Before he Kills (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

what they had found on Hailey Lizbrook. The briefing on the murder
said nothing about numbers being found on the pole, though.
    The second maybe-related file concerned
a nineteen-year-old girl that had been reported as kidnapped when she did not
return home for Christmas break from her freshman year at the University of
Nebraska in 2009. When her body was discovered in an empty field three months
later, partially buried, there had been lashes on her back. Images were later
leaked to the press, showing the young girl nude and engaged in some sort of
lurid sex party at a fraternity house. The pictures had been taken one week
before she had been reported missing.
    The last case was a bit of a stretch,
but Mackenzie thought they could both potentially be linked to the ’87 murder
and Hailey Lizbrook.
    “What you got there?” Porter asked.
    “Nancy sent me briefs from some other
cases that might be linked.”
    “Anything good?”
    She hesitated but then filled him in on
the two potential links. When she was done, Porter nodded his head as he stared
out into the night. They passed a sign telling them that Omaha was twenty-two
miles ahead.
    “I think you try too hard sometimes,”
Porter said. “You bust your ass and a lot of people have taken notice. But
let’s be honest: no matter how hard you try, not every case has some huge link
that is going to create some monster case for you.”
    “So humor me,” Mackenzie said. “At this
very moment, what does your gut tell you about this case? What are we dealing
with?”
    “It’s just some basic perp with mommy
issues,” Porter said dismissively. “We talk to enough people, we find him. All
this analysis is a waste of time. You don’t find people by getting into their
head. You find them by asking questions. Street work. Door to door. Witness to
witness.”
    As they fell into silence, Mackenzie
started to worry about just how simplistic his view of the world was, how black
and white. It left no room for nuance, for anything outside of his
predetermined beliefs. She thought the psycho they were dealing with was far
too sophisticated for that.
    “What’s your take on our killer?”
he finally asked.
    She could detect resentment in his
voice, as if he really hadn’t wanted to ask her but the silence had got the
best of him.
     “I think he hates women for what they
represent,” she said softly, working it out in her mind as she spoke. “Maybe
he’s a fifty-year-old virgin who thinks sex is gross—and yet there’s also that need in him for sex. Killing women makes him feel like he’s conquering his own
instincts, instincts he sees as gross and inhuman. If he can eliminate the
source of where those sexual urges come from, he feels in control. The lashes
on the back indicate that he’s almost punishing them, probably for their
provocative nature. Then there’s the fact that there are no signs of sexual
abuse. It makes me wonder if this is some sort of attempt at purity in the
killer’s eyes.”
    Porter shook his head, almost like some
disappointed parent.
    “That’s what I’m talking about,” he
said. “A waste of time. You’ve got yourself so far into this you don’t even
know what you think anymore—and none of that is gonna help us. You can’t see
the forest for the trees.”
    The awkward silence blanketed them
again. Apparently done speaking, Porter turned the radio up.
    It lasted only a few minutes, though. As
they neared Omaha, Porter turned the radio back down without being prompted
this time. Porter spoke up and when he did, he sounded nervous, but Mackenzie
could also hear the effort he was putting forth to sound like he was the one in
charge.
     “You ever interviewed kids after they
lost a parent?” Porter asked.
    “Once,” she said. “After a drive-by. An
eleven-year-old boy.”
    “I’ve had a few, too. It’s not fun.”
    “No, it’s not,” Mackenzie agreed.
    “Well look, we’re about to ask two boys
questions about their dead mom.