It was 1:35 when they reached the landfill. The eighty-five-degree weather enhanced the stink of the place, and the flies were so loud it was like some bizarre music. Mackenzie had driven while Bryers sat in the passenger seat, filling her in on the details of the case.
By the time they stepped out of the car and approached the dumps, Mackenzie thought she had Bryers pegged. He was, for the most part, a by-the-books sort of man. He would not come out and say as much, but he was extremely nervous about having her ride along with him, even if those in the know had approved it with blind eyes. It was evident in his posture and the fleeting glances he gave her.
Mackenzie walked slowly while Bryers approached the large green bins. He walked toward them as if he worked there. She had to remind herself that he'd been to the scene once before. He knew what to expect, making her feel very much like a novice-which she was, actually.
She took a moment to really study the place, having never taken the time to study landfills before. The area she and Bryers currently stood in-the portion of the landfill that allowed traffic-was really nothing more than a dump. Six economy-sized metal dumpsters lined the place, all set within a hollow space within the grounds. Behind the dumps, she could see the area below where state trucks came to pick up the haul. To allow for these hollow areas that hid most of the dumpsters, the paved entryway and lot took on the shape of a well-maintained hill; the area she and Bryers currently stood on was the summit while the road through the landfill led further back, wound around, and spit cars out behind the dumpsters into a road that led back out to the highway.
Mackenzie scanned the ground. Where she stood was nothing more than packed dirt that gave way to gravel and then tar around the other side of the bins. She was standing on the dirt portion and looking down to the tire tracks that were embedded like ghost prints along the ground. The criss-crossing and jumbled passage of countless tire tracks was going to make it very hard to identify a reliable print. It had been dry and hot lately; the last rainfall had been about a week ago and that had only been a drizzle. Dry ground was going to make this significantly harder.
Feeling that getting suitable prints out of the mess was going to be next to impossible, she joined Bryers by the dump he was standing by.
"The body was found in this one," Bryers said. "Forensics already lifted the blood samples and took the prints. The victim's name was Susan Kellerman, twenty-two years old, a resident of Georgetown."
Mackenzie nodded, still saying nothing. She shifted her priorities as she looked into the dump. She was working with people from the FBI now so she felt comfortable skipping ahead a few steps. She wouldn't waste her time looking for the obvious. Those that had come before her-probably including Bryers-had already done the legwork. Therefore, Mackenzie tried to focus on the obscure…on the things that might have been overlooked.
After about a minute of looking around the immediate area, Mackenzie thought she knew everything there was to know. And so far, it wasn't much.
"So tell me," Bryers said. "If you had to guess, what's the significance of the killer dumping his bodies here?"
"I don't think it's a matter of convenience," Mackenzie said. "I think he's trying to play it safe. He's discarding the bodies here because he wants to get rid of them. I'd also guess he lives nearby…no more than twenty or thirty miles. I don't think he'd drive that far off just to dispose of a body…especially at night."
"Why at night?" Bryers asked.
Mackenzie knew that he was testing her and didn't mind. Given the amazing opportunity she had been handed, she expected some ribbing.
"Because he'd almost have to come during the night to dump a body. Doing it in the light of day while there are workers here would be stupid."
"So you think he's smart?"
"Not necessarily. He's cautious and careful. And that's not the same as smart."
"I saw you scouring for tracks," he said. "We tried and there was nothing. There are just too many."
"Yeah, it would be difficult," she said. "Of course, like I said, I'd assume the body was dumped after hours. Is that the assumption you're going on?"
"It is."
"So there would be no prints here," Mackenzie pointed out.
He smiled at her. "That's right," he said. "No tire tracks anyway. But footprints would. Not that it matters. There are too many of those, too."
Mackenzie nodded, feeling stupid for having missed such an obvious fact. But right away, that sent her mind down a different path.
"Well, it's not like he carried the body over his shoulders," Mackenzie said. "His tire tracks would be somewhere. Not here, but maybe just outside of the gate. We could then try to compare and contrast between tracks we find stopped outside the gate and tracks here in this dirt. We could even look right around the edge of the fence for any indication of impact from where he almost certainly threw or dropped the body over."
"That's good thinking," Bryers said, clearly amused. "That's a detail the guys from the print lab got, but I managed to overlook. But yes, you're right. He would have had to stop his car outside of the gate. So the thinking is that if we find tracks that come to the gate, stop, then turn around, that could be our guy."
"Could be," Mackenzie said.
