Before he Kills (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1) (10 page)

Mackenzie felt a little out of her
element in Ellington’s company and oddly enough, it was a feeling that was only
magnified as they sat side by side in a bar two hours later. She knew they both
looked tired and a little worn, making them fade into the rest of the patrons.
They were not the only ones dressed relatively nicely; people coming in off of
work were also dressed slightly above casual, pulling up to the bar in the
shirts and ties and pantsuits they had worn to work. Dim afternoon light
spilled in from the two windows along the other side of the bar but it was the
neon behind the bar and the reflection of the overheads from the shelved liquor
bottles behind the bar that set the mood.

“Any idea how Pope found out about the
scene so quickly?” Ellington asked her.

“None. There has to be a mole on the
force.”

“That’s what I figure,” Ellington said.
“And because of that, I don’t see how Nelson can be too hard on you. There’s no
way you could have even suspected that the movement in the woods was a
journalist. Especially not when Pope took off running like that.”

“Let’s hope so,” she said.

Mackenzie knew she’d gotten off easy.
Her superior had watched her take a chubby and defenseless online journalist to
the ground in a pretty harsh tackle. And while Pope had gotten nothing more
than a slight gash on his temple from falling on a root, and while he had been
trespassing on private property, it was still grounds for punishment. Still,
she’d gotten what basically equated to a slap on the wrist. She’d seen Nelson
dish out much worse for less. It made her wonder, though, just how much faith
he had in her. To let her go on her merry way while Ellis Pope was likely
making phone calls spoke volumes about his confidence in her.

Of course, he had also demanded that she
get the hell out of his sight and go somewhere to re-orient herself before she
assaulted the next poor bastard that just happened to get in her way. Sensing a
small window of escape before he could think better of his decision to keep her
actively on the case, she’d done exactly that.

As she was sipping as responsibly as
possible on a locally brewed stout from the tap, she tried to remember the last
time she had come to a bar as a means of escaping the world. She’d usually used
work for that—something that was much easier to admit to herself now that Zack
was out of the picture. But now that work had sent her away for a bit, it felt
surreal to be sitting at a bar.

It was stranger still to be sitting next
to an FBI agent she had only met yesterday. In the short span of time she’d
spent with Agent Ellington, she had figured out a few things about him. First,
he was an old-fashioned gentleman: he opened doors for her, always asked her
opinion before making a decision, referred to those older than him as ma’am and
sir, and he also seemed to be protective over her. When they had come into the
bar, two men had made very little effort to hide the fact that they were
checking her out. Noticing this, Ellington had stepped beside her, blocking her
from their view.

“You know why the men on your force are
so hateful toward you, right?” Ellington said.

“I assumed it was just the way they were
raised,” Mackenzie said. “If I’m not in an apron bringing them a sandwich or
beer, what good am I?”

He shrugged. “That could be some of it,
but no, I think it’s something else. I think it’s because you intimidate them.
More than that, I think they sort of fear you. They’re afraid you might make
them look stupid and inept.”

“How do you figure?”

He only smiled at her for a moment. And
although there was nothing overtly romantic about the smile, it was nice to be
looked at in such a way. She couldn’t remember the last time Zack had looked at
her like that—as something to be appreciated rather than used or tolerated.

“Well, let’s get the obvious out of the
way: you’re young and you’re female. You’re essentially the brand new computer
that’s coming into the office to take all of the jobs. You’re also a walking
encyclopedia for forensics and investigation from what I hear. Throw in the way
you chased down that poor journalist today, and it’s the complete package.
You’re the new breed and they’re the old dogs. That sort of thing.”

“So it’s a fear of progress?”

“Sure. I doubt they would ever see it
like that, but that’s what it boils down to.”

“I’m assuming this is a compliment?” she
asked.

“Of course it is. This is the third time
I’ve been paired with a highly motivated detective and you’re by far the most
accomplished and driven I’ve seen. I’m glad we got paired up.”

She only nodded because she wasn’t sure
how to handle his compliments and evaluations yet. On the job, he’d been very
professional and by the book—not only in his approach to the job, but also in
the way he had approached her. But now that he was being a little less
reserved, Mackenzie was having a hard time drawing the line between where
on-duty Ellington stopped and where off-duty Ellington began.

“Did you ever think about joining the
Bureau?” Ellington asked.

The question stunned her so badly that
she was unable to answer for a moment. Of course she had thought of it. She had
once dreamed of it as a child. But even as a determined twenty-two-year-old
with her sights on a career in law enforcement, the FBI had seemed like some
unattainable dream.

“You have, huh?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little. You looked embarrassed just
now. It makes me think that you
have
thought about it but never chased
it down.”

“It was a dream of sorts that I had for
a while,” she said.

It was embarrassing to admit it, but
there was something about the way that he was reading her that made her not
mind as much.

“You’ve got the skills,” Ellington said.

“Thanks,” she said. “But I think my
roots here are too thick. I feel like it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late, you know.”

He looked at her, professional and
intense.

“Would you like me to put in a word for
you and see if it lands on any interested ears?”

She was blown away by his offer. On the
one hand, she wanted to, more than anything; on the other, it brought up all
her old insecurities. Who was she to qualify to work for the FBI?

Slowly, she shook her head.

“Thank you,” she replied. “But no.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Not to talk too
badly about the men you work with, but you’re being misused.”

