“Agents White and Ellington?” she asked.

  Mackenzie shook her hand first as introductions were made. The woman’s name was Mel Kellerman. She was fairly short and slightly overweight yet had the demeanor of a woman who had seen hard time and laughed in its face.

  As Kellerman led them out of the waiting area, she gave a brief rundown of the place.

  “I serve as Security Administrator,” she said. “As such, I can tell you that the man you’re here to see poses no threat. His name is Bryan Taylor. Fifty years old and a recovering heroin addict. He sometimes has conversations with people that aren’t there. His record is minor but he stays on our radar because this is the fourth small-time crime he’s committed in the last year. We think it’s just to get free room and board.”

  “And what was his latest crime?” Mackenzie asked.

  “He took a piss on the back tire of a city bus in broad daylight.”

  Ellington chuckled. “Was he drunk?”

  “Nope,” Kellerman said. “Just said he really needed to take a piss.”

  She led them down a small hall and then down an even smaller corridor. At the end, they came to a door which Kellerman opened for them. The room contained only a table and five chairs. A disheveled-looking man occupied one of the chairs while a man in a security uniform occupied another. The guard turned as they came in and got up from his seat right away.

  “Is Mr. Taylor giving you any problems?” Kellerman asked the guard.

  “No. He’s on a rant, though. The Russians and Trump again.”

  “Ah, one of my favorites,” Kellerman said. She turned to Mackenzie and Ellington. “I’ll be one room over if you need me. But I think you’ll be okay.”

  With that, Kellerman and the other guard exited the room, leaving them with Bryan Taylor.

  “Hello, Mr. Taylor,” Mackenzie said as she took a seat across the table from him. “Did they tell you why we were coming?”

  Taylor nodded his head sadly. “Yeah. You want to know about my brother—how he died.”

  “That’s right,” Mackenzie said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Taylor only shrugged. He was drumming his fingers on the table and looked back and forth between Mackenzie and Ellington.

  “Well, I’m Agent White and this is my partner, Agent Ellington,” Mackenzie said.

  “Yeah, I know. From the FBI.” He rolled his eyes when he said this.

  “Mr. Taylor…tell me…did your brother have any enemies? Any people that might have something against him?”

  Taylor barely even thought about it before answering. “Nope. Just our momma, and she’s been dead for seven years now.”

  “Were you close with your brother?”

  “We weren’t best friends or anything like that,” Taylor said. “But we got along well enough. He hung out with some shady fuckers, though. Illuminati types. I honestly wasn’t too surprised to hear he died. Those Illuminati creeps have something against the homeless. The famous, too. You know they killed Kennedy, right?”

  “I heard that,” Ellington said, barely able to contain his smirk.

  Mackenzie stepped on his foot under the table and did her best to forge on.

  “Have you had any other friends that were murdered recently?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. But I don’t really hang with the same crowd very often. On the streets, more friends just means more people to rip you off.”

  “Just one more question, Mr. Taylor,” Mackenzie said. “Have you ever heard of a business called Barker Antiques?”

  He didn’t think very long about this answer, either. “Nope. Can’t say that I have. Never stepped foot into an antiques shop. I don’t have cash to be dropping on old dusty relics. Crazy-ass rich people run places like that. Shop there, too.”

  Mackenzie nodded and let out a little sigh. “Well, thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr. Taylor. I do ask that if you think of anything else about your brother that might help us figure out who might have killed him, please let someone that works here know so they can get the information to us.”

  “Oh yeah, I will. You know…you might head out to Nevada. I bet there are some answers there.”

  “Nevada?” Mackenzie asked. “Why’s that?”

  “Area 51. Groom Lake. It’s not the Illuminati, but everyone knows those top secret government places have been nabbing homeless folks for ages. They run experiments and tests on them out there in the desert.”

  Mackenzie turned away before Taylor could see her hesitant grin. Based on what she knew about him, she knew he couldn’t help it—that he was a few bricks short of a load. Ellington, on the other hand, was not able to remain quite as professional.

  “Good tip, Mr. Taylor. We’ll certainly look into that.”

  As they reached the exit, Mackenzie nudged him and leaned in close enough to whisper. “That was borderline mean,” she said.

  “How do you figure? I was just trying to make him feel like he had legitimately contributed to the investigation.”

  “You’re going to hell,” she said, smiling.

  “Oh, I know. Down with all the Illuminati for sure.”

  ***

  As they headed back to their car, Mackenzie had already started to piece together their next step. It felt solid, yet at the same time, she could also understand why it was an avenue that had not been properly explored by the bureau yet.

  “You know, Taylor did make one good point,” Mackenzie said.

  “Yeah?” Ellington asked. “I must have missed it.”

  “He talked about how some of those homeless communities are pretty tight. I think the bureau has been so concerned with how the vagrants might be connected to one another that they failed to seriously consider how people like Jimmy Scotts and Gabriel Hambry might be connected to them.”

