“That makes things a bit harder.”
Mackenzie nodded and closed the lid of her laptop. She’d read about twenty-five articles on the Community and the information was all starting to repeat. She glanced over at Ellington and said, “There hasn’t been a single arrest or public disturbance related to the Community?”
“Not on the police database going back twenty years.”
“I wonder if Burke has any stories or even rumors we could go by.”
Before they could continue this conversation, her phone buzzed again. This time it was a short little burst—a text rather than a call. She picked it back up and instantly fumed when she saw it was from her mother.
Wasn’t sure what was too late for you, the text read. Can you call?
“E…I’m going to kill my mother.”
“If anyone asks, I did try to talk you out of it. But…when?”
She rolled her eyes at him, letting him know now was not the time to joke around about it. She almost decided to ignore the text; she had enough to worry about as it was. But she knew that if she didn’t respond, her mother would keep texting until Mackenzie finally caved. Plus, there was the off chance that she might have a legitimate question about Kevin’s needs.
She called her mother, pushing herself away from the table. Even that little amount of distance between work and home made her feel somewhat like a mother herself.
She was not surprised that Patricia White answered the phone right away. When she did, her voice was hushed. Mackenzie could imagine her holed up in Ellington’s study or the guest bedroom so Frances would not hear her.
“Thanks for calling,” Patricia said.
“Is Kevin okay?”
“Yes.”
“Is the apartment still in one piece?”
“Of…of course. Mackenzie—”
“Then what is it now, Mom?”
There was a quiet moment from the other end that was quickly broken by the sound of her mother’s hurt. “I don’t understand. We had such a great afternoon yesterday. We got along, had a great meal, and I felt like you and I sort of reconnected.”
“I did, too. But this is the second time you’ve called me while I’m trying to work. And I swear, if it’s for no other reason than to bitch about something Frances has done…”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? She’s undermining every single thing I say or do. And it’s bad enough that Kevin prefers her…”
“He prefers her because he’s familiar with her. And Mom, are you sure she’s undermining you or is she just giving you pointers and suggestions on how to please a kid she knows better than you?”
“Maybe this was a mistake.”
“What? Coming to finally meet your grandson?”
“Partly. But not just that. It’s just…”
Mackenzie did not feel bad for her mother…not at all. But she also knew that if her mother fell back into the bad decisions and dark places that had defined the last decade or so of her life, there may be no return. So she found herself at odds: did she tell her mother what she needed to hear, or did she pacify her?
As much as Mackenzie hated it, she figured she had to pacify.
“Mom, I’m going to ask you this as a favor. I need you to suck it up and stay there. Hang in there until we get back. And you know what? Don’t even do it for me. Do it for Kevin. You want to be familiar to him? Then stick around. Give him a reason to remember you.”
There was a nervous chuckle from the other end of the phone. “You’re right,” she said. “It was stupid of me to fly out here just to give up over something like this and go back to the hotel.”
“You said it, not me.”
“Sorry I bothered you.”
“It’s okay…just make sure you try not to call or text unless there’s something wrong.”
“I will. Goodnight, Mackenzie.”
They ended the call and Mackenzie swallowed down several emotions that all seemed to fight for control. There was anger, sadness, and pity. She could not decide on one, so she settled for calm indifference.
“One of them dead yet?” Ellington asked.
“No, not yet.” She looked to the table—to the laptops and the police reports—and got to her feet. “Want to get out of here?”
“Sure.”
They tidied up the space, bagged up their laptops, and headed for the lobby. On their way out, they were once again interrupted by the buzzing sound of a phone. This time it was Ellington’s. He answered as they passed through the front doors and into the parking lot. Mackenzie listened to his half of the conversation, not quite clear on who it was or what was being talked about.
He did not hang up until they were in the car, Mackenzie slipping behind the wheel since Ellington was occupied. When he ended the call, there was a perplexed look on his face as he pocketed his phone.
“I think I know why there was no record on Amy Campbell,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because according to everything the bureau threw at the background check, she doesn’t seem to exist. There are, of course, numerous Amy Campbells, but none fitting my description. None at all. Just like our mystery lady, Marjorie Hikkum, Amy Campbell doesn’t seem to exist.”
CHAPTER TEN
Bethany was driving exactly the speed limit. She’d been doing it for weeks now, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to herself. The police presence in Fellsburg after midnight was pretty much nil, but she didn’t see the point in taking any chances. Now, of course, there was more than just the police to worry about. After what happened to Marjorie Hikkum, she couldn’t be too careful.
To say she was on high alert was an understatement. She had a little canister of Mace hidden under her driver’s seat. Driving through the night, down the same two-lane stretch of road she was pretty sure Marjorie had gone running down four nights before, was eerie. The overactive part of her mind was fully expecting to see Marjorie’s ghost standing on the side of the road, flagging her down.
She shook that nonsense way. After all, she had other things to worry about. Marjorie had been killed on their street. She had been coming to find her and Amy…she had no doubt about that. What if those who had come after her knew about her and Amy, too?
It was a horrifying speculation, but she could not let it deter her. The work they were doing was far too important. They’d known there would be danger when they decided to go this route. If they buckled under those fears now, Bethany wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to live with herself. She now had the dead body of Marjorie Hikkum as a reminder of what was at stake.
It was 2:15 in the morning, and she was about fifteen miles away from her home in Plainsview. She took a left, coming off of the two-lane and onto another, better-maintained, two-lane. Even before she could really start accelerating, she could see the ghostlike glow of the gas station through the trees. It stirred feelings of excitement and fear in her; her heart started booming in her chest and her grip on the steering wheel grew tighter. As she came to the turn to enter the parking lot, she realized that she was also holding her breath.
The station itself was closed, but the lights over the three gas pumps as well as the blaring BP sign at the corner of the lot provided more than enough to see the majority of the parking lot. She dimmed her lights and pulled in on the far right side, as far away from the green BP sign as she could get. On that end of the lot, the right side of the building could be seen. There were a few old tires piled up, a single junked car, and an old corroded filling tank the size of a small van.