, she was getting off at another bus stop. I talked to her a bit one morning and found out she walked two blocks from her usual stop to work at some office. But three days ago, she got off at the station instead of a stop. I watched her hop on another bus. I kind of hoped she’d gotten some better job or something, so she was taking a different route.”
“Where was that?” Mackenzie asked.
“Dupont Circle.”
“What time would you say she got off the bus there?”
“Probably around eight forty-five or so,” Michael answered. “No later than nine o’clock for sure.”
“We can check that in our records,” Mrs. Percell said.
“That would be great,” Bryers said.
Mrs. Percell went back to work behind the grimy little desk as Michael looked at the agents forlornly. He looked back to the picture on Bryers’s phone and frowned. “Something bad happened to her?” he asked.
“In fact, yes,” Mackenzie said. “So if there’s anything you can tell us about her that morning, that would be great.”
“Well, she was carrying a case, like the kind salespeople carry around. Not like a briefcase, but a tacky case, you know? She sold stuff for a living – like health supplements and things like that. I was guessing she had a customer she was seeing.”
“Do you know which bus she got on after yours?” Mackenzie asked.
“Well, I don’t recall the number of the bus, but I remember seeing Black Mill Street up on the destination indicator in the windshield. I thought that was pretty sketchy…no reason for that pretty little thing to be going to that part of town.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, the neighborhood itself is okay, I guess. The houses aren’t too bad and I think most of the folks are decent people. But it’s one of those places where the not-so nice people hang around and do their business. When I was trained for this job six years ago, they filled the drivers in on places to keep an eye out for danger. Black Mill Street was one of them.”
Mackenzie thought all of this over and realized that they had gotten all of the valuable information there was to get from Michael Garmond. She wanted to seem efficient in front of Bryers but she also didn’t want to seem as if she wasted time on trivial details.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Garmond,” Mackenzie said.
From the desk, Mrs. Percell added: “The stop at Dupont Circle was at eight forty-eight, Agents.”
When they turned and made their exit, they were quiet until they made it back to the stairs. When they started climbing them, it was Bryers who broke the silence.
“How long have you been in Quantico?” he asked.
“Eleven weeks.”
“So you’re probably not familiar with the outskirts of the city, huh?”
“No.”
“Never been up to Black Mill Street?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Mackenzie said.
“You’re not missing much. But hey, maybe we won’t have to go that far. We’ll start at Dupont Circle and have a look around. Maybe we can find something on the security cameras.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now,” Bryers said. There was an edge of annoyance to his voice, the first sign that he was beginning to tire of carting around the rookie no matter how promising she was. “When there’s a killer on the loose, we don’t really punch a clock.”
Several retorts came to her tongue, but she kept them choked down. He was right, anyway. If she’d learned anything from her ordeal with the Scarecrow Killer, it was that when you were chasing down a killer that seemingly had no MO, every minute was precious.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dupont Circle Station was just starting to slow down from the busyness of the five o’clock afternoon rush when Mackenzie and Bryers arrived. The conversation along the way was once again surface-level and stale as Bryers remained quiet and reserved. As they stepped out of the car and walked toward the station, Mackenzie truly felt awkward for the first time. She didn’t think he resented her yet, but he was likely having second thoughts about whatever scheme he and Ellington had cooked up.
Bryers finally cracked their silence as they entered the station. He stepped to the side of the doors and watched the crowd of people threading through the place.
“You familiar with this place?” he asked.
“No,” Mackenzie said. “I’ve always gone through Union Station.”
Bryers shrugged. “It doesn’t matter which station you’re at; there’s always going to be a corner somewhere that’s a little seedier than the rest of the place. The rough part is that it’s usually well hidden.”
“So you’re thinking she was taken on her way back home? You think someone grabbed her here when she was in between buses?”
“It’s a possibility. What do you think?”
“I think we should be checking Black Mill Street. You and the bus driver said the place was bad news.”
“And we’ll probably end up there,” Bryers said. “But I’m playing a hunch here. You work this city long enough you start to accumulate a sort of hunch about certain things.”
