Before He Lapses

The transition had been easy enough. The hurrying and rushing for their flight and then having to catch a red-eye back to DC made the magic of their honeymoon slowly dissolve back into the boundaries of real life. Mackenzie was quite pleased to feel some of that magic still existing between them, primarily in realizing that even here, back in the States and surrounded by their jobs, they were still married. Iceland had been magical, sure, but it had not been the only thing bonding them over those few days.

What she had not been expecting was just how prominent her wedding ring felt on her finger as she and Ellington walked into McGrath’s office just fourteen hours after he had interrupted their honeymoon. She was not so naïve as to feel like it made her a new person, but she did see it as a sign that she had changed—that she was capable of growing. And if that was true in her personal life, then why not her professional life?

Maybe it will start once you tell your superior that you’re currently fifteen weeks pregnant, she thought.

With that thought lodged in her head, she also realized that the case they had been called in for would likely be the last one before she had to come clean about her pregnancy—though the thought of trying to track down murderers with a baby belly did make her grin.

“I appreciate you two coming in early on this,” McGrath said. “And I also want to congratulate you on your marriage. Of course, I don’t like the idea of a married couple working together. But I want this one wrapped up very quickly, as there could be the potential for mass panic on a college campus if we don’t get it wrapped very soon. And you two undeniably work well together, so here we are.”

Ellington looked over at her and smiled at the last comment. Mackenzie was nearly disarmed at how strongly she felt for him. It was a beautiful thing but also made her a bit uncomfortable as well.

“The latest victim is a sophomore at Queen Nash University in Baltimore. Christine Lynch. She was killed in her kitchen very late at night. Her shirt had been removed and was found on the floor. She was very obviously strangled. From what I understand, there were no prints on her neck, indicating the killer was wearing gloves.”

“So the murder was premeditated and not situational,” Mackenzie said.

McGrath nodded and slid over three photos of the crime scene. Christine Lynch was a very pretty blonde and in the pictures, her face was turned to the right. She was wearing makeup and, as McGrath had said, her shirt had been removed. She had a small tattoo on her shoulder. A sparrow, Mackenzie thought. The sparrow seemed to be looking up toward the area where the bruising around her neck started; the bruising on her neck was obvious even in the photos.

“The first,” McGrath said, opening up another folder, “was a twenty-one-year-old named Jo Haley. Also a Queen Nash student. She was found in her bedroom, in bed and completely naked. The body had been there for at least three days before her mother called to report suspicious activity. There were signs of strangulation but not quite as vicious as what we see on Christine Lynch. CSI found evidence of sexual activity just prior to her death, including an empty condom wrapper.”

He slid the crime scene photos over to them. There were more pictures of Jo Haley, primarily the bruising around her neck from where someone had apparently strangled her. She, like Christine Lynch, was fairly attractive. She was also very thin, almost to the point of being waifish.

“So the only real lead we have is that two pretty girls from Queen Nash have been killed, probably during or just prior to sex?” Mackenzie asked.

“Yes,” McGrath said. “Given the coroner’s estimated time of death for Jo Haley, they were killed no more than five days apart.”

“Do we have estimated times of the night they were killed?” Mackenzie asked.

“No. Nothing concrete, but we do know that Christine Lynch had been seen at her boyfriend’s apartment up until about one in the morning on Wednesday. Her body was discovered by her boyfriend the following day when he went to her apartment.”

Ellington studied the last of the pictures and slid them back to McGrath. “Sir, with all due respect, I’m a married man now. I can’t just go approaching pretty young women on college campuses anymore.”

McGrath rolled his eyes and looked at Mackenzie. “I wish you the best of luck with this,” he said, nodding toward Ellington. “In all seriousness…I want this wrapped as soon as possible. Winter break is over next week and I don’t want panic on campus as all of these students are returning from home.”

As if swapping personalities at the flip of a switch, Ellington became all business. “I’ll grab the case files and we’ll get started right away.”

“Thank you. And seriously…enjoy this case together. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you two to be working together now that you’re married. Consider this case my wedding gift to the two of you.”

“Really, sir,” Mackenzie said, unable to help herself, “I would have much preferred a coffee maker.”

She could barely believe it when the flicker of a smile spread across McGrath’s lips. He bit it back right away as Mackenzie and Ellington headed out of his office with their first case as husband and wife and, subsequently, their final case as a team.

CHAPTER FIVE

Per Mackenzie’s usual approach, they began with the scene of the most recent crime. It was the equivalent to looking over a warm body—the warm body much more prone to giving up clues or indications more so than a body that had been cold for a while. On the drive up to Maryland, Mackenzie had essentially read the case files out loud while Ellington drove.