“What would I do at the FBI?” she asked.

“You’d make a stellar field agent,” he
said. “Hell, maybe a profiler, too.”

Mackenzie looked thoughtfully into her
beer, a bit taken aback. She had again been stunned to silence and now felt
that she had a lot to consider. What if she could make it as an agent? How
drastically would her life change? How rewarding would it be to work a job she
loved without the hindrances of men like Nelson and Porter to hold her back?

“You okay?” Ellington asked.

Still peering into the dark beer in
front of her, she sighed. She thought about Zack for a moment and could not
recall the last meaningful conversation they’d had. When was the last time he’d
built her up in the same way Ellington was right now? For that matter, when was
the last time
any
man had spoken so highly of her directly in front of
her?

“I’m fine,” she said. “I appreciate
everything you’re saying. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Good,” Ellington said softly, not
missing a beat. “But let me ask you: do you have a history of holding yourself
back?”

“I don’t think it’s my self,” she said.
“I think it’s just…I don’t know. My past, maybe?”

“Your dad’s death?”

She nodded.

“That’s some of it,” she said.

There’s also my string of failed
relationships
,
she thought, but didn’t think it was appropriate to say. And as she dwelled on
it, she suddenly wondered if the two were related—her dad’s death and her
relationships. Maybe the source of all of it was, after all, the death.

Would she ever recover from it? She
didn’t see how she could. No matter how many bad guys she put behind bars,
nothing ever seemed to help.

He nodded as if he understood perfectly.

“I understand,” he said.

Then, flashing him a smile so he’d know
she was joking, she asked: “Are you psychoanalyzing me, Agent Ellington?”

“No, I’m talking to you. I’m listening.
Nothing more.”

Mackenzie finished her beer and slid the
glass to the edge of the bar. The bartender grabbed it right away and filled it
again, placing it back in front of her.

“I know that’s why this case has me
shaken so badly,” she added. “A man is using women. Maybe it’s not for sex, but
he’s inflicting pain and shame on them as a way to express some deranged
point.”

“And this is the first case you’ve had
like this?”

“Yes. I mean, I’ve been to domestic
dispute calls where a husband roughed up his wife, and I’ve questioned two
women after they were raped. But nothing like this.”

She drank from her beer, realizing that
it was going down far too easily. She had never been a big drinker and this
beer—her third of the night—was pushing her to a line that she had tried to
avoid crossing ever since college.

“I don’t know if my hunches mean
anything to you,” Ellington said, “but this guy will be caught within a few
days. I’m pretty sure of it. He’s getting too cocky and one of these leads we
keep accumulating will eventually pay off. Plus, the fact that you’re heading
it all up is a big plus.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.
“About my performance, I mean? And why are you being so nice?”

He was filling her with confidence and,
at the same time, reinforcing a trait she possessed that she knew was one of
the worst things about her. She knew she tended to get defensive around men
that complimented her, mainly because it always meant they wanted one thing.
Looking at Ellington as he smiled her, she didn’t think it would be too bad if
he was looking for that one specific thing. In fact, she was starting to think
she might enjoy the hell out of it. Of course, he was going back tomorrow and
the chances were very good that she’d never see him again.

Maybe that’s exactly what I need
, she thought
.
One night. No emotion, no expectations, just the dark and this
too-good-to-be-true FBI agent that seems to know all the right things to say
and—

She shut the thought down because, quite
frankly, it was far too enticing. She then realized that Ellington had still
not answered her question:
Why are you being so nice?

He bit back his smile and finally
answered.

“Because,” he replied, “you deserve a
break. I got my position because a friend knew a friend who knew a deputy
chief. And I can guarantee you that half of the cavemen on your force can say
the same thing or something similar.”

She laughed, and the sound of it made
her realize that she was just about to tip over that line. As she tried to
recall the last time she had gotten drunk, she tipped back the rest of her beer
and slid the glass to the edge of the bar. When the bartender came for it, she
shook her head.

“Can you drive?” she asked. “I’m a bit
of a lightweight. Sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

When the bartender came over with their
tabs, Ellington quickly picked hers up before she could lay a hand on it.
Watching him do that, she decided that she was going to find out what one
emotionless night with a man straight out of a dream might be like. After all,
she now had her house and her bed all to herself. What could it hurt?

They walked outside to the car and she
noticed that Ellington was walking extremely close to her. He opened her car
door for her, furthering his charm in her eyes. When he closed the door and
walked around to the driver’s side, Mackenzie rested her head against the
headrest and took a deep breath. From an abandoned house with a dead woman on a
pole to here, on the verge of propositioning a man she had only met
yesterday—had this really all happened in the course of less than twelve hours?

“Your car is at the station, right?”
Ellington asked.

“It is,” she said. And then, her heart
beating, she hesitantly added, “But we pass my place on the way—we could just
stop there if you want.”

He gave her a perplexed look and the
corners of his mouth seemed to battle between a smile and a frown. It was clear
that he knew what she was suggesting; she didn’t doubt he’d had similar offers
before.

“Ah, Jesus,” he said, rubbing at his
head. “To further show you my strong will and character, this is the part where
I tell you I’m married.”

Mackenzie looked to his left hand—the
same hand she had glanced at several times in the bar just to make sure. There
was no ring there.