White.”
She cleared her throat, embarrassed.
“I grew up in Nebraska, sir,” she corrected.
“All the same, isn’t it?” he said.
She shook her head; those who weren’t from the Midwest would just never get it.
Iowa, she thought. Sure, it wasn’t Nebraska, but it was close enough, and the mere idea of heading back out that way made her uneasy. She knew she had no reason to fear the place; after all, she had made it to Quantico and made something of herself. She had achieved her dream of landing a role in the FBI. So why did the idea of traveling back there for a case unnerve her so quickly?
Because everything bad in your life is back there, she thought. Your childhood, your old colleagues, the mysteries surrounding your father’s death…
“There has been a string of disappearances, all women,” McGrath went on. “And so far it seems that they are being taken right off the road on these lonely little stretches of highway. The latest one was taken last night. Her car was found on the side of the road with two busted tires. There was a ridiculous amount of glass on the road, making the local PD assume there was foul play.”
He slid one of the folders over to Mackenzie and she took a look. There were several photos of the car, especially the tires. She also saw that the stretch of road was indeed isolated, surrounded by tall trees on both sides. One of the pictures also showed the contents of the latest victim’s car. Inside there was a coat, a small toolbox bolted to the side, and a box of books.
“What’s with the books?” Mackenzie asked.
“The latest victim was an author. Delores Manning. Google tells me she just had her second book published. One of those trashy romance deals. She’s not a big-time author by any means so we shouldn’t get any media interference…yet. The road has been closed off and detours set up by the state transportation department. So, White, I need you on a plane as soon as possible to get out there. Rural or not, the state obviously doesn’t want the road closed down for very long.”
McGrath then turned his attention to Harrison.
“Agent Harrison, I want you to understand something. Agent White has ties to the Midwest, so she was a no-brainer for this case. And while I have assigned you as her partner, I want you to stay here for this one. I want you here at headquarters to work behind the scenes. If Agent White calls with a research request, I want you on it. Not only that, but Delores Manning has an agent and publicist and all of that. So if this is not wrapped up quickly, the media will hop on it. I want you to handle that side of things. Keep things smooth and calm here at headquarters if the shit hits the fan. No offense, but I want a more experienced agent on this.”
Harrison nodded, but the disappointment in his eyes was impossible to miss. “No offense taken, sir. I’m happy to assist however I can.”
Oh no, Mackenzie thought. Not a brown-noser.
“So am I going solo on this?” Mackenzie asked.
McGrath grinned at her and shook his head. It was almost a playful kind of gesture that showed her that she had come a long way with McGrath since their first awkward and borderline hostile meetings.
“No way am I sending you out there by yourself,” he said. “I’ve arranged to have Agent Ellington work this one with you.”
“Oh,” she said, a bit stunned.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about this. There was a weird sort of chemistry between her and Ellington—there had been ever since she had first met him while working as a detective out of rural Nebraska. She had enjoyed working with him for that short span but now that things were different…well, it would make for an interesting case to say the least. But there was nothing to worry about. She felt confident that she could easily divide whatever personal feelings she had for him from the professional ones.
“Might I ask why?” Mackenzie asked.
“He’s got a brief history of working with the local field agents out there, as you know. He’s also got an impressive record when it comes to missing persons cases. Why?”
“Just asking, sir,” she said, easily recalling the first time she and Ellington had met when he had come out to assist with the Scarecrow Killer case when she was still working for the PD out there. “Did he…well, did he ask to work with me on this?”
“No,” McGrath said. “It just so happens that you’re both perfect for this case—him with his connections and you with your past.”
McGrath stood up from his chair, effectively ending the conversation. “You should be getting e-mails about your flight within a few minutes,” McGrath said. “I believe you’ll be flying out at eleven fifty-five.”
“But that’s only an hour and a half away,” she said.
“Then I suggest you get moving.”
She exited the office quickly, looking back only once to see Agent Harrison still sitting in his seat like a lost puppy, unsure of what to do or where to go. But she had no time to worry about his potentially hurt feelings. She had to figure out how to pack and get to the airport in less than an hour and a half.
And on top of that, she had to figure out why she dreaded the idea of working a case with Ellington.
CHAPTER TWO
Mackenzie arrived at the airport running, with barely enough time to reach her gate. She rushed onto the plane five minutes after the flight had started to board and ambled down the aisle slightly out of breath, frustrated and thrown off. She briefly wondered if Ellington had made it on time but, quite frankly, was just glad she had not missed the flight. Ellington was a big boy—he could take care of himself.
Her question was answered when she located her seat. Ellington was already on the plane, sitting comfortably in the seat beside hers. He smiled at her from his place by the window seat, giving her a little wave. She shook her head and sighed heavily.
“Bad day?” he asked.
“Well, it started with a funeral and then a meeting with McGrath,” Mackenzie said. “I then had to rush home to pack a bag and run through Dulles to barely make the flight. And it’s not even noon yet.”
“So things can only get better then,” Ellington joked.
Shoving her carry-on into the overhead compartment, Mackenzie said: “We’ll see. Say, doesn’t the FBI have private planes?”
“Yes, but only for extremely time-sensitive cases. And for superstar employees. This case is not time sensitive and we are most certainly not star employees.”
When she was finally in her seat, she took a moment to relax. She peered over at Ellington and saw that he was thumbing through a folder that was identical to the one she had seen in McGrath’s office.
“What do you think of this case?” Ellington asked.
“I think it’s too soon to speculate,” she said.
He gave her a roll of his eyes and a playful frown. “You’ve got to have some sort of first reaction. What is it?”
While
