Before He Needs

She looked through the check register for anything that might give her some sort of clues but nothing jumped out at her. She did, however, see a few abbreviations that she did not recognize. Most of the transactions for these entries were for amounts of around sixty to two hundred dollars. One of the entries she did not recognize had been written out for two thousand dollars.

While nothing in the register seemed immediately curious, she remained hung up on the abbreviations and initials that she was not familiar with. She snapped a few pictures of those entries with her phone and then returned the checkbook.

“You have an idea or something?” Harrison asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “Could you please get Dagney on the phone and ask her to task someone with pulling up the Sterlings’ financial records over the last year? Checking accounts, credit cards, even PayPal if they used it.”

“Absolutely,” Harrison said. He instantly pulled out his phone to complete the task.

I might not mind working with him so much after all, Mackenzie thought.

She listened to him speaking with Dagney while she closed the roll-top desk and looked back toward the stairs.

Someone walked up those stairs four nights ago and killed a married couple, she thought, trying to envision it. But why? And again, why were there no signs of forced entry?

The answer was simple: Just like with the Kurtzes, the killer was invited in. And that means that they either knew who the killer was and let him in or the killer was playing a certain part…acting like someone they knew or someone in need.

The theory felt flimsy but she knew there was something to it. If nothing else, it created a fragile link between the two couples.

And for now, that was enough of a connection to go on.

CHAPTER SIX

While she had been hoping to avoid speaking to the families of the recently deceased, Mackenzie found herself working her way down her to-do list faster than she had expected. After leaving the Sterlings’ house behind, the next natural place to go for any answers was to the closest relatives of the families. In the case of the Sterlings, their closest family was a sister that lived less than ten miles from the Kurtzes’ townhouse. The rest of the family lived in Alabama.

The Kurtzes, however, had plenty of family nearby. Josh Kurtz had not moved very far away from home, living within twenty miles of not only his parents, but his sister as well. And since the Miami PD had already spoken extensively with the Kurtzes earlier in the day, Mackenzie opted to check in with the sister of Julie Kurtz.

Sara Lewis seemed more than happy to meet with them, and although the news of her sister’s death was less than two days old, she seemed to have accepted it as well as a twenty-two-year-old could.

Sara invited them into her house in Overtown, a quaint one-story house that was little more than a small apartment. It was decorated sparsely and held the sort of edgy silence that Mackenzie had felt in so many other houses where someone was dealing with recent loss. Sara sat on the edge of her couch, cupping a mug of tea in her hands. It was clear that she had done her fair share of crying recently; she also looked like she hadn’t slept much.

“I assume that if the FBI is involved,” she said, “that means there have been more murders?”

“Yes, there have,” Harrison said from beside Mackenzie. She frowned briefly, wishing he had not so willingly divulged the information.

“But,” Mackenzie said, interjecting before Harrison could continue, “we of course can’t make any solid claims about a connection without a thorough investigation. And that’s why we’ve been called in.”

“I’ll help however I can,” Sara Lewis said. “But I already answered the police’s questions.”

“Yes, I understand, and I appreciate that,” Mackenzie said. “I just want to cover a few things they might have missed. For instance, do you by any chance have any idea how your sister and brother-in-law were in terms of financial standing?”

It was clear that Sara thought it was a strange question but she did her best to answer nonetheless. “Okay, I suppose. Josh had a good job and they really didn’t spend too much money. Julie would even scold me sometimes for spending too frivolously. I mean, they certainly weren’t loaded…not from what I know. But they did okay.”

“Now, their neighbor told us that Julie liked to draw. Was this just a hobby or was she making any money off of it?”

“More of a hobby,” Julie said. “She was pretty good, but she knew it wasn’t anything spectacular, you know?”

“How about ex-boyfriends? Or maybe ex-girlfriends Josh might have had?”

“Julie has a few exes, but none of them took it hard. Besides that, they all live halfway across the country. I know for a fact that two of them are married. As for Josh, I don’t think there were any exes in the picture. I mean…hell, I don’t know. They were just a really good couple. Really good together – disgustingly cute in public. That sort of couple.”

