Justice for Mackenzie Read online

  Dax frowned. “When did she take the break?”

  Sandra looked down at her watch. “Probably about two hours ago, I guess.”

  Fuck. Two hours. Dax turned and strode quickly back to Mackenzie’s office. He rounded her desk and opened the drawer where he’d seen her stash her purse. It was there. He looked around her desk. Mack’s cell phone was sitting next to her keyboard. He wiggled the mouse, the monitor came to life, and Dax could see that Mackenzie had locked her computer, following proper office protocol. It looked as though she’d simply left her office for a quick break as she told Sandra she was going to do.

  Dax’s stomach churned. He tried to hold himself together. No, this wasn’t anything. Mackenzie knew to be careful. She was fine. Dax pocketed her cell phone and went back to Sandra’s desk.

  “Where would she go to take a break?”

  Sandra got up immediately. “Let me show you, it’ll be quicker.”

  Dax nodded and followed behind Sandra as she led the way down a hall into a small break room. It was at the end of the building. Dax looked around. There were three small tables in the area, each with four chairs. Against the wall were two soda machines and a snack machine. Against the wall perpendicular to the vending machines was a sink, cabinets, a water cooler filled with water, and a plastic bin filled with plastic forks and spoons and a handful of napkins. A trash can sat, half-filled, next to the sink. Nothing looked out of place.

  Dax stepped out of the room and looked around. To the right was a hallway leading to another room full of cubicles. To the left were two doors. He stepped to the first and opened it cautiously. It was a janitor’s closet. Inside was a bucket and a mop as well as a cleaning cart. The room was tidy and neat. Dax closed the door and walked to the other door.

  It opened to a stairwell.

  The uneasy feeling inside Dax bloomed until it filled his throat. While there was security in the lobby on the first floor of the building, Dax hadn’t been able to get 24/7 security for Mack. He’d been cocky, thinking he’d covered the main entrance and exit and she’d be fine. He’d been stupid. Dax turned to Sandra. “I need you to find me anyone who saw Mackenzie this afternoon. I need to know the last time anyone saw her and what they saw her doing.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sandra could obviously feel the waves of danger emanating from Daxton as he went into full Ranger mode. She turned around immediately to do as he’d asked.

  Dax took out his phone and swiped it on and hit Cruz’s name. As soon as Cruz picked up, Dax started talking.

  “He’s got Mack. I don’t know how yet, but dammit, Cruz. I need you.”

  “Where are you?” Cruz didn’t waste time asking how he knew Mackenzie had been taken. He got right to business.

  “I’m at her office. No one has seen her in a couple of hours. The secretary said Mack told her she was going to take a break. The break room is next to a set of stairs.”

  “I’m on my way. Don’t let anyone touch anything. If the Reaper did get to her, that place is now a crime scene.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Stay with me, Dax.”

  “That fucker has her.”

  “Dax.” Cruz said his name as a warning.

  Dax took a deep breath, knowing he had to keep his emotions in check. “I’m fine. Just get here.”

  “On my way.”

  The line went dead. Dax knew Cruz would call Quint and there’d be people crawling all over the office before too long. Knowing if he stopped to think too much, he’d lose it, Dax headed back to Sandra.

  She’d done what he’d asked her to do and there was a large crowd of people standing around her desk.

  One of the women spoke in a nasally voice. “Look, I’m sorry Mack skipped out on you, but my employees have work to do. They can’t just drop everything just because you told them to.”

  Knowing this was Mack’s boss he’d heard so much about, Dax said curtly, “Nancy, right?” At her nod, he continued in a pissed-off voice. “Mackenzie is missing. I’m very sorry if your first concern isn’t for her, but for work. Shit, woman, you work in a nonprofit organization that’s supposed to help people. Shut the hell up and help me help Mack. If you haven’t seen her, fine, get the fuck out and let me talk to everyone else. I’m sure after I talk to them, they can go back to doing the precious work that you take credit for. Now, can I continue, or do you want to keep antagonizing me when Mack could be suffering at the hands of a psycho serial killer?”

