towns to understand the allure of a rural marker like the Miller Moon Bridge. The history and the overall neglected creepiness of it was appealing, especially to teens. And, as the records in front of her showed, six of the fourteen suicides had been under twenty-one years of age.
She pored over the records; while they weren’t as explicitly detailed as she would have liked, they were above par for what she had seen from most small-town police departments. She jotted down note after note, coming up with a comprehensive list of details to help her better get to the bottom of the multiple deaths that were linked to the Miller Moon Bridge. After an hour or so, she had enough to base a few rough opinions.
First, of the fourteen suicides, exactly half had left notes. The notes made it clear that they had made the decision to end their lives. Each record had a photocopy of the letter and all of them expressed regret of some form or another. They told loved ones they cherished them and expressed pains that they could not overcome.
The other seven could almost be looked at as typical suspected murder cases: bodies discovered out of nowhere, in rough shape. One of the suicides, a seventeen-year-old female, had shown evidence of recent sexual activity. When the DNA of her partner had been found on and in her body, he had provided evidence in the form of text messages that she had come to his house, they’d had sex, and then she’d left. And from the way it looked, she had launched herself off of the Miller Moon Bridge about three hours later.
The only case out of the fourteen that she could see that would have warranted any sort of closer look was the sad and unfortunate suicide of a sixteen-year-old male. When he had been discovered on those bloodied rocks beneath the bridge, there had been bruises on his chest and arms that did not line up with any of the injuries he had suffered from the fall itself. Within a few days, police had discovered that the boy had been routinely beaten by an alcoholic father who, sadly enough, attempted suicide three days after the discovery of his son’s body.
Mackenzie finished off the research session with the freshly put together file on Malory Thomas. Her case stood out a bit from the others because she had been nude. The report showed that her clothes had been found in a neat pile on the bridge. There had been so sign of abuse, recent sexual activity, or foul play. For some reason or another, it simply seemed that Malory Thomas had decided to take that leap in her birthday suit.
That seems odd, though, Mackenzie thought. Out of place, even. If you’re going to kill yourself, why would you want yourself exposed like that when your body is found?
She pondered it for a moment and then remembered the psychiatrist Sheriff Tate had mentioned. Of course, now that it was nearly midnight, it was too late to call.
Midnight, she thought. She looked to her phone, surprised that Ellington had not tried reaching out. She supposed he was playing it smart – not wanting to bother her until he thought she was in a good place. And honestly, she wasn’t sure what sort of place she was in. So he’d made a mistake in his life long before he knew her…why the hell should she be so upset about that?
She wasn’t sure. But she knew that she was…and in that moment, that was really all that mattered.
Before turning in for bed, she looked at the business card the woman at the station had placed in the file. It was the name, number, and email address of the local psychiatrist, Dr. Jan Haggerty. Wanting to be as prepared as possible, Mackenzie fired off an email, letting Dr. Haggerty know that she was in town, why she was there, and requesting a meeting as early as possible. Mackenzie figured if she had not heard from Haggerty by nine tomorrow morning, she’d go ahead and place a call.
Before turning out the lights, she thought about calling Ellington, just to check on him. She knew him well enough; he was probably having a pity party for himself, likely downing several beers with plans of passing out on the couch.
Thinking of him in that state made the decision much easier for her. She turned out the lights and, in the darkness, started to feel like she might be in a town that was darker than others. The kind of town that hid some ugly scars, forever in the dark not because of the rural setting but because of a certain blemish on a gravel road about six miles from where she currently rested her head. And although she did her best to clear her thoughts, she fell asleep with images of teenagers falling to their deaths from the top of Miller Moon Bridge.
CHAPTER SIX
She was stirred awake by the ringing of her cell phone. The bedside clock told her that it was 6:40 as she reached for it. She saw McGrath’s name on the display, had just enough time to wish it were Ellington instead, and then answered it.
“This is Agent White.”
“White, where are we on this case with Director Wilmoth’s nephew?”
“Well, right now it seems like a clear-cut suicide. If it plays out the way I think it will, I should be back in DC this afternoon.”
“No foul play at all?”
“Not that I can see. If you don’t mind my asking…is Director Wilmoth looking for foul play?”
“No. But let’s be real…a suicide in the family for a man of his position isn’t going to look good. He just wants the details before the public gets them.”
“Roger that.”
“White, did I wake you?” he asked gruffly.
“Of course not, sir.”
“Keep me in the loop on this,” he said and then ended the call.
A hell of a way to wake up, Mackenzie thought as she got out of bed. She went to the shower and when she was done, a towel wrapped around her, she walked out of the bathroom to the sound of her phone going off yet again.
She did not recognize the number, so she picked it up right away. With her hair still wet, she answered: “This is Agent White.”
“Agent White, this is Jan Haggerty,” said a somber-sounding voice. “I just finished reading your email.”
“Thanks for getting back to me so soon,” Mackenzie said. “I know it’s asking a lot for someone in your profession, but is there any way you and I could meet for a chat sometime today?”
“That’s not a problem at all,” Haggerty said. “My office is out of my home and my first appointment isn’t until nine thirty this morning. If you give me half an hour or so to prepare for my day, I can see you this morning. I’ll put on some coffee.”
“Sounds great,” Mackenzie said.
Haggerty gave Mackenzie her address and they ended the call. With half an hour to spare, Mackenzie decided she should do the grown-up thing and give Ellington a call. It would do neither of them any good to hide away from the issue at hand and just hope the other simply forgot about it or was able to sweep it under the rug.
When he answered the call, he sounded tired. Mackenzie assumed she had woken him up, which wasn’t all that surprising since he tended to sleep in on the days he had off. But she was pretty sure she also detected some hopefulness in his voice.
“Hey,” he said.
“Good morning,” she said. “How are you?”
“I don’t know,” he said almost right away. “Out of sorts would be the best way to describe it. But I’ll survive. The more I think about it, the more sure I am that this will all blow over. I’ll have a little blemish on my professional record,
