Before he Kills (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1) Read Free Page B

was paying close attention.
    “The victim was bound to a wooden pole
with her hands tied behind her. The sight of her death was in a clearing in a
cornfield, a little less than a mile off the highway. Her back was covered in
what appeared to be lash marks, placed there by some sort of a whip. We noted
prints in the dirt that were the same shape and size of the lashes. While we
won’t know for absolutely certain until after the coroner’s report, we are
fairly certain this was not a sexual attack, even though the victim had been
stripped to her underwear and her clothes were nowhere to be found.”
    “Thanks, Porter,” Nelson said. “Speaking
of the coroner, I spoke with him on the phone about twenty minutes ago. He says
that while he won’t know for sure until an autopsy is conducted, the cause of
death is likely going to be blood loss or some sort trauma—likely to the head
or heart.”
    His eyes then went to Mackenzie and
there was very little interest in them when he asked: “Anything to add, White?”
    “The numbers,” she said.
    Nelson rolled his eyes in front of the
entire room. It was a clear sign of disrespect but she trudged past it,
determined to get it out to everyone present before she could be cut off.
    “I discovered what appeared to be two
numbers, separated by a slash, carved into the bottom of the pole.”
    “What were the numbers?” one of the
younger officers at the table asked.
    “Numbers and letters actually,” Mackenzie
said. “N 511 and J 202. I have a picture on my phone.”
    “Other pictures will be here shortly,
just as soon as Nancy gets them printed out,” Nelson said. He spoke quickly and
forcefully, letting the room know that the issue of these numbers was now
closed.
    Mackenzie listened to Nelson as he
droned on about the tasks that needed to be carried out to cover the
seven-and-a-half-mile area between Hailey Lizbrook’s home and the Runway. But
she was only half-listening, really. Her mind kept going back to the way the
woman’s body had been strung up. Something about the entire display of the body
had seemed almost familiar to her right away, and it still stuck with her as
she sat in the conference room.
    She went through the brief notes in the
folder, hoping some small detail might trigger something in her memory. She
leafed through the four pages of information, hoping to uncover something. She
already knew everything in the folder, but she scanned the details anyway.
    Thirty-four-year-old female, presumed
killed the previous night. Lashes, cuts, various abrasions on her back, tied to
an old wooden post. Cause of death assumed to be blood loss or possible trauma
to the heart. Method of binding suggests possible religious overtones while
woman’s body type hints at sexual motivations.
    As she read through it, something
clicked. She zoned out a bit, allowing her mind to go where it needed without
interference from her surroundings.
    As she put the dots together, coming up
with a connection she hoped she was wrong about, Nelson started to wind
down.
    “…and since it’s too late for roadblocks
to be effective, we’re going to have to rely mostly on witness testimony, even
down to the most minute and seemingly useless detail. Now, does anyone have
anything else to add?”
    “One thing, sir,” Mackenzie said.
    She could tell that Nelson was
containing a sigh. From the other end of the table, she heard Porter make a
soft sort of chuckling noise. She ignored it all and waited to see how Nelson
would address her.
    “Yes, White?” he asked.
    “I’m recalling a case in 1987 that was
similar to this. I’m pretty sure it was right outside of Roseland. The binding
was the same, the type of woman was the same. I’m fairly certain the method of
beating was the same.”
    “1987?” Nelson asked. “White, were you
even born yet?”
    This was met with soft laughter from
more than half of the room. Mackenzie let it slide right off. She’d find the
time to be embarrassed