Читать книгу Before He Sins - Блейк Пирс - Страница 10

In the time it had taken Mackenzie to leave Living Word and drive to the J. Edgar Hoover building, the media had somehow found out about the newest murder. While the murder of Father Costas had made the news, the death of Ned Tuttle had not. But with the lead pastor of a church with the status of Living Word, the case was going to blow up the headlines. It was 4:10 when Mackenzie arrived at the FBI offices, headed up to see McGrath. She figured that the details of Pastor Woodall and the case as a whole would be the main point of interest on local morning news programs – and all over the nation by noon.

She could feel the mounting pressure of it all as she stepped into McGrath’s office. He was sitting at his little conference table, on the phone with someone. Agent Harrison was there with him, reading something from a laptop. Yardley was also there, having arrived a scant few minutes before Mackenzie. She was sitting, listening to McGrath on the phone, apparently awaiting instruction.

Seeing the two of them hovering around McGrath made her wish Ellington was here. It reminded her that she was still in the dark about where McGrath had sent him. She wondered if it had something to do with this case – but if it did, why had she not been informed of his whereabouts?

When McGrath finally got off the phone, he looked to the three gathered agents and let out a sigh. “That was Assistant Director Kirsch,” he said. “He’s assembling three more agents to spearhead this case on his end. The moment the media caught wind of this, we were fucked. This is going to go big and it’s going to go big quickly.”

“Any particular reason?” Harrison asked.

“Living Word is a hugely popular church. The President goes there. A few other politicians are regulars, too. Their podcast gets around five hundred thousand listens a week. Woodall wasn’t like a celebrity or anything, but he was well known. And if it’s a church the President attends…”

“Got it,” Harrison said.

McGrath looked at Mackenzie and Yardley. “Anything of note at the scene?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Mackenzie said. She then went into detail about the peculiar and precise incision in Woodall’s right side. She did not, however, go into what sort of symbolic gesture she was trying to decipher from its meaning. She had no real solid theories just yet and did not want to waste time with speculation.

McGrath, however, was in panic mode. He spread his hands out on the table and nodded to the chairs around the table. “Take a seat. Let’s go over what we have. I want to be able to give Kirsch the same information we have. Including you three, we now have six agents dedicated to this case. If we work together, armed with the same details, we might be able to nab this guy before he strikes again.”

“Well,” Yardley said, “he’s not sticking to one denomination. We know that for sure. If anything, it seems like he’s trying to avoid that. So far we’ve got a Catholic church, a Presbyterian church, and now a nondenominational community church.”

“And another thing to consider,” Mackenzie said, “is that we can’t know for certain if he’s using the position of crucifixion as his preferred use of punishment and symbolism, or if he’s doing it as a mockery.”

“What’s the difference, really?” Harrison asked.

“Until we know which reason is behind it, we can’t narrow down the motive,” Mackenzie said. “If he’s doing it as a mockery, then he’s likely not a believer – maybe even some sort of very angry atheist or former believer. But if he’s doing it as a preferred means of symbolism, then he could be a very devout believer, albeit with some pretty strange ways to profess his faith.”

“And this thin cut along Woodall’s side,” McGrath said. “It wasn’t on any of the other bodies?”

“No,” Mackenzie said. “It was new. Which makes me think it has some meaning to it. Like the killer might even be trying to communicate something to us. Or just going further off the rails.”

McGrath pushed himself away from the table and looked to the ceiling, as if searching for answers up there. “I’m not blind to all of this,” he said. “I know there are zero clues and no real avenues to pursue. But if I don’t have something resembling a lead by the time this shit is splashed all over national news programs within a few hours, things are going to get bad around here. Kirsch says he’s already gotten a call from a congresswoman who attends Living Word asking why we weren’t able to crack this one as soon as Costas was killed. So I need the three of you to get me something. If I have nothing new to go on by this afternoon, I have to open it open wider…more resources, more manpower, And I really don’t want to do that.”

“I can check in with Forensics,” Yardley offered.

“Work alongside them for all I care,’ McGrath said. “I’ll make a call and okay it. I want you there the moment they discover anything from those bodies.”

“It might be a needle-in-a-haystack scenario,” Harrison said, “but I can start looking at local hardware stores to get records and receipts about anyone who has purchased the nails this guy is using in the last few months. From what I understand, they aren’t particularly common.”

McGrath nodded. It was an idea, sure, but the look on his face made it clear how much time that would take.

“And you, White?” he asked.

“I’ll go the families and co-workers,” she said. “In a church the size of Living Word, there’s got to be someone with some insight as to why this happened to Woodall.”

McGrath clapped his hands together loudly and sat forward. “Sounds good,” he said. “So get to it. And check in with me every hour on the hour. Got it?”

Yardley and Harrison nodded. Harrison closed his laptop as he stood up from the table. As they made their exit, Mackenzie hung back. When Yardley had closed the door behind them, leaving only Mackenzie and McGrath in the room, she turned back to him.

“Ah hell, what is it?” McGrath asked.

“I’m curious,” she said. “Agent Ellington would have been a valuable asset for this case. Where did you send him off to?”

McGrath shifted uncomfortably in his seat and briefly looked out the window of his office, to the early morning darkness outside.

“Well, before I tasked him with this other assignment, I obviously had no idea this case was going to be this bad. As for where he is currently working, with all due respect, that’s none of your business.”

“With the same respect,” she replied, doing her best not to sound too defensive, “you took away a partner I work well with, which leaves me on my own to work this case out.”

“You are not on your own,” McGrath said. “Harrison and Yardley are more than efficient. Now…please, Agent White. Get to work.”

She wanted to press the issue further but didn’t see the point. The last thing she needed was for McGrath to be pissed at her. The pressure was already on and it was far too early in the day to be dealing with a disgruntled boss.

She gave a curt little nod and took her leave. Still, as she walked toward the elevators, she pulled out her phone. It was too early to call Ellington so she opted for a text.

Just checking in, she typed. Call or text when you can.

She sent the text as she stepped into the elevator. She rode down to the garage where her car was waiting. Outside, the morning was still dark – the kind of thick darkness that seemed capable of hiding any secrets it wanted.