The visit felt too brief to end but Mackenzie had only one other route to pursue and she wasn’t quite sure how to refer to it without repeating herself. She thought back to those odd entries in the Sterlings’ checkbook, still unable to figure them out.

Probably nothing, she thought. People keep their checkbooks differently, that’s all. Still, worth looking into.

Thinking of the abbreviations she had seen in the Sterlings’ checkbook, Mackenzie continued on. As she opened her mouth to speak, she heard Harrison’s phone vibrating in his pocket. He quickly checked it and then ignored the call. “Sorry,” he said.

Ignoring the disturbance, Mackenzie asked: “Would you happen to know if Julie or Josh were involved with any sort of organizations or maybe even clubs or gyms? The sort of place they’d routinely pay fees to?”

Julie thought about this for a moment but shook her head. “Not that I know of. Like I said…they didn’t really spend a lot of money. The only monthly fee I know of that Julie had outside of bills was her Spotify account, and that’s only ten bucks.”

“And have you been contacted by anyone like an attorney about what happens with their finances?” Mackenzie asked. “I’m very sorry to ask, but it could be pressing.”

“No, not yet,” she said. “They were so young, I don’t even know if they had drawn up a will. Shit…I guess I have all of that to look forward to, don’t I?”

Mackenzie got to her feet, unable to answer the question. “Thanks again for speaking with us, Sara. Please, if you think of anything else in regards to the questions I’ve asked you, I’d appreciate a call.”

With that, she handed Sara a business card. Sara took it and pocketed it as she led them to the door. She wasn’t being rude but it was clear that she wanted them to leave as quickly as possible.

With the door closed behind them, Mackenzie found herself standing on Sara’s porch with Harrison. She considered correcting him on so quickly letting Sara know that there had been more murders that could be related to the murder of her sister. But it had been an honest mistake, one that she had made once or twice when she had started off. So she let it go.

“Can I ask you something?” Harrison asked.

“Sure,” Mackenzie said.

“Why were you so fixated on their finances? Did it have something to do with what you saw in the Sterlings’ place?”

“Yeah. It’s just a hunch for now, but some of the transactions were – ”

Harrison’s phone started vibrating again. He scooped it out of his pocket with an embarrassed look on his face. He checked the display, nearly ignored it, but then kept it out as they walked back toward the car.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he said. “It’s my sister. She called while we were inside, too. Which is weird.”

Mackenzie didn’t pay him much attention as they got into the car. She was barely even listening to Harrison’s end of the conversation as he started speaking. However, by the time she had pulled back out onto the street, she could tell by his tone that something was very wrong.

When he ended the call, there was a shocked expression on his face. His bottom lip had a sort of curl to it, somewhere between a grimace and a frown.

“Harrison?”

“My mom died this morning,” he said.

“Oh my God,” Mackenzie said.

“Heart attack…just like that. She’s – ”

Mackenzie could tell that he was struggling not to break down in tears. He turned his head away from her, looking out of the passenger side window, and started to let it out.

“I’m so sorry, Harrison,” she said. “Let’s get you back home. I’ll set up the flight now. Anything else you need?”

He only gave a brief shake of the head, still looking away from her as he wept a bit more openly.

Mackenzie first made a call to Quantico. She was unable to get McGrath on the phone so she left a message with his receptionist, letting her know what had happened and that Harrison would be on a flight back into DC as soon as possible. She then called the airline and grabbed the first available flight, which departed in three and a half hours.

The moment the flight was booked and she ended the call, her phone rang. Giving Harrison a sympathetic look, she answered it. It felt terrible to resort back to a work mentality after Harrison’s news but she had a job to do – and there were still no solid leads.

“This is Agent White,” she said.

“Agent White, this is Officer Dagney. I thought you might want to know that we have a potential lead.”

“Potential?” she asked.

“Well, he certainly fits the profile. This is a guy that was booked on multiple home invasions, two of which included violence and sexual assault.”

