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

tears again. As for Kevin, he
rolled his eyes while looking directly at Porter.
    “No,” he said. “We’re not stupid. We
know what you’re trying to ask us. You want to know if we can think of anyone
that might have killed our mom. Right?”
    Porter looked as if he had been punched
in the gut. He glanced nervously over to Mackenzie but managed to get his
composure back fairly quickly.
    “Well, yes,” he said. “That’s what I’m
getting at. But it seems clear that you don’t have any information.”
    “You think?” Kevin said.
    There was a tense moment where Mackenzie
was certain that Porter was going to get harsh with the kid. Kevin was looking
at Porter with pain in his expression, almost daring Porter to keep at him.
    “Well,” Porter said, “I think I’ve
bothered you boys enough. Thanks for your time.”
    “Hold on,” Mackenzie said, the objection
coming out of her mouth before she was able to think about stopping it.
    Porter gave her a look that could have
melted wax. It was clear that he felt they were wasting their time talking to
these two grief-stricken sons—especially a fifteen-year-old that clearly had
issues with authority. Mackenzie shrugged his expression off and knelt down to
Dalton’s eye level.
    “Listen, do you think you could go hang
out in the kitchen with your aunt for a second?”
    “Yeah,” Dalton said, his voice ragged
and soft.
    “Detective Porter, why don’t you go with
him?”
    Again, Porter’s gaze toward her was
filled with hate. Mackenzie stared right back at him, unflinching. She set her
face until it felt like stone and was determined to stand her ground on this
one. If he wanted to argue, she’d take it outside. But it was clear that even
in a situation with two kids and a nearly catatonic woman, he didn’t want to be
embarrassed.
    “Of course,” he finally said through
gritted teeth.
    Mackenzie waited a moment as Porter and
Dalton walked into the kitchen.
    Mackenzie stood back up. She knew that
around the age of twelve or so, the tactic of getting down at eye level with
kids stopped working.
    She looked at Kevin and saw that the
defiance he had showed Porter was still there. Mackenzie had nothing against
teenagers, but she did know that they were often difficult to work
with—especially in the midst of tragic circumstances. But she’d seen how Kevin
had responded to Porter and thought she might know how to get through to him.
    “Level with me, Kevin,” she said. “Do
you feel like we showed up too soon? Do you think we’re being inconsiderate by
asking questions so soon after you received the news about your mom?”
    “Sort of,” he said.
    “Do you just not feel like talking right
now?”
    “No, I’m fine with talking,” Kevin said.
“But that guy is a dick.”
    Mackenzie knew this was her chance. She
could take a professional, formal approach, as she normally would—or she could
use this opportunity to establish a rapport with an angry teenage boy.
Teenagers, she knew, above all, cherished honesty. They could see through
anything when driven by emotion.
    “You’re right,” she said. “He is a
dick.”
    Kevin stared back at her, wide-eyed. She
had stunned him; clearly, he had not expected that response.
    “But that doesn’t change the fact that I
have to work with him,” she added, her voice layered with sympathy and
understanding. “It also doesn’t change the fact that we’re here to help you. We
want to find whoever did this to your mother. Don’t you?”
    He was silent for a long time; then,
finally, he nodded back.
    “Do you think you could talk to me,
then?” Mackenzie asked. “Just a few quick questions and then we’ll get out of
here.”
    “And who comes after that?” Kevin asked,
guarded.
    “Honestly?”
    Kevin nodded and she saw that he was
close to tears. She wondered if he’d been holding them back this entire time,
trying to be strong for his brother and his aunt.
    “Well, after we leave, we’ll call in