the source of where those sexual urges come from, he feels in control. The lashes on the back indicate that he’s almost punishing them, probably for their provocative nature. Then there’s the fact that there are no signs of sexual abuse. It makes me wonder if this is some sort of attempt at purity in the killer’s eyes.”
Porter shook his head, almost like some disappointed parent.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said. “A waste of time. You’ve got yourself so far into this you don’t even know what you think anymore – and none of that is gonna help us. You can’t see the forest for the trees.”
The awkward silence blanketed them again. Apparently done speaking, Porter turned the radio up.
It lasted only a few minutes, though. As they neared Omaha, Porter turned the radio back down without being prompted this time. Porter spoke up and when he did, he sounded nervous, but Mackenzie could also hear the effort he was putting forth to sound like he was the one in charge.
“You ever interviewed kids after they lost a parent?” Porter asked.
“Once,” she said. “After a drive-by. An eleven-year-old boy.”
“I’ve had a few, too. It’s not fun.”
“No, it’s not,” Mackenzie agreed.
“Well look, we’re about to ask two boys questions about their dead mom. The topic of where she works is bound to come up. We have to handle this thing with kid gloves – no pun intended.”
She fumed. He was doing that thing where he spoke down to her as if she were a child.
“Let me lead. You can be the comforting shoulder if they start crying. Nelson says the sister will also be there, but I can’t imagine she’d be any reliable source of comfort. She’s probably just as wrecked as the kids.”
Mackenzie actually didn’t think it was the best idea. But she also knew that when Porter and Nelson were involved, she needed to choose her battles wisely. So if Porter wanted to take charge of asking two grieving kids about their dead mom, she’d let him have that weird ego trip.
“As you want,” she said through clenched teeth.
The car fell into silence again. This time, Porter kept the radio turned down, the only sounds coming from the shifting of pages in Mackenzie’s lap. There was a larger story in those pages and the documents Nancy had sent; Mackenzie was sure of it.
Of course, for the story to be told, all of the characters needed to be revealed. And for now, the central character was still hiding in the shadows.
The car slowed and Mackenzie raised her head as they turned down a quiet block. She felt a familiar pit in her stomach, and she wished she were anywhere but here.
They were about to talk to a dead woman’s kids.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mackenzie was surprised as she entered Hailey Lizbrook’s apartment; it was not what she had expected. It was neat and tidy, the furniture nicely centered and dusted. The décor was very much that of a domesticated woman, right down to the coffee mugs with cute sayings and the pot holders hanging from ornate hooks by the stove. It was evident that she had run a tight ship, right down to the haircuts and pajamas on her sons.
It was very much like the family and home she always dreamed of having herself.
Mackenzie recalled from the files that the boys were nine and fifteen; the oldest was Kevin and the youngest was Dalton. It was clear as she met him that Dalton had been crying a lot, his blue eyes rimmed with puffy red splotches.
Kevin, on the other hand, looked angry more than anything else. As they settled in and Porter took the lead, it showed perfectly clear when Porter tried speaking to them in a tone that was somewhere between condescending and a preschool teacher trying too hard. Mackenzie winced inside as Porter spoke.
“Now I need to know if your mother had any men friends,” Porter said.
He stood in the center of the room while the boys sat on the living room couch. Hailey’s sister, Jennifer, was standing in the adjoining kitchen, smoking a cigarette by the stove with the exhaust fan running.
“You mean like a boyfriend?” Dalton asked.
“Sure, that could be a male friend,” Porter said. “But I don’t even mean like that. Any man that she might have spoken to more than once. Even someone like a mailman or someone at the grocery store.”
Both of the boys were looking at Porter as if they were expecting him to perform a magic trick or maybe even spontaneously combust. Mackenzie was doing the same. She had never heard him use such a soft tone. It was almost funny to hear such a soothing tone come out of his mouth.
“No, I don’t think so,” Dalton said.
“No,” Kevin agreed. “And she didn’t have a boyfriend, either. Not that I know of.”
Mackenzie and Porter looked to Jennifer over by the stove for an answer. All they got in response was a shrug. Mackenzie was pretty sure Jennifer was in some sort of shock. It made her wonder if there might be another family member that could take care of these boys for a while, since Jennifer certainly didn’t seem like a fit guardian at the moment.
“Well, how about people that you and your mom didn’t get along with?” Porter asked. “Did you ever hear her arguing with anyone?”
Dalton only shook his head. Mackenzie was pretty sure the kid was on the brink of tears again. As for Kevin, he rolled his eyes while looking directly at Porter.
“No,” he said. “We’re not stupid. We know what you’re trying to ask us. You want to know if we can think of anyone that might have killed our mom. Right?”
Porter looked as if he had been punched in the gut. He glanced nervously over to Mackenzie but managed to get his composure back fairly quickly.
“Well, yes,” he said. “That’s what I’m getting at. But it seems clear that you don’t have any information.”
“You think?” Kevin said.
There was a tense moment where Mackenzie was certain that Porter was going to get harsh with the kid. Kevin was looking at Porter with pain in his expression, almost daring Porter to keep at him.
“Well,” Porter said, “I think I’ve bothered you boys enough. Thanks for your time.”
“Hold on,” Mackenzie said, the objection coming out of her mouth before she was able to think about stopping it.
Porter gave her a look that could have melted wax. It was clear that he felt they were wasting their time talking to these two grief-stricken sons – especially a fifteen-year-old that clearly had issues with authority. Mackenzie shrugged his expression off and knelt down to Dalton’s eye level.
“Listen, do you think you could go hang out in the kitchen with your aunt for a second?”
“Yeah,” Dalton said, his voice ragged and soft.
“Detective Porter, why don’t you go with him?”
Again, Porter’s gaze toward her was filled with hate. Mackenzie stared right back at