“In the same areas as the Kurtzes and Sterlings?”

“That’s where it gets promising,” Dagney said. “One of the instances that involved sexual assault happened in the same group of townhouses the Kurtzes lived in.”

“Do we have an address for the guy?”

“Yeah. He works at an auto garage. A small one. And we’ve got confirmation that he’s there right now. Name of Mike Nell.”

“Send me the address and I’ll go have a talk with him. And any word on the financial records Harrison requested?” Mackenzie asked.

“Not yet. We’ve got some guys working on it, though. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Mackenzie killed the call and did her best to give Harrison his moment of grief. He was no longer weeping, but was clearly having to make an effort to keep it together.

“Thanks,” Harrison said, wiping a stray tear away from his face.

“For what?” Mackenzie asked.

He shrugged. “Calling McGrath and the airport. Sorry this is such a pain in the midst of the case.”

“It’s not,” she said. “Harrison, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

After that, the car fell into silence and whether she liked it or not, Mackenzie’s mind slipped back into work mode. There was a killer somewhere out there, apparently with some odd vengeance to enact upon happy couples. And he might be awaiting her this very second.

Mackenzie could barely wait to meet him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dropping Harrison off at the motel was bittersweet. She wished she could do more for him or, at the very least, offer some more comforting words. In the end, though, she only gave him a half-hearted wave as he went into his room to pack his things and call a cab to take him to the airport.

Once his door had closed behind him, Mackenzie pasted the address Dagney had sent her into her GPS. Lipton Auto Garage was exactly seventeen minutes from the motel, a distance she started to cover right away.

Being alone in the car felt strange but she again distracted herself with the Miami scenery. It was different from any other beach-oriented city she had ever been in. Where smaller towns situated by the beach seemed a little sandy and almost faded, everything in Miami seemed to shine and sparkle despite the nearby sand and salt spray from the ocean. Here and there she would see a building that seemed out of place, neglected and forlorn – a reminder that everything had its blemishes.

She arrived at the garage sooner than she expected, having been distracted by taking in the sights of the city. She parked in a lot that was overcrowded with broken down cars and trucks that were obviously being pillaged for spare parts. It looked like the sort of operation that was forever in a state of almost going bankrupt.

Before walking into the place, she did a quick once-over of the place. There was a run-down front office that was currently unattended. The attached garage held three bays, only one of which contained a car; it was up on risers but did not look to be having any work done on it. In the garage, one man was rummaging through a shelf-shaped toolbox. Another was in the very back of the garage, standing on a small ladder and rifling through a series of old cardboard boxes.

Mackenzie walked over to the man closest to her, the one looking through the toolbox. He looked to be nearing forty, with long greasy hair that hung down to his shoulders. The stubble on his face was not quite a beard. When he looked up at her as she approached, he smiled brightly.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said with a bit of a Southern accent. “What can I help you with today?”

Mackenzie flashed her badge. “You can stop calling me darling first of all. Then you can tell me if you happen to be Mike Nell.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said. He was staring at her ID with something like fear. He then looked back at her face, as if trying to decide if he was part of some prank.

“Mr. Nell, I’d like for you to – ”

He wheeled around quickly and shoved her. Hard. She stumbled backward and her feet struck a tire that was lying on the ground. As she lost her footing and went falling to her backside, she caught a glimpse of Nell running away. He was leaving the garage, running and looking over his shoulder.

That escalated quickly, she thought. He’d sure as hell guilty of something.

Her instincts wanted to go for her gun. But that would cause a scene. So she got up and gave chase. Yet, as she pushed herself up, her hand fell on something else that had been left on the floor. It was a lug wrench – possibly the one that had taken off the tire she had fallen over.

She picked it up and quickly got to her feet. She dashed to the front of the garage and saw Nell at the sidewalk, about to cross the street. Mackenzie quickly looked both ways, saw that there were no cars within a few feet, and drew her arm back.

She launched the lug wrench through the air with as much force as she could. It sailed over the fifteen feet or so that separated her and Nell, striking him squarely in the back. He let out a yelp of surprise and pain before staggering forward and falling to his knees, nearly face planting on the side of the street.

