Before he Sees. Blake Pierce
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probably including Bryers – had already done the legwork. Therefore, Mackenzie tried to focus on the obscure…on the things that might have been overlooked.
After about a minute of looking around the immediate area, Mackenzie thought she knew everything there was to know. And so far, it wasn’t much.
“So tell me,” Bryers said. “If you had to guess, what’s the significance of the killer dumping his bodies here?”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of convenience,” Mackenzie said. “I think he’s trying to play it safe. He’s discarding the bodies here because he wants to get rid of them. I’d also guess he lives nearby…no more than twenty or thirty miles. I don’t think he’d drive that far off just to dispose of a body…especially at night.”
“Why at night?” Bryers asked.
Mackenzie knew that he was testing her and didn’t mind. Given the amazing opportunity she had been handed, she expected some ribbing.
“Because he’d almost have to come during the night to dump a body. Doing it in the light of day while there are workers here would be stupid.”
“So you think he’s smart?”
“Not necessarily. He’s cautious and careful. And that’s not the same as smart.”
“I saw you scouring for tracks,” he said. “We tried and there was nothing. There are just too many.”
“Yeah, it would be difficult,” she said. “Of course, like I said, I’d assume the body was dumped after hours. Is that the assumption you’re going on?”
“It is.”
“So there would be no prints here,” Mackenzie pointed out.
He smiled at her. “That’s right,” he said. “No tire tracks anyway. But footprints would. Not that it matters. There are too many of those, too.”
Mackenzie nodded, feeling stupid for having missed such an obvious fact. But right away, that sent her mind down a different path.
“Well, it’s not like he carried the body over his shoulders,” Mackenzie said. “His tire tracks would be somewhere. Not here, but maybe just outside of the gate. We could then try to compare and contrast between tracks we find stopped outside the gate and tracks here in this dirt. We could even look right around the edge of the fence for any indication of impact from where he almost certainly threw or dropped the body over.”
“That’s good thinking,” Bryers said, clearly amused. “That’s a detail the guys from the print lab got, but I managed to overlook. But yes, you’re right. He would have had to stop his car outside of the gate. So the thinking is that if we find tracks that come to the gate, stop, then turn around, that could be our guy.”
“Could be,” Mackenzie said.
“So you’re thinking along the right lines, but there’s nothing new. What else you got?”
He wasn’t being rude or dismissive; she knew this from his tone alone. He was simply trying to urge her on, to motivate her to keep going.
“Do we know how many vehicles come through here on any given day?”
“Approximately eleven hundred or so,” Bryers said. “Still, if we can get prints that come close to the gate and then just stop…”
“It could be a start.”
“That’s the hope,” Bryers said. “We’ve had a team working on that since yesterday afternoon and we still don’t have any leads.”
“I can take a look if you’d like,” Mackenzie said.
“Knock yourself out,” Bryers said. “But you’re working with the Bureau now, Ms. White. Don’t overwork yourself if there’s another department that can handle it better than you can.”
Mackenzie looked back into the dumpster, trying to make sense of the crushed shapes of trash inside. A young woman had been there recently, her body nude and slightly beaten. She’d been discarded in the same place people dumped their refuse, the things they no longer needed. Maybe the killer was trying to speculate that the women he had killed were no better than common household trash.
She almost wished she had been here when Bryers and his soon-to-be-retired friend had come out. Maybe then she’d have more to go on. Maybe then she could help lead Bryers closer to a suspect. But for now, at least she had proven herself rather quickly with her perceptions regarding the tire tracks.
She turned back around to him and saw that he was standing idly, peering back toward the gate. It was clear that he was giving her some time to process. She appreciated it, but again, it made her very aware just how much of a rookie she was.
She ventured down to the chain-link fence that surrounded the dump. She started at the gate where vehicles came through and worked her way to the left. She looked around the bottom edge of the fence for a few seconds before another thought hit her.
He’d have to climb the fence, she thought.
She then started investigating the fence. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Maybe stray dirt or fibers on the chain links. Anything she found would be a long shot, but it would be something.
It took less than two minutes before she came across something of interest. It was so infinitesimal that she almost ignored it completely. But as she stepped closer, she saw that it might be more helpful than she had originally thought.
About five feet off the ground and six feet to the left of the entry gate, a single strand of white fabric clung to one of the diamond shapes in the fence. The fabric itself might not yield any results but this at least gave them a great place to start dusting for fingerprints.
“Agent Bryers?” she said.
He came over slowly, as if he wasn’t expecting much. As he got closer, she heard him make a hmmm sound as he looked at the piece of fabric.
“Great work, Ms. White,” he said.
“Please, just Mackenzie,” she said. “Mac, if you’re feeling adventurous.”
“What do you think it is?” he asked.
“Maybe nothing. Buy maybe a strand of clothing from someone that recently scaled the fence. The fabric may be useless, but it gives us a concentrated area to focus on for fingerprints.”
“There’s a small evidence kit in the trunk of the car. Can you retrieve it while I call this in?”
“Sure,” she said, heading back to the car.
By the time she returned to him, he was already ending the call. Everything with Bryers seemed to be quick and efficient. It was one of the things she was quickly starting to like about him.
“Okay, Mac,” he said. “Now let’s continue down the trail you spelled out earlier today. The victim’s husband lives about twenty minutes away from here. You up for it?”
“I am,” Mackenzie said.
They got back into the car and pulled out of the still-closed-down landfill. Overhead, a series of scavenger birds performed their duty diligently, watching the drama unfold below with uncaring eyes.
Caleb Kellerman already had visitors in the form of two policemen when Mackenzie and Bryers arrived at his home. He lived just outside of Georgetown in a two-story house that made for a cute starter home. Thinking that the Kellermans had only been married for a little over a year before his bride had been killed made Mackenzie feel sorry for the man, but also angry about what had happened.
A starter home that never got a chance to see what else it could be, Mackenzie thought as they stepped into the house. How profoundly sad.
They entered through the front door, stepping into a thin foyer that looked directly into the living room. Mackenzie could feel the creeping sense of loneliness and quiet that accompanied most residences shortly after a death. She hoped she’d eventually get used to it, but found it hard to believe.
Bryers