went back to the McCauleys’ case, mainly because it was the only one with even the thinnest thread of similarity to it. She pulled her e-mail back up and opened the most recent mail from the Bent Creek PD. She replied to it and wrote:
Thanks so much for the help. I was wondering if I could get a few other things as soon as possible. I’d like to get a list of family members related to the McCauleys that live within a fifty-mile radius, along with contact information. If you have the number for Delores Manning’s agent, that would be great, too.
She felt almost lazy requesting the information in such a way. But if they were offering to help so effortlessly, she wanted to use the Bent Creek PD as a resource as much as she could.
With that done, Mackenzie opened up another file…a file that she had managed to tuck away and not obsess over for nearly three weeks now. She opened it up, cycled through the files, and pulled up a single photograph.
It was a business card with her father’s name scrawled on the back. On the other side, showed in another photo, was a business name in bold lettering: Barker Antiques: Old or New Rare Collectibles.
And that was it. She already knew that no such place existed—not as far as she or the FBI could tell—which made it all the more frustrating. She eyed the card and felt a pull at her heart. She was about two and a half hours away from the place her father had died and maybe three hours away from where the business card in the photo had been found—nearly twenty years after her father’s death.
It was not her case…not really. McGrath had given her something of an under-the-table pass at assisting when she could but so far, the case had remained cold. She thought of Kirk Peterson, the detective who had uncovered the new clues that had reopened her father’s case. She nearly called him up but realized that it had somehow gotten to be 11:45. And besides that, what would they talk about other than the silence coming from the current and reopened cases?
But she needed to call him. Maybe after this case, when she could give Peterson and the case her full attention. It was about time she got that damned monkey off of her back.
She readied herself for bed, brushing her teeth and changing into a thin pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Just before she settled into bed, she checked her phone one last time for any late incoming mails.
She saw that her e-mail request for information from the Bent Creek PD had already been responded to, having come in a mere seventeen minutes after she had sent it. She jotted the information down in her files and made a mental schedule for the following day. She then finally allowed herself to turn off the lights and go to bed.
She did not like ending a day and turning out the lights on unanswered questions. It was an unsettling feeling that she supposed she’d never get used to. But she had adapted long ago, finding a way to sleep a few fitful hours while the answers to her questions lurked in the darkness of night comfortably out of her grasp.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mackenzie had just finished getting dressed when someone knocked on the door of her motel room. She checked through the peephole and saw Ellington standing there. He was holding a small cardboard box with two cups of coffee perched on top. She opened the door and let him in, not sure how to feel about him being ready for the day before her. She had always prided herself on her promptness and her tendency to be early. It now looked like she might have some competition in that area.
“Am I interrupting the complicated morning flow of a woman getting ready?” he joked as he set the box and the coffees down on the small table by her already-made bed.
“No, I just finished up,” she said, gladly taking the coffee.
Ellington flipped the box open and revealed half a dozen donuts. “Sure, it’s a cliché,” he said. “But damn…is there anything better than fresh donuts?”
In response, she picked one up and took a bite.
“So what’s today look like?” he asked.
“Why are you asking me?”
He shrugged and took up his own donut. “Let’s shoot straight, White. I know enough about you to know that you work better when you’re in control. That’s not to say that you aren’t a good backup or partner. But facts are facts. I have no problem with you running things here. I want to see you shine just as much as McGrath. So, I repeat my question: What’s today look like?”
“Well, I looked through the missing persons cases over the last ten years last night,” Mackenzie answered. “There was only one case that was worth looking into—a car accident during an ice storm where a woman was thrown from the car and her body was never found. Vicki McCauley.”
“How long ago was this?” Ellington asked.
“It happened in 2009. I got the information for a single family member within the area and think it might be worth looking into. I also want to give Delores Manning’s agent a call. Maybe they know personal details about her life that might help us. The fact that Manning has family so close to the areas where the disappearances are occurring makes me think her personal life might be worth looking into.”
“Well then, let’s get to it,” Ellington said.
Mackenzie checked her phone and saw that it was 7:50. She grinned at him and sipped from her coffee. It was black, which she usually didn’t care for, but she wasn’t going to complain.
“You’re a morning person, huh?” she said.
“It depends on the case. The more answers there are to find, the easier it is for me to roll out of bed.”
“Well, seeing as how we have a grand total of no answers for this one, I guess you were up very early this morning.”
He gave a nod and took a gulp of his coffee as they headed out of her room and to the parking lot. As they got into the car—Ellington in the driver’s seat and Mackenzie already pulling up the number for Delores Manning’s agent—Mackenzie thought Ellington was on to something. It was a bit easier to hit the ground running when there were no answers at their disposal. The sense that there was something to be discovered out there that could lead them to the three missing women made the morning seem a little more promising. And it made her all the more anxious to get to work.
When Mackenzie got Harriett Wheeler on the phone, she knew right away that she had woken the woman up. Wheeler, who had been Delores Manning’s agent for the last four years, sounded tired and cranky when she answered the phone on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ms. Wheeler. This is Agent Mackenzie White with the FBI. I was wondering if you might be able to answer a few questions for me.”
“About Delores, I assume?”
“Yes, about Delores. I apologize for the early call, but as I’m sure you understand, time is of the essence.”
“Yes, I get that. I jumped at the phone just now because I was kind of hoping you’d be a policeman or maybe even Delores herself to tell me everything was good now. But I assume she’s still missing?”
“Yes. So any new information you can provide is going to help us find her much faster.”
“Well, I already spoke to the police.”
“I know. My main question