"So you're thinking along the right lines, but there's nothing new. What else you got?"
He wasn't being rude or dismissive; she knew this from his tone alone. He was simply trying to urge her on, to motivate her to keep going.
"Do we know how many vehicles come through here on any given day?"
"Approximately eleven hundred or so," Bryers said. "Still, if we can get prints that come close to the gate and then just stop…"
"It could be a start."
"That's the hope," Bryers said. "We've had a team working on that since yesterday afternoon and we still don't have any leads."
"I can take a look if you'd like," Mackenzie said.
"Knock yourself out," Bryers said. "But you're working with the Bureau now, Ms. White. Don't overwork yourself if there's another department that can handle it better than you can."
Mackenzie looked back into the dumpster, trying to make sense of the crushed shapes of trash inside. A young woman had been there recently, her body nude and slightly beaten. She'd been discarded in the same place people dumped their refuse, the things they no longer needed. Maybe the killer was trying to speculate that the women he had killed were no better than common household trash.
She almost wished she had been here when Bryers and his soon-to-be-retired friend had come out. Maybe then she'd have more to go on. Maybe then she could help lead Bryers closer to a suspect. But for now, at least she had proven herself rather quickly with her perceptions regarding the tire tracks.
She turned back around to him and saw that he was standing idly, peering back toward the gate. It was clear that he was giving her some time to process. She appreciated it, but again, it made her very aware just how much of a rookie she was.
She ventured down to the chain-link fence that surrounded the dump. She started at the gate where vehicles came through and worked her way to the left. She looked around the bottom edge of the fence for a few seconds before another thought hit her.
He'd have to climb the fence, she thought.
She then started investigating the fence. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Maybe stray dirt or fibers on the chain links. Anything she found would be a long shot, but it would be something.
It took less than two minutes before she came across something of interest. It was so infinitesimal that she almost ignored it completely. But as she stepped closer, she saw that it might be more helpful than she had originally thought.
About five feet off the ground and six feet to the left of the entry gate, a single strand of white fabric clung to one of the diamond shapes in the fence. The fabric itself might not yield any results but this at least gave them a great place to start dusting for fingerprints.
"Agent Bryers?" she said.
He came over slowly, as if he wasn't expecting much. As he got closer, she heard him make a hmmm sound as he looked at the piece of fabric.
"Great work, Ms. White," he said.
"Please, just Mackenzie," she said. "Mac, if you're feeling adventurous."
"What do you think it is?" he asked.
"Maybe nothing. Buy maybe a strand of clothing from someone that recently scaled the fence. The fabric may be useless, but it gives us a concentrated area to focus on for fingerprints."
"There's a small evidence kit in the trunk of the car. Can you retrieve it while I call this in?"
"Sure," she said, heading back to the car.
By the time she returned to him, he was already ending the call. Everything with Bryers seemed to be quick and efficient. It was one of the things she was quickly starting to like about him.
"Okay, Mac," he said. "Now let's continue down the trail you spelled out earlier today. The victim's husband lives about twenty minutes away from here. You up for it?"
"I am," Mackenzie said.
They got back into the car and pulled out of the still-closed-down landfill. Overhead, a series of scavenger birds performed their duty diligently, watching the drama unfold below with uncaring eyes.
***
Caleb Kellerman already had visitors in the form of two policemen when Mackenzie and Bryers arrived at his home. He lived just outside of Georgetown in a two-story house that made for a cute starter home. Thinking that the Kellermans had only been married for a little over a year before his bride had been killed made Mackenzie feel sorry for the man, but also angry about what had happened.
A starter home that never got a chance to see what else it could be, Mackenzie thought as they stepped into the house. How profoundly sad.
They entered through the front door, stepping into a thin foyer that looked directly into the living room. Mackenzie could feel the creeping sense of loneliness and quiet that accompanied most residences shortly after a death. She hoped she'd eventually get used to it, but found it hard to believe.
Bryers made introductions with the police outside of the foyer and the boys in uniform seemed relieved to be asked to step aside. When they made their exit, Bryers and Mackenzie stepped into the living room. Mackenzie saw that Caleb Kellerman looked incredibly young; he could easily pass for eighteen with his clean-shaven look, Five Finger Death Punch T-shirt, and baggy camo shorts. Mackenzie was able to quickly look past his appearance, focusing instead on the indescribable grief she saw in the young man's face.
