Читать книгу Before He Needs - Блейк Пирс - Страница 9

Dropping Harrison off at the motel was bittersweet. She wished she could do more for him or, at the very least, offer some more comforting words. In the end, though, she only gave him a half-hearted wave as he went into his room to pack his things and call a cab to take him to the airport.

Once his door had closed behind him, Mackenzie pasted the address Dagney had sent her into her GPS. Lipton Auto Garage was exactly seventeen minutes from the motel, a distance she started to cover right away.

Being alone in the car felt strange but she again distracted herself with the Miami scenery. It was different from any other beach-oriented city she had ever been in. Where smaller towns situated by the beach seemed a little sandy and almost faded, everything in Miami seemed to shine and sparkle despite the nearby sand and salt spray from the ocean. Here and there she would see a building that seemed out of place, neglected and forlorn – a reminder that everything had its blemishes.

She arrived at the garage sooner than she expected, having been distracted by taking in the sights of the city. She parked in a lot that was overcrowded with broken down cars and trucks that were obviously being pillaged for spare parts. It looked like the sort of operation that was forever in a state of almost going bankrupt.

Before walking into the place, she did a quick once-over of the place. There was a run-down front office that was currently unattended. The attached garage held three bays, only one of which contained a car; it was up on risers but did not look to be having any work done on it. In the garage, one man was rummaging through a shelf-shaped toolbox. Another was in the very back of the garage, standing on a small ladder and rifling through a series of old cardboard boxes.

Mackenzie walked over to the man closest to her, the one looking through the toolbox. He looked to be nearing forty, with long greasy hair that hung down to his shoulders. The stubble on his face was not quite a beard. When he looked up at her as she approached, he smiled brightly.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said with a bit of a Southern accent. “What can I help you with today?”

Mackenzie flashed her badge. “You can stop calling me darling first of all. Then you can tell me if you happen to be Mike Nell.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said. He was staring at her ID with something like fear. He then looked back at her face, as if trying to decide if he was part of some prank.

“Mr. Nell, I’d like for you to – ”

He wheeled around quickly and shoved her. Hard. She stumbled backward and her feet struck a tire that was lying on the ground. As she lost her footing and went falling to her backside, she caught a glimpse of Nell running away. He was leaving the garage, running and looking over his shoulder.

That escalated quickly, she thought. He’d sure as hell guilty of something.

Her instincts wanted to go for her gun. But that would cause a scene. So she got up and gave chase. Yet, as she pushed herself up, her hand fell on something else that had been left on the floor. It was a lug wrench – possibly the one that had taken off the tire she had fallen over.

She picked it up and quickly got to her feet. She dashed to the front of the garage and saw Nell at the sidewalk, about to cross the street. Mackenzie quickly looked both ways, saw that there were no cars within a few feet, and drew her arm back.

She launched the lug wrench through the air with as much force as she could. It sailed over the fifteen feet or so that separated her and Nell, striking him squarely in the back. He let out a yelp of surprise and pain before staggering forward and falling to his knees, nearly face planting on the side of the street.

She ran after him, driving a knee into his back before he could even think about trying to get back to his feet.

She pinned his arms behind him and pushed down. He tried squirming but then realized that trying to get away only caused more pain as his shoulders were stretched back. With a quickness that she had been practicing for months now, she pulled the set of handcuffs from her belt and slapped them around Nell’s wrist.

“That was stupid,” Mackenzie said. “I only wanted to ask some questions…and you gave me the answer I was looking for.”

Nell said nothing but he did finally accept that he could not get away from her. As cars passed by, the other man from the garage came rushing over.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

“Mr. Nell just attacked an FBI agent,” Mackenzie said. “I’m afraid he won’t be able to finish out the day for you.”

***

Mackenzie observed Mike Nell from behind the double-mirror of the observation room. He looked aggravated and embarrassed – a scowl that had remained on his face ever since Mackenzie had hauled him to his feet, handcuffed in front of his employer. He chewed nervously at his lip, an indication that he was probably itching for a cigarette or a drink.

Mackenzie looked away from him to study the file in her hands. It told the brief but troubled story of Mike Nell, a teenage runaway at the age of sixteen, busted for petty theft and aggravated assault for the first time at eighteen. The last twelve years of his life painted the portrait of a troubled loser – assault, theft, breaking and entering, a few stints in prison.

Beside Mackenzie, Dagney and Chief Rodriguez looked out at Nell with something like contempt.

“I take it you’ve seen a lot of him in the past?” Mackenzie asked.

“We have,” Rodriguez said. “And somehow, the courts keep just slapping him on the wrist and that’s it. The longest sentence he served was the one he just got paroled from, and that was for a sentence of one year. If it turns out this jackass is responsible for these murders, the courts are going to be tucking their tail between their legs.”

Mackenzie handed the report to Dagney and stepped toward the door. “Well then, let’s see what he has to say,” she said.

She exited the room and stood in the hallway for a moment before heading in to interrogate Mike Nell. She took out her phone, looking to see if she had received a text from Harrison. She assumed he’d be at the airport by now, maybe having spoken to other family members to get a better idea of what was going on back home.. She genuinely felt sorry for him and even though she did not know him all that well, she wished there was something she could do for him.

Setting her emotions aside for the moment, she pocketed her phone and entered the interrogation room. Mike Nell looked up at her and didn’t bother hiding the look of contempt. But now there was something else, too. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking her out, his eyes lingering especially longer than necessary on her hips.