  They got into the car, Ellington opting to take the driver’s seat this time. “Ah, but that’s not true. Homeless shelters and soup kitchens were contacted to see if either man had any affiliation with those kinds of places.”

  “Exactly,” Mackenzie said. “It was assumed that they would have been connected to the vagrants in a way that had them over the vagrants. Maybe there’s something else there.”

  “Like what? You think Scotts and Hambry might have been homeless at one point?”

  “No idea. But let’s say they were. That gives enough of a connection and would tell us that this guy is, for some reason or another, going after vagrants only.”

  “It’s worth considering,” Ellington said. “But that leaves one very important question: why?”

  “Well, first, let’s make sure I’m not getting too far ahead of myself.”

  “How?”

  “From what I read in the reports, Gabriel Hambry has no next of kin. The only family he had left around are a set of grandparents that live in Maine. But Jimmy Scotts has a wife and two kids in Lincoln.”

  “And you want to head out that way?” Ellington asked.

  “Well, considering the place I want to go after that is over six hours away, yeah…I think we should start there.”

  “Six hours away? Where the hell do you want to go? The other side of the state?”

  “Yes, in fact. Morrill County. A little town called Belton.”

  “What’s there?”

  Having to suppress a little shiver, Mackenzie answered: “My past.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  They spent the drive to Lincoln going back and forth on possible theories. Why kill vagrants? Why wait so long to start killing again? Why Ben White, Mackenzie’s father? Were there others before Ben White who had simply not been discovered?

  There were far too many questions and basically zero answers. And while Mackenzie usually hated to speculate, it was sometimes the only tool to use when the real world offered you nothing. It seemed even more necessary now that she was back in Nebraska. It was a deceptively large state and without solid leads, speculation was all they had to go on.

  Well, there was one lead but it seemed to be a phantom: business cards with the name of a nonexistent business on it. Which did them no good.

  Mackenzie kept thinking about the business card as they made their way to Lincoln. It had to serve some purpose, even if it was nothing more than some elaborate riddle that the killer was asking them to unravel. She knew that there were a few people back in DC who had been consistently trying to crack such a code (if there was indeed one to be cracked) but they had come up with nothing so far.

  The business cards on each body so far only pointed to one teasing conclusion: the killer wanted them to know each murder was his work. He wanted the authorities to keep count, to know what he was responsible for. It spoke of a killer who took pride not only in what he was doing, but also in the fact that he was sending the FBI in circles trying to find him.

  This frustration was ripe in Mackenzie’s mind as Ellington parked their car in front of the Scotts residence. They lived in an upper-middle-class home in the kind of neighborhood where all of the houses were built to resemble one another. The lawns were trimmed perfectly, and even as they got out of the car and headed for the Scotts’s front door, Mackenzie spotted two dogs being walked by masters that were busy scrolling through their phones while they walked.

  Based on the case files, Mackenzie knew the basics about Jimmy Scotts’s wife, Kim. She worked from home as a technical writer for a software company and her kids were at school every day until 3:45. She had moved to Lincoln a month after Jimmy’s death, stating that everything about Morrill County was nothing more than a devastating reminder of the life she had once lived with her husband.

  It was 3:07 when Mackenzie knocked on the door. She’d love to be in and out without having to drag the kids through conversations and memories of their deceased father. According to the reports, the oldest of the two girls, a promising junior in high school, had taken the death especially hard.

  A strikingly pretty middle-aged woman answered the door. She looked confused at first but then, perhaps after she took in their attire, seemed to understand who was on her doorstep and why they were there.

  She frowned a bit before asking: “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Agent White, and this is Agent Ellington, with the FBI,” Mackenzie said. “I do apologize, but we were hoping you might be able to answer a few questions about your husband.”

  “Seriously?” Kim Scotts asked. “I’ve put this behind me. So have my daughters. I’d really rather not head back down that road if it can be helped. So thank you, but no.”

  She started to close the door on them but Mackenzie held out a hand. She stopped the door from closing, but not using much force.

  “I understand that you’ve done your best to put it all behind you,” she said. “Unfortunately, the killer has not. He’s killed at least five others since your husband was killed.” She nearly included the fact that there was a good chance that the killer had also killed her father nearly twenty years ago but decided to keep it to herself.

  Kim Scotts opened her door back up. Instead of inviting them inside, though, she came out onto the porch. Mackenzie had seen this approach before. Kim was choosing to keep any and all conversation about her dead husband outside of the four walls of her home.

  “So what do you think I can offer?” Kim asked. “I went through this at least three times after Jimmy died. I don’t have any new information.”

  “Well, the bureau does,” Mackenzie said. “For starters, after your husband and one other man, it appears that the killer took an interest in vagrants. He’s killed four that we know of so far. Do you know of any connections Jimmy might have had with the homeless community?”

  The question apparently baffled her. The expression on her face was one of confusion and annoyance. “No. The closest he would have come to being involved with the homeless was taking the clothes he had grown tired of to the Salvation Army. We do that twice a year to free up closet space.”

