Before he Kills (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1) by Blake Pierce Page B

new?”
    “No, I’m afraid not. In fact, I got word
tonight that we won’t have the results on that wood until morning.”
    “Well, at least we know how the day will
start,” she said.
    “Exactly. But listen, I was wondering if
you could meet me for breakfast,” he said. “I’d like to go over the case
details with you. I want to make sure we’re on the same page and not missing
even the smallest detail.”
    “Sure,” she said. “What time do you—”
    She stopped here, looking toward her
bedroom door.
    For a split second, she’d heard
something move out there. Once again, she’d heard that damned floorboard creak.
But more than that, she’d heard a shuffling sound. Slowly, she got out of bed,
still holding the phone to her ear.
    “White, you still there?” Ellington
asked.
    “Yes, I’m here,” she said. “Sorry. I was
asking what time you’d want to meet.”
    “How about seven o’clock at Carol’s
Diner? You know it?”
    “I do,” she said, walking to the
doorway. She looked out and saw only shadows and dark, muted outlines. “And
seven sounds good.”
    “Great,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”
    She barely heard him as she stepped out
of her bedroom and into the small hallway that led to the kitchen. Still, she
managed to get out a “Sounds good,” before hanging up.
    She cut on the hallway light, revealing
the kitchen and making the living room look murky. Just like several nights
ago, there was no one there. But, just to make sure, she walked into the living
room and cut on the light.
    Of course, there was no one there. The
room offered no places to hide and the only thing unchanged about it was the
missing Xbox that Zack had taken with him. Mackenzie looked around the room one
more time, not liking the fact that she had spooked so easily. She even walked
across the creaky board, testing its noise and comparing it to what she had
heard.
    She checked the lock on the front door
and then headed back to her bedroom. She looked back behind her one more time
before cutting out the lights and returning to sleep. Before she turned her
lamp off, she took her service pistol out of the bedside drawer and placed it
on top, within arm’s reach.
    She looked at it in the gloom of the
bedroom, knowing that she’d not need it but feeling safer that it was right
there, in plain sight.
    What was happening to her?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
    “Daddy? Daddy, it’s me. Wake up.”
    Mackenzie stepped into the bedroom and
braced herself, turning from the sight of her dead father.
    “What happened, Daddy?”
    Her sister was in the room, too,
standing on the other side of the bed, looking at their father with a
disappointed look on her face.
    “Steph, what happened?” Mackenzie asked.
    “He called out for you and you didn’t
come. This is your fault.”
    “No!”
    Mackenzie stepped forward again and
then, knowing it was lunacy to do so, she still crawled onto the bed and
snuggled up next to her father. Soon, she knew, his flesh would be cold and
pale.
    Mackenzie woke with a start, the
nightmare jarring her awake at 3:12 AM, matted in sweat. She sat there,
breathing hard, and despite herself, she started to cry.
    She missed her dad so much that it hurt.
    She sat there, alone, crying herself to
sleep.
    But it would be hours, she knew, before
she fell back asleep. If at all.
    In a strange way, she yearned to throw
herself back into the case. Somehow, that was less painful.
     
    *
     
    When Mackenzie arrived at Carol’s Diner
a few hours later, she was awake and alert. Looking across a small diner table
at Agent Ellington, the idea of how much her nightmare had affected her, of how
easily she had gotten spooked last night, was embarrassing. What in the hell
was wrong with her?
    She knew what it was. The case was
getting to her, stirring up old memories she thought she had laid to rest. It
was affecting the way she lived. She’d heard of this happening to others before
but had never experienced it herself