Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
SERIOUS TROUBLE
As soon as I exit MacKenzie’s room, Hank Flynn is waiting for me. He’s holding a plastic bag in his left hand and a small notebook in his right.
“Sam? Can I speak to you in private?”
“Of course. Let me get Lauren. MacKenzie wants her.”
Once I bring the girls together, I hesitate at her doorway long enough to hear both women crying.
God, what the hell? How could this happen to MacKenzie?
I head out of the ER and outside to meet Hank.
He gestures for me to follow him until we’re far enough away to avoid being heard.
He turns to me and begins talking. He sets the bag down on the ground and pulls a pen out of his breast pocket.
“What we discuss here is confidential. You’re an ex-cop”—I was an FBI agent for a long while—“you know how investigations work. This can’t go beyond this point—for now, anyway. ”
I nod waiting.
“Bobby Robinson didn’t do this.”
“I know.” I believe MacKenzie. “He saved her life.”
“That’s the way she tells it. I just spoke to Kent.
He questioned Bobby, who gave the same account of the attack and a similar description of the perp that she did, although Bobby said he looked like a zombie.
The assailant was a white male in his thirties, snow-white hair and pallid complexion.
MacKenzie also mentioned ice-blue eyes. That’s something Bobby didn’t seem to notice. ”
I put my hands on my hips and look down at the ground. “Who was this guy? What do you know?” He looks hesitant, but I persist. “Tell me.”
“Bobby said some other things that make sense. But it’s concerning. She could still be in danger.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Hank?”
“Bobby told us he’d seen the guy before.”
I stand completely still. My jaw clenches, but I remain silent. I want him to keep going. “And?”
“Apparently, Bobby has a thing for your girl.”
“No shit,” I growl.
“So he keeps an eye on her. Follows her home, watches her place, shit like that.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Not unlike someone else I know,” he says, arching his brow.
I look up at him and see him smile. “Yeah, but I’m not a creep.” Flynn’s left eyebrow shoots up again. Skeptical. “All right,” I say resignedly. “Point taken. Keep going.”
“According to Bobby Robinson, the guy has been in her place. He’s the one who spray-painted her house.”
“And Bobby saw all of this?”
“He claims he did. He says the guy was in a hooded sweatshirt, so he only got glimpses of him. But he talked about the white hair and said he looked like a zombie, like I said.”
“A zombie? Who is this guy?”
“Here’s the most worrisome part. You know about the other three victims found in Chicago parks recently?
All the women were about MacKenzie’s age, and they all resemble each other as well—same hair color, same body type.
The other thing that’s troubling is that all four victims work in stores or shops in the River North area.
Eyewitness accounts have mentioned a man in a hooded sweatshirt lurking around the victims’ homes and apartments.
One witness said he thought the guy had light hair. ”
“So, you’re saying that MacKenzie was almost the fourth victim of a fucking serial killer?” I shout because, damn it, that pisses me off and scares the shit out of me at the same time.
“That shouldn’t come as a complete surprise. We talked about this possibility after her break-in.”
“Yeah, but a serial killer?” I repeat. “That’s seriously screwed up, Hank.”
“The other part of this, you know. We suspected something at her place after the break-in; the other victims had similar incidents, but they hadn’t called the police since nothing was stolen. Nothing that they knew of, anyway.”
“Why would he take the medals?”
“We’re not sure. That wasn’t the same MO as the other victims. And, as you know, there weren’t any prints on the medals.”
After I’d found the medals, I placed them, with gloved hands, into a plastic bag and taken them to Hank. They photographed and fingerprinted everything, but they’d been wiped clean. They only came up with the prints from the pawnshop owner. Not even MacKenzie’s prints remained.
“So we can’t get anything on those, but we’ve got a judge to sign off on a warrant for the surveillance tapes at that pawnshop. We should have those this week.”
“What about the towel? Can’t you get DNA from that?”
“It wasn’t bodily fluid. It was some kind of hair product.”
“Why would he do that? That’s fucked-up.” Not like jacking off into someone’s towel isn’t disgusting enough.
“To toy with her. Possibly to scare her, but he did something like that to each victim. At least according to their friends. Like I said, none of the first three vics called in a break-in, unfortunately.”
“So MacKenzie’s in danger. You think this guy will try to get at her again.”
“Difficult to say, but I would err on the side of caution. I wouldn’t let her go back to her place just yet.”
“The hell with that. She’s never going back to that hellhole neighborhood.”
“Really? You making this permanent—puttin’ a ring on it?” Flynn smirks.
“Maybe.” Am I putting a ring on it? “Possibly.”
Hank Flynn chuckles and slaps me on the back. “I’ll be back later. We’ll talk more then. I need to brief the captain.”
“Before you go”—I point at the plastic bag at his feet. I know what’s in there; I just need confirmation—“what’s in the bag?”
“MacKenzie’s clothes.”
“Her coat?”
“Yeah. Why?”
I know what happens to clothing when the crime scene investigators get ahold of it. They’ll cut out sections for DNA testing, but I have to ask, “Can I have that coat when you’re finished doing whatever to it? It means a lot to MacKenzie. It was her grandfather’s coat.”
“It’ll be fucked-up after they do their thing,” he says warningly.
“I know. Well aware.”
“We’ll have it a while, but I’ll let you know when we’re finished up with it.”
We shake hands. “Oh, before I forget. Text me as soon as you release Bobby. MacKenzie is upset about him. She’s not gonna rest until he’s released.”
“I know. I’ve already got a call in to the captain. I should know within the hour.”
“Great. Thanks, Hank.” I walk back into the hospital. I make my way back to MacKenzie’s small room and see Lauren just outside sending a text on her phone. “She’s going to be okay, Lauren. They’re going to keep her overnight.”
“I heard. I can’t believe someone did this to her.”
“I know. It’s a little surreal to think someone could hurt our MacKenzie like that.”
“Our MacKenzie?”
“Yes. Our MacKenzie. Yours and mine.”
“You claiming her like some alpha biker dude?”
“Yes.”
She looks a little startled by my affirmative response. “You mean it?” She has the look of a mama bear watching out for her cub.
“I do. I can’t explain it, but yes, I mean it. I think she’s the person I’ve been waiting for—I’ve never felt this way about another person in my life.”
“And it’s not just the fact she’s a damsel in distress right now?”
“No. Yes, I feel a particular responsibility for her right now, but no, I felt that way last week. I was physically ill being away from her. Something that was entirely my own doing.”
“If it makes you feel any better, she was overwhelmed, too. She needed a little break; just not one like you forced upon her.”
“Good to know.” I don’t like hearing that she wanted a break from me, but I’ll have to get over it. Right now, I need to close ranks and protect my girl. “I’m going to run home to shower and change. I’ll be back in less than an hour. Will you let her know?”
“Will do. Bye, Sam.”