She ran after him, driving a knee into his back before he could even think about trying to get back to his feet.

She pinned his arms behind him and pushed down. He tried squirming but then realized that trying to get away only caused more pain as his shoulders were stretched back. With a quickness that she had been practicing for months now, she pulled the set of handcuffs from her belt and slapped them around Nell’s wrist.

“That was stupid,” Mackenzie said. “I only wanted to ask some questions…and you gave me the answer I was looking for.”

Nell said nothing but he did finally accept that he could not get away from her. As cars passed by, the other man from the garage came rushing over.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

“Mr. Nell just attacked an FBI agent,” Mackenzie said. “I’m afraid he won’t be able to finish out the day for you.”

***

Mackenzie observed Mike Nell from behind the double-mirror of the observation room. He looked aggravated and embarrassed – a scowl that had remained on his face ever since Mackenzie had hauled him to his feet, handcuffed in front of his employer. He chewed nervously at his lip, an indication that he was probably itching for a cigarette or a drink.

Mackenzie looked away from him to study the file in her hands. It told the brief but troubled story of Mike Nell, a teenage runaway at the age of sixteen, busted for petty theft and aggravated assault for the first time at eighteen. The last twelve years of his life painted the portrait of a troubled loser – assault, theft, breaking and entering, a few stints in prison.

Beside Mackenzie, Dagney and Chief Rodriguez looked out at Nell with something like contempt.

“I take it you’ve seen a lot of him in the past?” Mackenzie asked.

“We have,” Rodriguez said. “And somehow, the courts keep just slapping him on the wrist and that’s it. The longest sentence he served was the one he just got paroled from, and that was for a sentence of one year. If it turns out this jackass is responsible for these murders, the courts are going to be tucking their tail between their legs.”

Mackenzie handed the report to Dagney and stepped toward the door. “Well then, let’s see what he has to say,” she said.

She exited the room and stood in the hallway for a moment before heading in to interrogate Mike Nell. She took out her phone, looking to see if she had received a text from Harrison. She assumed he’d be at the airport by now, maybe having spoken to other family members to get a better idea of what was going on back home.. She genuinely felt sorry for him and even though she did not know him all that well, she wished there was something she could do for him.

Setting her emotions aside for the moment, she pocketed her phone and entered the interrogation room. Mike Nell looked up at her and didn’t bother hiding the look of contempt. But now there was something else, too. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking her out, his eyes lingering especially longer than necessary on her hips.

“See something you like, Mr. Nell?” she asked as she took a seat.

Clearly perplexed by the question, Nell chuckled nervously and said, “I guess.”

“I suppose you know that you’re in trouble for putting your hands on an FBI agent, even if it was just a push.”

“What about your little lug wrench stunt?” he asked.

“Would you have preferred my gun? A shot right through the calf or shoulder to slow you down?”

Nell had nothing to say to that.

“It’s clear we’re not going to be best friends anytime soon,” Mackenzie said, “so let’s skip the small talk. I’d like to know just about everywhere you’ve been over the course of the last week.”

“That’s a long list,” Nell said defiantly.

“Yes, I’m sure a man of your character gets all over the place. So let’s start with two nights ago. Where were you between six p.m. and six a.m.?”

“Two nights ago? I was out with a friend. Played some cards, had a few drinks. Nothing big.”

“Can anyone other than your friend vouch for that?”

Nell shrugged. “I don’t know. There were a few other guys playing cards with us. What the hell is all this about anyway?”

Mackenzie didn’t see the point in dragging it out any further than necessary. If she wasn’t so distracted by what was going on with Harrison, she might have grilled him further before getting straight to the point, hoping he’d trip himself up if he was indeed guilty.

“A couple was found murdered in their townhouse two nights ago. It just happens to be a townhouse located in the same complex of townhouses you were busted for attempted burglary and aggravated assault. Put the two together, plus the fact that you’ve been paroled for a little less than a month, and that puts you high on the list of people to question.”