  “What about people he worked with? Do you know if any of them might have had connections with homeless people or maybe even just those in dire need?”

  “Doubtful. It was just him and two other guys that ran a small marketing company. Don’t get me wrong…Jimmy was always a compassionate guy but he—neither of us, for that matter, ever really got into community involvement.”

  Mackenzie searched and searched for her next question but it would not come to her. She was now fairly confident that Jimmy Scotts had been randomly targeted. No reason, no motive, just the unfortunate luck to have been seen and apparently followed by the killer. This also made her think that maybe the deaths of Gabriel Hambry, Dennis Parks, and her father were also random.

  Well, maybe not. There’s a connection between my dad and Dennis Parks. So if they aren’t random, why would the others be?

  “What about your daughters?” Ellington asked, picking up the thread. “Are they perhaps involved in some sort of community outreach projects at school or something?”

  “No,” Kim said. The look on her face made it clear that she did not like viewing her daughters in light of this killer at all.

  “You mentioned that your husband worked with a few friends at a marketing company. Do you know if they ever had any clients that might have been tied to some sort of community outreach?”

  “That I don’t know. If they did, it would have been a small project. Jimmy only ever talked about the big projects. But if you like, I have copies of all of their invoices. Somehow all of that came to me when he died. I can get them for you if you like.”

  “That would be helpful,” Mackenzie said.

  “One moment, please,” Kim said. She walked back inside, closing the door behind her and still not inviting them in.

  “Good call on the clients,” Ellington said. “You think anything will come of it?”

  She shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”

  “That could be a lot of digging,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah. But that will give us something to do on that six-hour drive out to Morrill County.”

  “Fun.”

  Kim came back out onto the porch with five large folders all stacked together and held in place with binders and a huge rubber band. “Honestly,” she said, “I’m glad to get rid of it. But if it’s not asking too much, could you let me know if you find anything? I might have tried putting his death behind me, but that doesn’t mean the mystery of it all doesn’t drive me nuts sometimes.”

  “Absolutely,” Mackenzie said. “Mrs. Scotts, thank you for your time and cooperation.”

  Kim gave them both a brief nod and stood there as they made their way back down the steps and toward the car. Mackenzie could feel the widow’s eyes on her, making sure no mention of her deceased husband made it inside her house. Kim did not relax her posture until both Mackenzie and Ellington were in the car.

  “Poor woman,” Ellington said. “You think she’s really moved on?”

  “Maybe. She says she’s moved on but she wasn’t about to let us into her house. She didn’t want mention of his death in there.”

  “But at the same time,” he said, hefting the folders she’d handed them, “she seemed pleased to be rid of these.”

  “Maybe she also wants to remove reminders of him from the house, too,” she said.

  They pulled away from the house, the car pointed in the direction of the interstate. They were both quiet, almost in a respectful silence of the grieving widow they had just spoken to.

  ***

  They were back at the field office just as the nine-to-five workers were packing up for the day. Mackenzie wondered what it was like to have a clock command your time rather than the pressing worries that came with the sordid cases she often found herself tasked with. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle it.

  She and Ellington met up with Penbrook in the same conference room they had visited that morning. It had been a long day, the early flight out of DC making it an early one, too. But knowing the next step in their process, Mackenzie found herself energized and ready to get moving again.

  They filled Penbrook in on their talk with Kim Scotts and took some time to read through the invoices she had given them. It was done quickly, almost as an obligatory sort of exercise.

  “What about here on the home front?” Ellington asked. “Any developments?”

  “None,” Penbrook said. “Quite honestly, I’d love to hear what you two have. I understand this case is close to you, Agent White. What’s our next step?”

  “I want to go out to Morrill County. It’s where my father and Jimmy Scotts were both killed. And since my father’s death seems to have been the first in this line, I think that’s the best place to start.”

  “Looking for what, exactly?” Penbrook asked.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “But don’t let that fool you,” Ellington told him. “She gets some of her best results when she goes in without a clue to what she’s looking for.”

  She cut him a sly smile and returned her attention back to Penbrook. “I grew up in a town called Belton. I’m going to start there. I’ll know the next step when it presents itself.”

  “If that’s what you want to do, I won’t try to dissuade you,” Penbrook said. “But Morrill County is what…like six hours away?”

  “I don’t mind the driving,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “Maybe soon. If I can get out of here by six, that’ll place me in Belton by midnight.”

  “Well, happy trails then,” Penbrook said. He seemed disappointed and a little pissed off. Mackenzie assumed this was because he had been under the impression that she and Ellington were going to be by his side until the case was wrapped.

  Making no real attempt to mask his feelings, Penbrook headed for the door. Barely looking over his shoulder at them, he gave a perfunctory wave. “Let us know if you need anything.”

  Once Penbrook had closed the door behind him, Mackenzie let out a sigh. “Wow,” she said. “He really didn’t take that very well, did he?”

 

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