of the room.
She stared until her eyes started to ache and could still not be certain what she was looking at. Knowing that it might be a long shot, she opened up an empty email to send directly to two agents she knew would act fast and efficiently—two agents whom, she randomly thought, she and Ellington needed to invite to their wedding: Agents Yardley and Harrison.
She attached the files she had received to the email and wrote a quick message: Could either of you look into the files for these cases and see if anyone ended up taking an inventory of what was inside the storage units? Maybe check with the owners of the storage facilities.
Knowing that there was very little left to do, Mackenzie finally allowed herself to go to bed. Because she was so tired and the day came falling down on her in a heap, she was asleep less than two minutes before her head hit the pillow.
Even when the eerie sight of the doll from Elizabeth Newcomb’s storage unit surfaced in her head, she managed to ignore it—for the most part—and drift soundly to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Mackenzie wasn’t at all surprised to wake up at 6:30 and find that Agent Harrison had come through. He was practically a research guru and had quickly learned his way around files, folders, and copious amounts of data. His email contained two attachments and a typical to-the-point message.
The two documents attached are inventories taken by the FBI. These are all we have because the families of two of the other victims refused bureau requests to go through their stored belongings. The fifth is missing because the owner of the facility auctioned the contents off three days after the death. Seems like a bastard thing to do, but the victim had no family to come collect her belongings.
I hope this helps. Let me know if you need anything more specific.
Mackenzie opened up the attachment and found a very simplified list prepared in a simple Word document. The first was seven pages long. The second was thirty-six pages long. The longer document was an inventory for a unit belonging to Jade Barker. The name clicked with Mackenzie instantly; she pulled up the crime scene images from the original documents and saw that the messier one had been Jade Barker’s—the same one with the possible plate and pitcher sitting directly in the center of the image.
Mackenzie did a quick search through the document and found the two items listed on page two.
Toy pitcher.
Plastic toy plate.
Behind her, Ellington was getting dressed. As he buttoned up his shirt, he came over to her and looked at the screen. “Damn,” he said. “They came through for you, didn’t they?”
“Yes, they did,” she said, pointing at the two items. She then considered something for a moment before asking: “Where exactly is Salem, Oregon?”
“Northern part of the state. I’m not sure where.” He paused, looked at her with amused irritation, and sighed. “You planning on taking a day trip?”
“I think it might be worth it. I’d like to get a look at the sites and maybe speak to some of the family members.”
“We have family members to speak with here,” Ellington pointed out. “Starting with Elizabeth Newcomb’s parents. And honestly, I’d like to have a chat with the policemen that originally went into that storage unit to get a detailed report.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your morning planned out, then.”
“Mac…Salem is like four hours away, I think. No sense in splitting up just so you can be on the road all damn day just to hopefully get a fuzzy idea of what happened out there eight years ago.”
Mackenzie opened up a tab on her laptop and typed in Seattle and Salem, OR. Without looking back to him, she said: “It’s three and a half hours…say three with me driving. If all goes smooth, I’ll be back by dinner.”
“If all goes smooth,” Ellington echoed.
She smiled and stood up. “I love you, too.”
With that, she kissed him and rather wished she had retired to bed a little earlier last night.
“Harrison, I need you to find some more information for me.”
There was something about driving and speaking on the phone that exhilarated Mackenzie. Sure, she knew it was frowned upon but in her line of work, she saw it as the ultimate form of multi-tasking.
“And good morning to you, too,” Agent Harrison said from the other end of the phone. “I take it you got my mail?”
“I did. And it was a tremendous help. But I was wondering if you could do some more digging for me.”
She knew he would agree. In the past, he’d have to worry with what McGrath would think. But with Mackenzie’s new role and position directly under McGrath, she knew that Harrison would push her request to the top of his pile.
“What do you need?”
“I’m heading toward Salem, Oregon, right now to get a look at the crime scenes and interview anyone that I can. I’d like for you to see if you can find the names and contact information for any family or close friends of the victims that live in the area.”
“Yeah, I can get on that. How long of a drive are you looking at?”
“About three more hours.”
“You’ll have everything you need before you get there.”
“Thanks, Harrison.”
“So, is this case like some weird sort of pre-honeymoon thing for you two?” he asked.
“Far from it. I guess you could say it’s sort of like foreplay,” she joked.
“Yeah, that’s too much information. Let me get back to work for you. Happy trails, Agent White.”
They ended the call, leaving Mackenzie to stare out at Interstate 5 with nothing but her thoughts. She kept thinking about the image from the storage unit of Jade Barker, dead for about eight years. If the plate and pitcher she had spotted in the image were the same two objects that had been inventoried by the FBI, what did it mean? Sure, it was a thin connection to some weird findings in this new Seattle case, but where did it lead? Even if she left Salem with irrefutable proof that the killer was leaving behind tea party–themed trinkets and toys (and yes, she included dolls in a tea party theme), did it really accomplish much of anything?
Sure it does, she thought to herself. It gives us a bizarre path to pursue. It lets us hone in on one specific feature of the crime scenes—a feature that apparently means something special to the killer.
And there was one more thing, too. It would give them a glimpse into just how dangerous and warped this killer could be.
Chapter Eleven
True to his word, Harrison had given Mackenzie all of the information he could find. She had it all by the time she was half an hour away from Salem. The information came in a mixture of texts and emails with attachments. And while there wasn’t much to go on, Mackenzie thought she had more than enough.
She’d also taken some time