“That’s bullshit,” Nell said.

“No, that’s logic. Something I’m assuming you’re not familiar with based on your criminal record.”

She could see that he wanted to toss a remark back out to her but he stopped himself, again chewing on his bottom lip. “I haven’t been back by that place since I got out,” he said. “What the hell sort of sense would that make?”

She eyed him skeptically for a moment and asked: “What about your friends? Are they guys you met while in prison?”

“One of them, yeah.”

“Any of your friends into burglary and assault, too?”

“No,” he spat. “One of the guys has a breaking and entering charge on him from when he was a teenager, but no…they wouldn’t kill anyone. Neither would I.”

“But breaking and entering and beating someone is A-OK?”

“I never killed anyone,” he said again. He was clearly frustrated and showing great restraint to not lash out at her. And that’s exactly what she had been looking for. If he were guilty of the murders, the chance of him growing instantly defensive and angry would be much higher. The fact that he was doing his best to stay out of trouble, even from lashing out verbally at an FBI agent, showed that he likely had no connection to the murders.

“Okay, so let’s say you’re not connected with these murders. What are you guilty of? I’m assuming you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Why else would you push me, an FBI agent, and try to run?”

“I’m not talking,” he said. “Not until I see a lawyer.”

“Ah, I forget you’re a pro at this game by now. So yeah, fine…we’ll get you your lawyer. But I assume you also know how the police work. We know you’re guilty of something. And we’re going to find out what it is. So tell me now and save everyone some trouble.”

His five straight seconds of silence indicated that he intended to do no such thing.

“I’m going to need the names and the numbers of the men you claim to have been with two nights ago. Give me those and if your alibi checks out, you’re free to go.”

“Fine,” Nell grunted.

His reaction to this was yet another sign that he was likely innocent of the murders. There was no instant relief on his face, just a sort of annoyed irritation that he had somehow once again found himself back in an interrogation room.

Mackenzie took the names of the men down and noted for Dagney or whoever was in charge of such things to scroll through Nell’s cell phone for their numbers. She left the interrogation room and headed back into observation.

“Well?” Rodriguez said.

“He’s not our guy,” Mackenzie said. “But just for protocol, here’s a list of his friends he says he was with on the night the Kurtzes were murdered.”

“You’re sure of that?”

She nodded.

“There was no real relief when I told him he could likely leave after his alibi checked out. And I tried to get a rise out of him, to trip him up. His behavior simply is not indicative of a guilty party. But like I said, we should check the accomplices just to be sure. Nell is sure as hell guilty of something. I’ve got a sore backside from falling down to prove it. Think your guys can figure out what it is?”

“You got it.”

She left the station, confident that Mike Nell was not their man. Somewhere beyond that, though, she started to think of her father.

She supposed it was bound to happen. There were a few similarities between his case and the current case she was on. Someone had come into the couples’ homes with no signs of forced entry, insinuating that the couples knew the killer and let him in willingly. She caught flashes of her father, sprawled bloody on the bed, as she recalled the images she’d seen of the Kurtzes and Sterlings in the case files.

Thinking of a deceased parent made her feel more strongly for Harrison’s situation. She got to the motel as quickly as she could, yet when she knocked on his door, he did not answer. Mackenzie walked to the front desk and found a bored-looking receptionist thumbing through a Star magazine.

“Excuse me, but did my partner leave?”

“Yes, he left about five minutes ago. I called him a cab to take him to the airport.”

“Thank you,” Mackenzie said, deflated.

She left the front office feeling strangely alienated. Sure, she’d been on a few cases alone before, especially when working as a detective in Nebraska. But being in a strange city without a partner made her feel particularly alone. It made her feel slightly uneasy but there was no use in trying to ignore it.

With that sense of displacement growing by the second, Mackenzie figured she’d put a stop to it the only way she knew how: by drowning herself in work. She got back into her car and went directly back to the station, thinking that while pursuing the case alone might be a bit depressing, it could also be just the motivation she needed to find the killer before the day came to a close.