His cryptic talk was annoying, but she figured she could actually learn something if she could just shut up and watch. After a minute or so of standing by the doors and watching the crowd, Bryers moved slowly forward, motioning for Mackenzie to follow him. She stayed close, but not so close that she was crowding him. He walked through the crowd nonchalantly, as if he had no real purpose for being there. He blended in quite well; only someone who really took the time to study him might suspect that he was some sort of law enforcement official.
They made their way through the main concourse and out toward where six buses were waiting. Passengers were stepping off of two of the buses while the others idled, waiting for passengers. As they headed toward the buses, Mackenzie looked at the destination indicators above the windshields. As far as she could tell, the next stops for these buses were all within the DC historic district or Georgetown.
“Over here,” Bryers said.
Mackenzie looked away from the buses and stayed behind Bryers as he walked further down the concourse. The buses were behind them now as the crowd thinned out a bit. Out of nowhere, the scene seemed to change simply by rounding a corner. There were fewer people in casual or business-casual attire. She saw a homeless man sitting against the wall and three teenagers dressed in mostly black, adorned with large earrings, nose piercings, and tattoos everywhere.
Bryers slowed as they rounded this corner, again taking in the scene. Mackenzie did the same, trying to observe the layout of the place and the makeup of the people the same way he did. It only took a few seconds before she saw something that instantly put her on guard.
A young man with a short, nearly military buzz haircut and dressed in a plain T-shirt and jeans was speaking to a girl that was surely no older than sixteen. Mackenzie knew the look on her face because it was easy to read on most girls her age: she was liking the attention the guy was giving her, but was also uncomfortable in being approached. She saw that the guy had a hand in his pocket. She was pretty sure he wasn’t packing, but there were numerous other things that he could be concealing.
Without looking over his shoulder to speak to her, Bryers asked: “You see him?”
“Twenty-something buzz-cut speaking to the minor?” she said.
“Bingo.”
Still, they did not move. Mackenzie knew why even though she already didn’t like the way the scene was playing out. Bryers was waiting for the creep to make a move – to do something that would warrant someone of Bryers’s authority to step in and intervene.
They watched the scene unfold as they did what they could to blend in. Mackenzie felt herself wanting to surge forward as it played out predictably. The guy inched closer and closer. He was doing a lot of smiling and trying to look the girl in the eyes. She smiled back flirtatiously but looked at the ground more than she looked at him.
Slowly, he reached out and touched her shoulder. His hand rested there for a while before the girl stepped awkwardly away. The creep followed up by laughing and then stepping into her, placing his arm around her. He tried pulling her close but the girl stepped away. A look of frustration flashed across the guy’s face before he stepped forward again, with a bit of anger this time. When he reached out to put his arm around her again, Bryers stepped forward. Mackenzie followed along, trying to make herself remain in the role of a student.
“Is there a problem here?” Bryers asked, stepping into the girl’s path. “Is this guy harassing you?”
The girl looked up, surprised. She looked instantly relieved but then looked back to the ground, maybe a little embarrassed.
“I don’t think so,” the girl said. “Some guys just don’t take no for an answer.”
“Shut up, bitch,” the crewcut guy said. He then looked directly at Bryers and said: “What business is it of yours, anyway?”
Bryers withdrew his ID so fast that it was like watching a gunslinger go for his irons. “It’s my business in more ways than you want to imagine,” he said.
“Oh,” crewcut said. “Well, I think I might – ”
And then he turned and ran.
“Ah, hell,” Bryers said. He started to take off after the young man but Mackenzie couldn’t stay still any longer.
“You stay with the girl,” she said. “I’ll get him.”
“Are you sure?” Bryers asked. “I don’t know if – ”
“I’m sure,” she said, already starting to sprint after the suspect.
Without looking back for confirmation from Bryers, Mackenzie dashed forward. There wasn’t much of a crowd assembled along the concourse, giving her few obstacles to contend with. Within two seconds, she knew she’d catch up to the creep easily. He was running on panic and fear while her own strides were balanced and controlled.
