Before He Preys - Блейк Пирс 6 стр.

CHAPTER NINE

Mackenzie did not have cell phone reception until she was back off of the gravel road so she wasnt able to call McGrath with an update for another ten minutes. His secretary said he was out of the office and he did not answer his cell phone. She decided not to leave a message and, instead, called up Sheriff Tate.

Tate didnt answer either but as his voicemail kicked on, she remembered him telling her how his outdated phone had been misbehaving. She hung up, frustrated, but before she had time to get angry, Tate called her directly back.

Told ya, he said. This damned phone. Anyway, what can I do for you, Agent White? he asked.

How quickly can you meet me at the station with a few of your best men?

Im at the station right now. And if its concerning Kenny Skinner, then the only other person that knows is my deputy, like I told you last night. I can have him back here in about twenty minutes. Why? Whats up?

Just some things I want to fill you in on.

You find something? he asked, instantly curious. He also sounded a bit excited and Mackenzie wasnt sure how to take that.

Id really rather wait until I can meet you there. By the waydo you have any way for me to dial in to DC?

Just a standard old touchtone phone. We can conference someone in if we need to.

She felt a little spoiled when she found this disappointing. Regardless, she thanked him and ended the call.

She was five minutes away from the Kingsville PD when McGrath called her back. After she went over the details of what she had found, he went silent for a moment. Finally, just as she was about to pull into the stations lot, he spoke.

Youre certain of this? he asked.

Im certain enough to say that it strongly warrants an investigation.

Thats good enough for me. Find some way to bring me into this meeting youre about to have. I want to stay close on this one.

Will do. Give me a few minutes.

She parked and went into the station. Sheriff Tate was sitting behind the little bullpen area, waiting for her. When she came into the lobby, he walked quickly to meet her right away. As he escorted her to the back of the small building, he spoke to her under his breath.

I did manage to get one of my guys to figure out a way to hook you up with a video call sort of thing on one of our laptops. Im sure its not as high tech as what youre used to in DC, but its all we got out here.

Its okay. That should be fine.

Tate led her into a conference room where a rather old MacBook was sitting on a small wooden table. Another man sat at the end of the table, giving her a wave as she came in. He then stood up and offered his hand.

Deputy Andrews, he said. Nice to meet you, Agent White. He was a short and stout man, a little on the heavy side, with the sort of gritty southern charm that could be either charming or off-putting. Mackenzie couldnt decide where Andrews fell just yet.

So, this is the best we could do, Tate said, turning the MacBook in her direction. My guy just made sure FaceTime was operable on it. Thats high-tech shit for Kingsville.

She pulled McGraths number from her contact list and typed it in. When she placed the call, it took a few moments before it connected. When McGraths face came on the screen, Tate and Andrews crowded in behind Mackenzie.

A quick round of introductions were made nothing more than a formality really, as she was sure McGrath couldnt care less about Kingsvilles finest.

For the sake of all being on the same page, Mackenzie said, Im going to go over everything one more time. There were very minor abrasions on Malory Thomass left palm. There was also a very faint indention of sorts, as if she had been clutching on to something moments before her death. After visiting the Miller Moon Bridge this morning, I was able to determine that the indentation was the exact shape of the end caps placed on the bolts along the struts on the edge of the bridge.

Additionally, there was a piece of wood found in her hair which the coroner found off because it was the only piece. It just so happens that the scrap of wood in her hair is the exact same as the wooden planks along and underneath the bridge, right down to the tone and texture. Put all of this together with the fact that she was nude and her clothes were discovered on the bridge, it makes me think she did not jump. It seems more like she was dangling on the edge of the bridge. Pretty tightly, I might add, based on that indentation. And if she was going to kill herself, why would she struggle to hold on to the edge?

Makes sense to me, Tate said.

Yes, it does, McGrath said. But that then leads us to more questions. Was it just Malory Thomas who might have been murdered? Can we also lump Kenny Skinner in with her? And if so, why not everyone else who has jumped from that bridge?

I spoke with Dr. Jan Haggerty, a psychiatrist here in town. She says that based on what she knew of Kenny Skinner, there was no way he committed suicide. His mother strongly agrees. And if you look at the dates of the suicides, its been almost two years since a body was found on the rocks beneath the bridge. Now, two years later, we have two within the span of four days. I think its a safe assumption to say that Kenny Skinners death might be worth looking into as a murder as well. The timing makes it too concrete to be a coincidence.

Sheriff Tate, weve discussed the importance of the Skinner kid already, McGrath said. I ask that in the coming days you please consider giving Agent White any assistance she needs. And please let her have full run of this case. Shes among my best agents and I trust her completely. Can you do that for me?