  The room was silent. No one said a word as they watched Nancy try to think of something to say to backtrack. Finally she said quietly, “Please continue,” and then she turned around, her hair swishing around her, and went back to her office, shutting the door behind her. Not stopping to think about how much Mack would’ve loved seeing her boss eat a slice of humble pie, Dax turned to the employees.

  “Listen, everyone. Please. First, don’t touch anything unnecessarily. Keep away from the break room. The FBI and the SAPD are on their way. I’m sure the officers will interview you, but please, think hard. When was the last time you saw Mackenzie today? Did anyone see anything that seemed out of place?”

  Dax watched as each of the employees shrugged and shook their head. From what he could gather, the last time anyone saw Mack was around a quarter past three that afternoon. It was now half past four.

  Two fucking hours. That bastard had had her for two hours. It was time enough for him to have her long gone from the area.

  The phone in Dax’s front pocket buzzed. It was Mackenzie’s cell, not his own.

  Dax pulled it out with clenched teeth, dread filling his gut. He swiped it, not needing the password to see the text that had just been sent. The three words seared themselves onto his brain and Dax couldn’t hold back a small whimper.

  Game on Ranger

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two o’clock AM

  Dax paced the small office in the Ranger Station, barely holding himself together. It was probably about eleven hours after the Reaper had kidnapped Mackenzie. Quint, Cruz, and TJ, as well as Hayden, who worked for the Bexar County Sheriff’s Office, were all there with him. Conor, a Game Warden and a member of the SCOUT team, had also heard about Mack’s disappearance and had shown up. Also present were about five other random employees of the FBI office and the SAPD. Papers were strewn over the large conference table, the voices were low and rumbled as the men and women frantically tried to find something, anything, that they might have missed that would lead them to the killer, and the man who’d kidnapped one of their own.

  Dax stopped in front of the large picture window overlooking the parking lot, putting his hands on the sill and leaned over, staring out into the night, but not seeing anything. The only thing he could picture was Mack’s smile. Scenes flitted through his mind as if he was watching a movie.

  Mack in bed smiling up at him. Mack in his car, holding his hand while gesturing wildly with the other as she rambled on about something. Mack in his shower. Mack at his kitchen table. Mack. Fuck.

  Dax jerked when TJ put his hand on his shoulder. He turned eagerly to his friend. “Got anything?”

  TJ just shook his head. “Nothing more than we had a few hours ago.”

  Dax turned back to the window. “I never thought I’d find the woman who was meant for me, TJ. I’d resigned myself to being alone. Mack came barreling into my life with her oddball charm and her quirky sense of humor and I haven’t been the same since. I’ve lost her.”

  “No! Don’t fucking say that, Dax. You haven’t lost her. Don’t give up now. For Christ’s sake, man, Mackenzie needs you. You can’t give up on her.”

  Dax turned in frustration and threw his hand out, indicating the table and all the people. “We’ve been at it for hours, and we have nothing. Nothing. How in the hell are we supposed to catch this guy when we don’t know jack shit about him? He’s been two steps ahead of us the entire time. It’s been around eleven hours, TJ. Eleven. Fucking. Hours. She could b
e buried five feet underground by now. We’ll never find her unless he wants to fuck with me.”

  TJ, for once, didn’t have any words of comfort for his friend. “Come on back to the table; let’s look over the cemeteries where the other women were found again, we have to be missing some sort of pattern.”

  TJ watched as Dax nodded and turned away again, but not before TJ saw a tear fall over Dax’s cheek. He squeezed his friend’s shoulder and went back to the table, leaving Dax to get control over his grief.

  Seven Thirty AM

  Dax stared bleary-eyed at the transcripts of tips sitting in front of him that had been called into the various law enforcement offices. The sun was peeking over the horizon, making for a beautiful sunrise. Dax could feel the heat on his face through the window, but didn’t bother looking up. He only cared about Mackenzie right now. Not eating, not sleeping, not a fucking sunrise.