He looked up to them, waiting for either of them to speak. Mackenzie noticed Bryers giving her the go-ahead, nodding subtly in Caleb Kellerman's direction. She stepped forward, both terrified and flattered that she was being given such authority. Either Bryers thought a lot of her, or he was trying to make her uncomfortable.
"Mr. Kellerman, I'm Agent White, and this is Agent Bryers." She hesitated there for a moment. Had she really just called herself Agent White? It sort of had a nice ring to it. She skipped past this and continued on. "I know you're dealing with a loss that I won't even pretend to be able to understand," she said. She kept her tone soft, warm, but firm. "But if we want to find the person that did this, we really need to ask you some questions. Are you up for it?"
Caleb Kellerman nodded. "Anything I can do to make sure the man that did this is found," he said. "I'll do anything."
There was rage in his voice that made Mackenzie hope that someone would seek some sort of therapy for Caleb in the coming days. There was something in his eyes that looked nearly unhinged.
"Well, first of all, I need to know if Susan had any enemies…anyone that might be a rival of sorts."
"There were a few girls she went to high school with that would get pissy with her on Facebook," Caleb said. "It was usually over politics, though. And none of those girls would do it, anyway. It was just nasty arguments and things like that."
"And what about her job?" Mackenzie asked. "Did she enjoy it?"
Caleb shrugged. He sat back on the couch and tried to relax. His face, however, seemed resigned to a permanent frown. "She liked it about as much as any woman that went to college and lands a job that has nothing to do with her degree. It paid the bills and the bonuses were pretty good sometimes. The hours sucked, though."
"Did you know any of the people she worked with?" Mackenzie asked.
"No. I heard about them in the stories she'd bring home, but that was it."
Bryers chimed in next. His voice sounded very different in the still of the house as he used somber tones. "She was a saleswoman, correct? For A Better You University?"
"Yeah. I already gave the police her supervisor's number."
"We've had some people from the Bureau already speak with him," Bryers said.
"It won't matter," Caleb said. "No one at work killed her. I can guarantee it. I know it sounds stupid, but it's this feeling I have. Everyone at her work is nice…in the same boat we were in, trying to pay bills and make ends meet. Honest people, you know?"
For a moment, he teetered on the edge of weeping. He stifled it back, looked down to the floor to collect himself, and looked back up. The tears that he had barely suppressed floated along the edges of his eyes.
"Okay, then what can you think of that might lead us down the right path?" Bryers asked.
"I can't," Caleb said. "She had a sell sheet of the clients she was visiting that day, but no one can find it. The cops said it's probably because the killer took it and trashed it."
"That's probably the case," Mackenzie said.
"I still don't get it," Caleb said. "It still doesn't feel real. I'm waiting for her to come back through that door any minute now. The day she died…it started out just like any other day. She kissed me on the cheek as I was getting dressed for work and said goodbye. She left for the bus stop, and that was it. That was the last time I saw her."
Mackenzie saw that Caleb was on the verge of losing it and, as much as it seemed wrong to do so, she got in one last question before he collapsed.
"Bus stop?" she asked.
"Yeah, she rode the bus to the office every day; she caught the eight twenty to get to work on time. The car crapped out on us two months ago."
"Where's that bus stop located?" Bryers asked.
"Two blocks down," Caleb said. "It's one of those small vestibule-type deals." He then looked at Mackenzie and White, hope suddenly blooming in his eyes under the pain and hatred. "Why? Do you think it's important?"
"There's no way to know for sure," Mackenzie said. "But we'll keep you posted. Thank you for your time."
"Sure," Caleb said. "Hey…guys?"
"Yeah?" Mackenzie said.
"It's been more than three days now, right? Three days since I last saw her and almost two whole days since they found her body."
"That's right," Bryers said quietly.
"So is it too late? Is this bastard going to get away?"
"No," Mackenzie said. It was out of her mouth before she could stop it and she knew right away that she had made her first mistake in front of Bryers.
"We'll do the best we can," Bryers said, placing a gentle but urging hand on Mackenzie's shoulder. "Please call us if you think of anything that might help."
With that, they made their exit. Mackenzie shuddered a bit when she heard Caleb break down in a sobbing fit before they were able to shut the door behind them.
That sound did something to her…something that reminded her of home. The last time she'd felt such a thing was the moment back in Nebraska when she had become absolutely consumed with the task of stopping the Scarecrow Killer. She felt that all-consuming need again as they stepped out onto Caleb Kellerman's front steps, and she slowly realized that she would stop at nothing until she caught this killer.