Absolutely. Just let us know how we can help.

Agent White, do you have any leads to pursue at this point?

Nothing solid, she said. But I imagine it wouldnt be too hard to find some people to speak with in regards to the lives of the victims. Im continuously being told how this is one of those towns where everybody knows everybody. Speaking to Kenny Skinners mother gave me a few ideas.

Good. Get to it, and keep me posted. Sheriff Tate, thanks again for your cooperation.

No pro

But McGrath had hung up, the screen glitching for a moment and then the call coming to an end.

Dont take it personally, Mackenzie said. He does that to me all the time.

With a shrug, Tate asked, So what do you need from us?

Mackenzie thought for a moment, trying to determine the best course of action. Can you get me the police records for any of the people who have committed suicide from the bridge in the last five years or so?

I can get that for you, Miller said. But I dont think there will be too much to look at.

Thats fine, just

Her phone rang, interrupting her. She answered it and heard Pam Skinners somber voice on the other end.

Blake Pierce

Before He Preys

Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes twelve books (and counting). Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising eight books (and counting); of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; and of the new KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books.

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2018 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Joe Prachatree, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

PROLOGUE

Once, when she was a girl, Malory Thomas had come to this bridge with a boy. It was Halloween night and she was fourteen. Theyd been looking down into the water one hundred and seventy-five feet below, looking for the ghosts of those who had committed suicide from the bridge. It was a ghost story that had circulated through their school, a story Malory had heard all her life. She let that boy kiss her that night but had pushed his hand away when it went up her shirt.

Now, thirteen years later, she thought of that innocent little gesture as she hung from that same bridge. It was called the Miller Moon Bridge and it was known for two things: being an awesome and secluded make-out spot for teens, and the number one suicide location in all of the county maybe in the entire state of Virginia for all she knew.

In that moment, Malory Thomas did not care about the suicides, though. All she could think about was holding on to the edge of the bridge for dear life. She was clinging to the side with both hands, her fingers curled against the rugged wooden edge of it. Her right hand could not get a good grip because of the enormous bolt that went through the wood, affixing the strut along the side to the iron beams beneath it.

She tried to move her right hand to get a better grip but her hand was too sweaty. Moving it even an inch made her fear that shed lose her grip completely and go falling all the way down to the water. And there wasnt much water there. All that awaited her below were jagged rocks and countless coins stupid kids had tossed off the side of the bridge to make pointless wishes.

She looked up to the rails along the edge of the bridge, old rusted trestle rails that looked ancient in the darkness of the midnight hour. She saw the shape of the man who had brought her here a far cry from that brave teenage boy from thirteen years ago. Nothis man was hateful and dark. She did not know him well but knew enough to now know for sure that something was wrong with him. He was sick, not right in the head, not well.

Just let go, he told her. His voice was creepy, somewhere between Batman and a demon.

Please, Malory said. Pleasehelp.

She didnt even care that she was naked, her bare rear end dangling from the edge of the Miller Moon Bridge. He had stripped her down and she was afraid he would rape her. But he hadnt. Hed only stared at her, run a hand along a few places, and then forced her to the edge of the bridge. She thought longingly of her clothes scattered on the wooden beams behind him, and had a sick sort of certainty that she would never wear them again.

With that certainty, her right hand cramped up as it tried to get used to the shape of the bolt beneath it. She cried out and felt all of her weight slip over to her left hand her much weaker hand.

The man hunkered down, kneeling and looking at her. It was like he knew it was coming. Even before she knew the end was there, he knew it.

She could barely see his eyes in the darkness but she could see enough to tell that he was happy. Excited, maybe.

Its okay, he said in that odd voice.

And as if the muscles in her fingers were obeying him, her right hand gave up. Malory felt a tightness all the way down through her forearm as her left hand tried to hold up her one hundred and forty pounds.

And just like that, she was no longer clinging to the bridge. She was falling. Her stomach did a cartwheel and her eyes seemed to tremble in their sockets as they tried to make sense of how fast the bridge was moving away from her.

For a moment, the wind rushing past her felt almost pleasant. She tried her best to focus on that as she scrambled for some kind of a prayer to utter in her final moments.

She only managed a few words Our Father, who art and then Malory Thomas felt her life leave her body in a sharp and crushing blow as she slammed into the rocks below.

CHAPTER ONE

Mackenzie White had fallen into something of a routine. This did not sit particularly well with her because she was not the kind of woman who liked routine. If things stayed the same for too long, she felt they needed to be shaken up.