  Quint and Cruz were snoring in the seats next to him. Quint had succumbed to sleep around four thirty and Cruz not much later. They were the only ones left in the big conference room at Ranger Company F. Dax knew his fellow Rangers would soon be arriving, and they’d put all their other cases on hold for him…for Mack…but his skin was crawling. He was on the verge of something, but he couldn’t quite grab ahold of it. It was there. He’d read something in the hundreds of pages of transcribed phone calls and tips they’d received after the FBI profilers had gone to the media and reported on the profile of the Lone Star Reaper.

  Dax flipped through the page and scanned the information he was seeing through blurry eyes. He needed coffee, but it’d have to wait. The feeling hadn’t started until recently, so he went back and looked at the latest couple of tips.

  My neighbor has to be the Lone Star Reaper, because he’s extra creepy. I wish he’d move.

  I’ve seen this guy at the grocery store and he seems to fit the profile the guy on television talked about. He’s middle age and he always buys olives. I mean cans and cans of olives. That’s crazy! I bet he’s the killer.

  I worked with a guy who just seemed off. We were the night custodians for this big building and even though we used cleansers all the time, his hands were always dirty. He didn’t socialize with any of the rest of us at all. It was weird.

  I’m afraid the Reaper could be my husband. He works late every weekend but gets texts at weird times and won’t let me see them. He smells like perfume too. I bet it’s those missing women’s perfume.

  Dax slammed the notebook shut and threw it across the table, watching as it came to rest on the other side, just shy of tumbling over the edge. He shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked under him as the chair rocked back with his body weight. He put the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed.

  People just didn’t get it. Mackenzie’s life was held in the palms of their hands, and they were reporting cheating husbands and creepy co-workers as the Reaper. It was maddening. Wait a minute…

  Dax suddenly shot forward in his chair, his hands hitting the top of the table with a loud smack, waking up both Cruz and Quint. Dax quickly leaned up out of his chair and across the table, snatching up the notebook he’d just thrown.

  “Oh my fucking God. That has to be a clue.”

  “What? Dax? What time is it?”

  Dax ignored Quint’s drowsy murmurings and frantically flipped back through the tips, trying to find the one he wanted.

  He stopped at the one he was looking for and flipped it over to Cruz. “Read that.”

  Cruz didn’t hesitate, and seemed to come awake immediately. He leaned over and read the tip Dax was referring to. He looked up. “Maybe.”

  Dax stood and started pacing again. “I know you think I’m desperate and am seeing clues where there might not be any. But this seems promising. He worked nights. He was a janitor. He had time to get to those women during the day when he wasn’t working. We need to go back through and see if we can’t match up the victims with this guy. And Mack. No one notices the cleaning crew in buildings. What if he was there yesterday? Mack is nice to everyone. She would’ve taken the time to talk to this guy, to try to befriend him. He could’ve done something and sneaked her out of the building by the stairs next to the break room. Hell, he probably has a van or something that wouldn’t seem out of place either.”

  Cruz pulled the tip sheet closer to him, thinking out loud. “His dirty hands could be because of the dirt and burying the boxes, and it matches the profile.” He stood up and took the notebook with him. “I’ll get the tipster on the line right away. We need to get more information. We need to know what this guy’s name is.”

  “Once you get the name, I’ll see if I can’t get the forensic team to research where he might have worked as well. It could lead to a pattern of where he got his victims from,” Quint added, standing up himself, all signs of being sleepy gone from his face. “It could take awhile, but I’ll see what I can do to get them to put a rush on it.”

  Dax took a deep breath before following his friends out of the room. It might be nothing, but it was more than they’d had an hour ago. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out Mack’s cell phone. He absently tapped the screen and glared down at the words, still showing on the opening screen. He knew Mack’s password, but couldn’t bring himself to use it.

  Game on Ranger

  The words sat on the screen, mocking Dax.