When they arrived at Christine’s apartment in Baltimore, they were met by a deputy from the local police department. He was an older gentleman, probably on his last year or two with the force and given clean-up on cases like this one.

“Good to meet you,” he said, shaking their hands with the kind of good cheer that made him almost obnoxious. “Deputy Wheeler. I’ve been sort of overseeing this one.”

“Agents White and Ellington,” Mackenzie said, again realizing she still wasn’t quite sure how to address herself. It was not something she and Ellington had discussed yet, although their marriage certificate did refer to her as Mackenzie Ellington.

“What can you tell us from your perspective?” Ellington asked as they stepped into Christine Lynch’s apartment.

“Well, we got here, my partner and me, and met with the boyfriend and went in. She was right there, on the kitchen floor. Had her shirt off, laying on her side. Her eyes were still open. She was very clearly strangled and there were no signs of a struggle or anything like that.”

“It was snowing on the night it happened,” Ellington said. “Were there no wet footprints in the hallway?”

“No. From what we can gather, the boyfriend didn’t come in until the following afternoon. Anywhere between ten and sixteen hours could have passed between the last time he saw her and the moment she was killed.”

“So it was a clean scene, then?” Mackenzie asked.

“Yeah. No clues, no snowy or wet footprints. Nothing of any interest.”

Mackenzie thought back over what she had read in the case files—particularly of a rather personal note the coroner had added to the file no more than six hours ago. In preparing the body for examination, they had found evidence of sexual arousal when removing Christine’s underwear. This, of course, could have been the result of time spent with the boyfriend. But if she had been found here, with her shirt removed and in her kitchen…well, it pointed to the fact that maybe someone had met her here after she’d left her boyfriend’s apartment. And maybe they hadn’t wanted to take the time to make it to the bedroom.

“Did local PD ask to see security tapes?” Mackenzie asked. “I noticed at least two on the sides of the building when we were coming in.”

“We’ve got someone working on that right now,” Wheeler said. “Last I heard, which was about two hours ago, there’s nothing of note on the footage. You’re welcome to check it out for yourself, though.”

“We may take you up on that,” Mackenzie said as she left the kitchen and stepped into the living area.

Christine had lived a very neat life. Her small bookcase on the right side of the living room was neatly stacked and the titles, many of which were biographies and old political science textbooks, were alphabetized. There were a few pictures placed here and there on the two end tables and the walls. Most of them were of Christine and a woman who was clearly her mother.

She then moved to the bedroom and looked around. The bed was made and the rest of the room was just as proper as the living room. The few items that were displaced on her bedside table and desk revealed very little: pens, pocket change, an iPhone charger, a pamphlet for a local politician, a glass with just a swallow of water remaining in it. It was evident that nothing of a physical nature had occurred in this room on the night Christine had died.

It opened up many questions and conclusions, all of which Mackenzie sorted out in her head as she made her way back out into the kitchen.

Someone met her here when she returned from her boyfriend’s apartment. Was she expecting them or did they surprise her?

The fact that her body was discovered inside the apartment and her shirt was off likely means that, expected or a surprise, she invited the killer in. Did she invite him in having absolutely no idea that she was in danger?

When she got back into the kitchen, Ellington was taking down notes as he spoke to Deputy Wheeler. She and Ellington exchanged a look and a nod. It was one of the many ways they had learned to fall into sync with one another on the job—a non-verbal language that saved many interruptions and awkward moments.

“Well, Deputy Wheeler, I think we’re good here,” Ellington said. “By chance, were you also placed on the Jo Haley murder from a few days ago?”

“No. But I know enough about the case to help if you need it.”

“Great. We’ll call on you if it comes to that.”

Wheeler seemed pleased with this, smiling to them both as they left Christine Lynch’s apartment. Outside, Mackenzie looked to the sidewalk, where there were only sparse indications that it had snowed at all. She smiled thinly as she realized that she and Ellington had likely been about to get married when this poor girl had died.

Christine Lynch won’t ever have the privilege of a wedding or a husband, Mackenzie thought. It made her feel a pang of sorrow for the woman—a sorrow that deepened when she realized that there was another rite of womanhood that she would also never feel.

Wrapped in that sadness, Mackenzie placed a hand on her barely bulging stomach, as if protecting what was inside.

***

After a call to the bureau, Mackenzie and Ellington discovered that Christine’s boyfriend was a twenty-two-year-old fellow Queen Nash student. He worked part-time with a public health office to get his feet wet for whatever career awaited him after graduating with his public health degree. They found him not at work, but at his apartment, apparently having taken the loss of Christine much harder than a typical boyfriend.