Before He Takes. Блейк ПирсЧитать онлайн книгу.
before she was struck, she saw the shape and shine of what he had slipped over his fingers.
Brass knuckles.
She heard the sound of them striking her forehead, felt a flash of pain, and then a moment later her knees buckled, and she felt herself collapsing onto the hard road. The last thing she was aware of was the man reaching down for her almost caringly, his headlights shining in her eyes, before the world went black.
CHAPTER ONE
Mackenzie White stood beneath a black umbrella and watched the casket get lowered into the ground as the rain picked up to a steady downpour. The weeping of those in attendance was nearly drowned out by the raindrops on the cemetery grounds and the nearby tombstones.
She watched with a pang of sadness as her old partner spent his last moments among the world of the living.
The casket inched into the grave on the steel runners it had been sitting on during the service while those closest to Bryers stood by. Most of the procession had scattered after the pastor’s final words, but those closest to him remained.
Mackenzie stood to the side, two rows over. It occurred to her that although she and Bryers had put their lives in each other’s hands on several occasions, she really had not known him all that well. This was proven by the fact that she had no idea who the people that had stayed back to watch him lowered into the ground were. There was a man who looked to be in his thirties and two women, huddled together under the black tarp, having one last moment with him.
As Mackenzie turned away, she noticed an older woman standing another row back, holding her own umbrella. She was dressed in all black and looked quite pretty standing in the rain. Her hair was completely gray, pulled back in a bun, but she looked young somehow. Mackenzie gave her a nod as she headed past her.
“Did you know Jimmy?” the woman asked her all of a sudden.
Jimmy?
It took her a while to realize that the woman was talking about Bryers. Mackenzie had only ever heard his first name one or two times. He’d always just been Bryers to her.
Maybe we weren’t as close as I thought.
“I did,” Mackenzie said. “We worked together. How about you?”
“Ex-wife,” she said. With a shaky sigh, she added: “He was such a good man.”
Ex-wife? God, I really didn’t know him. But in the back of her head, she could recall a conversation during one of their long car rides where he had mentioned having been married in the past.
“Yes, he was,” Mackenzie said.
She wanted to tell the woman about the times Bryers had guided her in her career and even saved her life. But she figured there was a reason the woman had distanced herself rather than join the three huddled figures under the tarp.
“Were you close to him?” the ex asked.
I thought I was, Mackenzie said, looking back to the graveside with regret. Her answer was simpler, though. “Not very.”
She then turned away from the woman with a grieved smile and headed for her car. She thought about Bryers…his dry smile, the way he rarely laughed but when he did it was nearly explosive. She then thought of what work might be like now. Sure, it was selfish, but she couldn’t help but wonder how her working environment would be changed now that her partner and the man who had essentially taken her under his wing was dead. Would she get a new partner? Would her position change and have her sitting behind a desk or on some lousy beat with no real purpose?
God, stop thinking about yourself, she thought.
The rain continued to pelt down on the umbrella. It was so deafening that Mackenzie almost didn’t hear her phone ringing in her coat pocket.
She fumbled it out of her pocket as she unlocked her car door, stowed the umbrella away, and stepped inside out of the rain.
“This is White.”
“White, it’s McGrath. Are you at the graveside service?”
“Leaving just now,” she said.
“I truly am sorry about Bryers. He was a good man. A damned fine agent, too.”
“Yeah, he was,” Mackenzie said.
But when she peered back through the rain to the graveside, she felt like she hadn’t really known Bryers at all.
“I hate to interrupt, but I need you back here. Come by my office, would you?”
She felt her heart skip a beat. It sounded serious.
“What is it?” she asked.
He paused, as if debating whether to tell her, then finally said:
“A new case.”
When she arrived outside of McGrath’s office, Mackenzie saw Lee Harrison sitting in the waiting area. She remembered him as the agent who had been assigned as her temporary partner when Bryers had fallen ill. They had gotten to know one another over the last several weeks but had not really had the chance to work together yet. He seemed like an okay agent—maybe a little too cautious for Mackenzie’s tastes.
“He called you, too?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “It looks like we might get our first case together. I figured I’d wait for you before I knocked.”
Mackenzie wasn’t sure if he had done this out of respect for her or fear of McGrath. Either way, she thought it was a smart decision.
She knocked on the door and was greeted by a quick “Come in” from the other side. She waved Harrison on and they walked into the room together. McGrath was sitting behind his desk, typing something into his laptop. There were two folders sitting to his left, as if waiting to be claimed.
“Have a seat, Agents,” he said.
Mackenzie and Harrison each took one of the chairs in front of McGrath’s desk. Mackenzie saw that Harrison was sitting rigid and his eyes were wide…not quite with fear but certainly filled with a nervous excitement.
“We’ve got a case from rural Iowa,” he began. “Being that it’s where you grew up, I thought you’d be good for this one, White.”
She cleared her throat, embarrassed.
“I grew up in Nebraska, sir,” she corrected.
“All the same, isn’t it?” he said.
She shook her head; those who weren’t from the Midwest would just never get it.
Iowa, she thought. Sure, it wasn’t Nebraska, but it was close enough, and the mere idea of heading back out that way made her uneasy. She knew she had no reason to fear the place; after all, she had made it to Quantico and made something of herself. She had achieved her dream of landing a role in the FBI. So why did the idea of traveling back there for a case unnerve her so quickly?
Because everything bad in your life is back there, she thought. Your childhood, your old colleagues, the mysteries surrounding your father’s death…
“There has been a string of disappearances, all women,” McGrath went on. “And so far it seems that they are being taken right off the road on these lonely little stretches of highway. The latest one was taken last night. Her car was found on the side of the road with two busted tires. There was a ridiculous amount of glass on the road, making the local PD assume there was foul play.”
He slid one of the folders over to Mackenzie and she took a look. There were several photos of the car, especially the tires. She also saw that the stretch of road was indeed isolated, surrounded by tall trees on both sides. One of the pictures also showed the contents of the latest victim’s car. Inside there was a coat, a small toolbox bolted to the side, and a box of books.
“What’s with the books?” Mackenzie asked.
“The latest victim was an author. Delores Manning. Google tells me she just had her second book