  What was the bastard waiting for? Why hadn’t he contacted him? Dax figured the Reaper knew where he was and probably had all of his own personal contact information as well. If he wanted to play a fucking game with Mack’s life, why hadn’t he started it already?

  Dax shoved the phone back into his pocket and strode out of the room behind his friends. He had some research to do. He’d catch this motherfucker if it was the last thing he ever did. If he killed Mackenzie, and at this point it was a likely ending to the whole fucked-up mess, Dax knew he’d make the Reaper pay. The Reaper would wish he hadn’t laid his eyes on Dax or Mackenzie.

  It wouldn’t bring her back, but it’d make Dax feel better…maybe.

  Ten o’clock AM

  Quint burst into Dax’s office holding a piece of paper. “Jordan Charles Staal. Age thirty-nine, never been married. Has a high school education. Was married for two years to a second cousin. She disappeared and her information is sitting in the cold-case files. What do you want to bet he killed her? We’re still working on finding out about his childhood, looking for signs of abuse or any kind of juvenile record.”

  Dax sat up straight in his chair and drilled Quint with his eyes. “Jobs?” he barked.

  Quint sat on the edge of the wooden chair in front of Dax’s desk and continued. “He’s held six different custodian jobs in the last eight years. All like the tipster said, third shift. We’re cross-referencing the victims now, but I recognize at least one of the buildings off the top of my head as where the fourth victim worked.” Quint looked up. “We’ve fucking got him, Dax.”

  “It seems too easy.”

  “Don’t think that. We’ll get him, and Mackenzie too.”

  Two o’clock PM

  The Ranger Special Response Team spread out around the ramshackle house in western San Antonio. The neighborhood looked as though it once used to be pretty, but now the houses mostly appeared abandoned and almost all needed some sort of major repair.

  Dax didn’t see any of that. He was fixated on the door in front of him. They’d tracked Staal’s address through his employment records and as soon as they’d gathered the SRT, they were on their way.

  Dax had agreed not to be at the forefront of the assault; he was too close to the case. He watched as the door was broken in and the team rushed into the house. He followed behind, gun drawn, hoping against hope they’d find Staal cowering in a back room and he’d tell them what he did with Mack.

  It was quickly clear that no one had lived in the house in a very long time. It smelled stale and there were cobwebs everywhere. Som
e kids had obviously broken in and partied in the house at one point, as there were beer cans strewn all over the floor.

  The address Staal had given his employers was false. No one was there. Not Staal, and not Mackenzie.

  Dax’s stomach churned. Mack wasn’t here and he had no idea where she was. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see Mack alive again. He’d promised he’d keep her safe and he’d let her down.

  Four Thirty PM

  Dax watched the news correspondent review the facts of the Reaper case dispassionately.

  And now an update to the killer the press has dubbed the Lone Star Reaper. It’s being reported that another woman is missing. Mackenzie Morgan, age thirty-seven, disappeared from her workplace yesterday afternoon. The San Antonio Police Department, the Texas Rangers and the FBI are working on a joint operation to follow any leads.

  We’ve been told they have a person of interest in the case. Jordan Charles Staal. If you have any information about Mr. Staal’s whereabouts, or if you have information that might lead to finding him so he can be questioned, please call the police department’s tip line at…

  Dax clicked off the television, not able to stomach the sight of Staal’s face. The third place the man had worked was able to provide them with his picture from the employee ID computer system. He truly was a creepy-looking man. He had black hair that was too long. His jaw was tight and he wasn’t smiling in the photo. There was a scar running along the right side of his face, from the corner of his mouth all the way up to disappear into his hairline.

  Dax closed his eyes. He was so tired, but didn’t know if he could sleep. He knew he couldn’t go back to his apartment. He’d see Mack’s stuff, see the indentation in the pillow where she’d last lain her head, he’d smell her perfume and soap in the bathroom, smell her vanilla scent all over his apartment. Nope, he’d have to see if he could catch a few hours of sleep here at his desk instead.