The idiot even stopped to look over his shoulder, further giving her the edge. When he saw that she was on his heels, he found another gear. But by then, Mackenzie already had him. She gave an extra push, finding her own next gear, and got within arms’ reach of him. The few people standing in her way saw what was occurring and had stepped out of the way, mainly for their own safety but also to watch what might happen.
Her hand fell on his shoulder and all it took was a hard push downward to halt him. His feet slid out from underneath him and he went to the cement sidewalk on his back. He let out a cry that was nearly comical but the hard impactful noise of his body hitting the pavement was not funny at all.
She took a moment to gauge his condition and when she was confident he had broken nothing and was still coherent, she dropped a knee into his chest and looked back toward Bryers. He was jogging along, looking rather concerned. The girl they had perhaps rescued was striding along beside him. She looked a bit frightened but also excited. Mackenzie saw a bit of joy in her face when she spotted her would-be harasser pinned on the ground.
All around them, a few bystanders started to applaud. Others looked slightly horrified at what they had just witnessed. Bryers flashed his badge to the gathered crowd. “Get going,” he said. “The show is over. Get moving, everyone.”
When they started to break up and continue on their respective ways, Bryers came over to Mackenzie and dropped to a knee.
“Up, please,” Bryers said curtly.
Mackenzie got up, trying to gauge the expression on his face. He was angry, that much was clear. She wondered if she had been a little too rough in bringing the suspect down. Or maybe she shouldn’t have given chase without his express permission.
As she got to her feet, Bryers slowly helped the perp to his feet. Mackenzie saw that the guy was bleeding from a small cut along the right side of his head. That side of his face was also a little red. She was positive he’d have one hell of a bruise there tomorrow.
“Come with me for a second,” Bryers said.
“Get your hands off of me, man!”
Bryers grabbed the guy’s arm and drew him close. “Remember that badge I showed you? The one that sent you running like a lunatic? That badge says you listen to me or find yourself in a world of trouble. Got me?”
“Whatever, man,” the guy said. He stopped struggling against Bryers then and allowed himself to be led away from the gathering crowd.
Bryers cut his eyes in Mackenzie’s direction but didn’t actually look at her. It was pretty clear that he was pissed. “Check out the girl while I handle this mess,” he said.
It was not a question, not a request…it was a demand. He was asking her to babysit while he questioned the suspect. And maybe she deserved it…but it felt awful.
Mackenzie watched him go as she walked over to the girl. She tried to ignore Bryers’s reaction as she led the girl to a nearby bench. They sat down together but it was clear that the girl wanted to be long gone.
“Are you okay?” Mackenzie asked.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Do you know that guy?” Mackenzie asked.
“No. He just came up to me when I got off of the bus and started talking to me.”
“What did he talk about?”
“Oh, he didn’t waste any time. He said how pretty I was and then asked how old I was. When I told him I was sixteen, he asked if I was looking to make some easy money.”
“Do you have a parent around here anywhere?”
“Not here, no. I’m visiting my dad. Mom tossed me on a bus to visit him for the weekend. But dear old Dad is working late. So I was going to have to catch a cab from here.”
“What’s your name?” Mackenzie asked.
The girl looked suspiciously at her but gave her name anyway…or what she wanted them to think her name was. “Jen,” she said.
“Well, how about we call you that cab, Jen?” Mackenzie asked.
Jen looked at her like she was stupid. “That would be great. Thanks.”
Mackenzie pulled out her phone and started to dial when Jen stopped her.
“That guy…do you think he would have hurt me if you guys hadn’t showed up?”
“There’s no way to know for sure,” Mackenzie said.
“Well, thanks.”
Mackenzie nodded and placed the call to the cab company. When the phone started ringing in her ear, she looked back over to Bryers. She saw that he’d placed the suspect in handcuffs and had him pressed against the wall. Bryers, meanwhile, was on his phone to call it in.
And maybe, Mackenzie thought, to complain about my carelessness with a suspect.
And just like that, Mackenzie started to feel this amazing opportunity she had been handed slipping right out of her hands.