“See something you like, Mr. Nell?” she asked as she took a seat.

Clearly perplexed by the question, Nell chuckled nervously and said, “I guess.”

“I suppose you know that you’re in trouble for putting your hands on an FBI agent, even if it was just a push.”

“What about your little lug wrench stunt?” he asked.

“Would you have preferred my gun? A shot right through the calf or shoulder to slow you down?”

Nell had nothing to say to that.

“It’s clear we’re not going to be best friends anytime soon,” Mackenzie said, “so let’s skip the small talk. I’d like to know just about everywhere you’ve been over the course of the last week.”

“That’s a long list,” Nell said defiantly.

“Yes, I’m sure a man of your character gets all over the place. So let’s start with two nights ago. Where were you between six p.m. and six a.m.?”

“Two nights ago? I was out with a friend. Played some cards, had a few drinks. Nothing big.”

“Can anyone other than your friend vouch for that?”

Nell shrugged. “I don’t know. There were a few other guys playing cards with us. What the hell is all this about anyway?”

Mackenzie didn’t see the point in dragging it out any further than necessary. If she wasn’t so distracted by what was going on with Harrison, she might have grilled him further before getting straight to the point, hoping he’d trip himself up if he was indeed guilty.

“A couple was found murdered in their townhouse two nights ago. It just happens to be a townhouse located in the same complex of townhouses you were busted for attempted burglary and aggravated assault. Put the two together, plus the fact that you’ve been paroled for a little less than a month, and that puts you high on the list of people to question.”

“That’s bullshit,” Nell said.

“No, that’s logic. Something I’m assuming you’re not familiar with based on your criminal record.”

She could see that he wanted to toss a remark back out to her but he stopped himself, again chewing on his bottom lip. “I haven’t been back by that place since I got out,” he said. “What the hell sort of sense would that make?”

She eyed him skeptically for a moment and asked: “What about your friends? Are they guys you met while in prison?”

“One of them, yeah.”

“Any of your friends into burglary and assault, too?”

“No,” he spat. “One of the guys has a breaking and entering charge on him from when he was a teenager, but no…they wouldn’t kill anyone. Neither would I.”

“But breaking and entering and beating someone is A-OK?”

“I never killed anyone,” he said again. He was clearly frustrated and showing great restraint to not lash out at her. And that’s exactly what she had been looking for. If he were guilty of the murders, the chance of him growing instantly defensive and angry would be much higher. The fact that he was doing his best to stay out of trouble, even from lashing out verbally at an FBI agent, showed that he likely had no connection to the murders.

“Okay, so let’s say you’re not connected with these murders. What are you guilty of? I’m assuming you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Why else would you push me, an FBI agent, and try to run?”

“I’m not talking,” he said. “Not until I see a lawyer.”

“Ah, I forget you’re a pro at this game by now. So yeah, fine…we’ll get you your lawyer. But I assume you also know how the police work. We know you’re guilty of something. And we’re going to find out what it is. So tell me now and save everyone some trouble.”

His five straight seconds of silence indicated that he intended to do no such thing.

“I’m going to need the names and the numbers of the men you claim to have been with two nights ago. Give me those and if your alibi checks out, you’re free to go.”

“Fine,” Nell grunted.

His reaction to this was yet another sign that he was likely innocent of the murders. There was no instant relief on his face, just a sort of annoyed irritation that he had somehow once again found himself back in an interrogation room.

Mackenzie took the names of the men down and noted for Dagney or whoever was in charge of such things to scroll through Nell’s cell phone for their numbers. She left the interrogation room and headed back into observation.

“Well?” Rodriguez said.

“He’s not our guy,” Mackenzie said. “But just for protocol, here’s a list of his friends he says he was with on the night the Kurtzes were murdered.”

“You’re sure of that?”

She nodded.

“There was no real relief when I told him he could likely leave after his alibi checked out. And I tried to get a rise out of him, to trip him up. His behavior simply is not indicative of a guilty party. But like I said, we should check the accomplices just to be sure. Nell is sure as hell guilty of something. I’ve got a sore backside from falling down to prove it. Think your guys can figure out what it is?”

“You got it.”

She left the station, confident that Mike Nell was not their man. Somewhere beyond that, though, she started to think of her father.

She supposed it was bound to happen. There were a few similarities between his case and the current case she was on. Someone had come into the couples’ homes with no signs of forced entry, insinuating that the couples knew the killer and let him in willingly. She caught flashes of her father, sprawled bloody on the bed, as she recalled the images she’d seen of the Kurtzes and Sterlings in the case files.

Thinking of a deceased parent made her feel more strongly for Harrison’s situation. She got to the motel as quickly as she could, yet when she knocked on his door, he did not answer. Mackenzie walked to the front desk and found a bored-looking receptionist thumbing through a Star magazine.

“Excuse me, but did my partner leave?”

“Yes, he left about five minutes ago. I called him a cab to take him to the airport.”

“Thank you,” Mackenzie said, deflated.

She left the front office feeling strangely alienated. Sure, she’d been on a few cases alone before, especially when working as a detective in Nebraska. But being in a strange city without a partner made her feel particularly alone. It made her feel slightly uneasy but there was no use in trying to ignore it.

With that sense of displacement growing by the second, Mackenzie figured she’d put a stop to it the only way she knew how: by drowning herself in work. She got back into her car and went directly back to the station, thinking that while pursuing the case alone might be a bit depressing, it could also be just the motivation she needed to find the killer before the day came to a close.