CHAPTER ELEVEN
The phone was ringing, but it was an odd sound. It sounded muted somehow, far off. Mackenzie opened her eyes and it took her a while to understand why. She was not at home. She was not in her own bed and the phone was not right there, beside her bed like it was in her own bedroom. No, she and Ellington were in some small town in Utah and the phone was sitting on the other side of the room, plugged into one of the room’s only two outlets.
The similarity she felt from home was Ellington’s naked body next to hers. Their legs were haphazardly intertwined—something she didn’t care for but she knew he liked—and her arm was draped partially over his chest.
It took the third ring to truly pull her from her sleep. Ellington came with her and by the time he was sitting up, she was already at the small table that held the TV, the coffeemaker, and her phone.
“This is White,” she said, doing a poor job to hide the fact that she had been pulled from sleep. Her brain was still trying to make sense of the time she’d seen on her phone when she had answered it: 4:34.
“Agent White, it’s Sheriff Burke. We got two more bodies.”
“Two more?”
“Yeah.”
Hearing his wife say two more at four in the morning was all Ellington needed to hear. Even before getting confirmation from Mackenzie, he was out of bed and getting dressed.
“How recent?”
“Not sure. It couldn’t have happened more than an hour and a half ago. I’m out here at the intersection of State Road 14 and Highway 27.”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
She ended the call and followed Ellington’s example. They got dressed together, the sleep quickly sliding right off of them.
“Two?” Ellington said.
“Two,” she confirmed.
It was the last thing said between them before they left. Two new victims at once told them everything they needed to know: this killer was brave and did not mind making bold moves. And while it might seem like that was a recipe for a sloppy killer, they both knew it also made for the more dangerous and cunning ones as well.
***
They joined Burke and three other officers twenty-one minutes later. The intersection was blocked off on both sides by patrol cars and flares. The flares looked cartoonishly orange against the darkness of the night and the black of the pavement. The rotating bubble lights from the patrol cars and the flickering of the flares revealed a car that had crashed into the tree line on the right side of Highway 27, directly across from an intersection.
Mackenzie felt a fluttering disappointment. Surely Burke would not have called them in to assist with two victims of a car accident, would he?
As they made their way over to the car, where Burke and one of the other three officers were standing, Mackenzie noted the state of the rear of the car. The bumper was dented and partially hanging off. The area where the trunk could be popped open had also been badly dented, the black paint chipped and cracked. The paint had clearly been struck by something lately.
Burke looked up gravely at them. “Looks like it was hit from behind, doesn’t it?” he said.
“I’d agree with that,” she said. “I wonder how long ago it happened.”
“Well, this one is still bleeding,” he said, nodding to the ground.
Mackenzie looked behind him and saw a young woman who had obviously been struck in the head several times. There was also a harsh slash mark high across her chest, just below the neck. Her eyes stared up to the night sky.
And, just like the identity-less Marjorie Hikkum, there was a strip of black tape over her mouth.
As Mackenzie and Ellington stared down at the body, lying just outside of the trees, she could hear the approaching wail of sirens. She knew these were not the sounds of a police car, but likely an ambulance. No need for that, she thought.
“Anything on the body?” Mackenzie asked.
“Haven’t looked yet,” Burke said. “Thought you might want that honor.”
Mackenzie wasted no time in taking the duty. It was quick work, though. There was nothing in the woman’s pockets other than eighteen dollars in cash. She looked the woman over a bit more before walking to the other side of the car. The other body was partially fallen against the car. Her throat had been slit hard and deep. And, no surprise, there was also a strip of black tape over her mouth.
A search of this woman’s pockets turned up absolutely nothing. The clothes showed signs of being well-worn and in need of washing. The same could be said for her hair.
“Who discovered the scene?” Ellington asked as he opened up one of the wrecked car’s doors.
“A thirty-year-old local,” Burke said. “On his way to Salt Lake City. He had no idea how long ago the accident had occurred. He got out of his truck to help and then saw the bodies and called us.”
“Where is he now?” Mackenzie asked.
“Back at the station. He threw up twice, poor bastard. I told him to hang at the station because you two might want to talk to him.”
As he explained all of this, Mackenzie and Ellington looked the car over. The inside was mostly clean, with the exception of an empty Dr Pepper bottle on the back floorboard. They checked the center console and dashboard and came up with just a few items. There was an old scratched Bob Dylan CD without a case, some lip gloss, thirty more dollars in cash, and a license.
The license clearly belonged to the woman who had been driving the car—the one currently lying in front of the trees on the driver’s side. Her name was Bethany Hollister and she was twenty-two years old. Mackenzie scrutinized the license a bit harder and for just a moment, she felt goosebumps prickling her skin.
“Holy shit.”
“What is it?” Ellington asked.
“Not sure…”
She took the license out of the car and back to the body of the driver. She compared the two and it was undoubtedly the same woman. However, that was not what had Mackenzie feeling like someone had just walked over her grave. She now had two certainties blooming in her mind, neither a concrete fact but solid all the same.
First, she was pretty sure the license was a fake—no doubt created by their new friend Todd Thompson.
Second, she had seen this woman earlier in the day. She’d caught the briefest glimpse of her behind Amy Campbell as she passed inconspicuously down the hallway.
“I saw her,” Mackenzie said. “Earlier today, I saw her.”
“Where?”
“In the house where Amy Campbell lived. The same house where I saw a red sedan.”
“That is interesting,” Ellington said. He quickly caught on to her enthusiasm and excitement. As they walked away from the car, the ambulance arrived, pulling in beside one of the cars that was blocking off the intersection.
“Got something?” Burke called out to them as they headed back for their car.
“Possibly,” Mackenzie said. “I know it’s early as hell, but we’re about to pay someone a visit.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mackenzie had only knocked on a few doors at such an early hour during her few years with the bureau and it was still a difficult thing to do. When you came knocking at 6:40, you were pretty much letting the people on the other side know that there was some form of bad news waiting for them outside.