Justice for Mackenzie (5 page)

TJ nodded. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But I definitely want a report tomorrow.”

“You know I don’t do that shit.”

“I didn’t mean a blow-by-blow, but give me somethin’!”

Dax finally grinned at his friend. “All right, I’ll let you know how it goes.”

TJ shook his head and slapped his friend on the back as they walked out of the diner after finishing lunch. “I hope it works out for you, Dax. Lord knows with the shit you deal with on a daily basis, you deserve it.”

“Thanks, man, you’ll find a woman for you too. I know it.”

TJ shrugged his shoulders. “If it happens, it happens. I’m not worried.”

Dax climbed into his government-issued vehicle and pulled out of the crowded parking lot. He had one hell of a meeting to get through this afternoon before he could even think more about his date tonight. The Lone Star Reaper, as the press had dubbed him, had struck again.

A sixth body had been found recently and the Rangers still had no reliable leads. They’d called in the FBI, and the lead agent, who happened to be Cruz Livingston, had called a meeting to discuss the particulars of the case. Dax pulled into the parking lot of the San Antonio Police Department, where the meeting was going to take place. Dax was glad Cruz was on the case. It’d be nice to have an officer he knew, trusted, and respected helping him try to figure out what was going on and hopefully they’d close down the case before the fucker killed another innocent woman.

Dax strode into the building and told the receptionist he was there for a meeting with Lieutenant Quint Axton and Agent Livingston. Dax was shown into a room where Cruz and Quint were already waiting.

“Dax.” Quint nodded at him as he entered. “Thanks for coming down. This shit has gotten way out of control.”

Dax nodded in agreement. “Cruz and I have had a few conversations already, and we’re glad to bring you into the fold. What do you have on the newest case?”

Quint settled back into his seat and shuffled the file filled with pictures and reports in front of him. Finally he found the pictures he was looking for and, with a flick of his wrist, sent them across the table to Dax.

“Same as the others. A call was received with the details on where to find her. Untraceable and short. Voice was unrecognizable because he used one of those voice-altering devices. She was found in a wooden box, buried about five feet underground at the edge of another rural graveyard. Guy’s smart, I’ll give him that. No one would question a coffin being buried in a cemetery, for Christ’s sake.”

Dax looked down at the pictures he was holding. The first was of the disturbed ground at a cemetery. The next was after the ground had been dug up with a backhoe, the coffin visible. The third was of the coffin sitting on the ground next to the hole, its lid pried open. The woman inside was in the beginning stages of decomposition. She hadn’t been in there for too long. Dax could see her long blonde hair and the clothes she was wearing were still in good shape. Just as with the other victims, it didn’t look—at first glance, at least—as if she’d been raped before being put inside the box. She was completely dressed, her clothes were on straight, and she had no visible marks on her body. She was covered in dirt and the fingernails on her hands had bled profusely. She’d obviously tried with every breath left in her to claw her way out of the crude wooden box she’d been entombed inside.

Dax shuffled to the next photos. They’d been taken off-scene: the inside lid of the box had claw marks on it, showing how desperately the woman had fought for her life, the inside of the coffin, the picture taken after the woman’s body had been removed, showing body-fluid stains and an empty water bottle. Dax swore and looked up. He hadn’t noticed it in pictures
of
the killer’s other crime scenes.

“He put a bottle of water in with this one?”

The FBI agent nodded grimly.

Dax ground his teeth together. The Reaper was getting more sadistic as time went by. He wanted to provide some “comfort” to his victims, even though he knew they’d never get out alive. It was a complete mind-fuck on the part of the Lone Star Reaper. Dax quickly finished looking through the rest of the pictures.

The hole in the ground, tire tracks in the soft grass, the victim lying on the coroner’s table. Dax paused. She’d been pretty. She was slender and had a small tattoo over her left breast, some sort of oriental writing. There was a close-up picture of her hands; her nails had been ripped off in her struggles. Dax put the pictures aside and picked up the medical examiner’s report.

Dax was impressed with Calder Stonewall’s work. He was thorough and impartial. He’d seen some horrible things, but his reports were easily understood, factual, and to the point.

Calder’s report said the woman had been killed by asphyxiation; basically she’d run out of air. Her pupils were fixed and dilated. Dax couldn’t think of a more horrifying way to die than to be buried alive.

He turned to his friends. “Anything new this time…besides the water?”

“Nothing with the evidence, or the way he disposed of the body, but he
did
send a note this time.” Agent Livingston held up a piece of paper. “He sent it directly to the SAPD. Quint opened it and immediately bagged it. The original is being analyzed as we speak for fingerprints and whatever else they can get off of it.”

Dax reached for the note, but Cruz held it out of his reach. “He’s making it personal, Dax. You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t like anything this asshole does, Cruz. Let me see it.”

Cruz handed over the piece of paper as he waited for Dax to read it.

By now youve found my latest prezent. I hope you like it. Im impressed you brought in both the FBI and the Rangers. I must be doing something right. Im watching you. Agent Livingston, Ranger Chambers and Officer Axton. Your in my sights. You better hold tight to your loved ones.

“You have
got
to be shitting me.” The words came out of Dax’s mouth without thought. “This fucker is threatening us? How in the hell did he get our names?”

“Hell, Dax, you know the papers are all over this shit. They don’t give a damn about protecting our identities.” Quint’s statement was matter of fact.

“Dammit!” Dax didn’t have any words. He knew his job was intense, but he never wanted to bring danger to any of his friends in the process. All he’d ever wanted to do was get into the elite Texas Rangers. There were only about a hundred and fifty Rangers in the entire state. There were a ton of specific qualifications an officer had to have to even be able to
apply
for one of the coveted positions. Dax had worked his butt off and loved what he did, but this…this was something he had no experience with.

“Okay, so this guy knows us. Fine. What’s our next step?”

“We find out if there are prints or anything else we can go off of on the note. The crime scene guys are examining the coffin. We’re interviewing anyone who might have seen anything in the cemetery over the last week and we’re telling the public to be alert and careful.
We
also need to be careful. I know none of us are dating anyone, but we need to be sure to alert our families to be extra vigilant until this guy is caught.”

“Fuck.” Dax knew it wasn’t enough. They all knew it was only a matter of time before he kidnapped some other unsuspecting woman and did it again.

Dax thought about Mackenzie. For a split second he considered calling off their date. If the killer was serious about targeting their loved ones, he could easily misinterpret a dinner date and target Mackenzie. Dax dismissed the thought almost as soon as he had it. It was just a date. And he wasn’t willing to give up getting to know Mackenzie for a threat that was most likely bogus anyway.

“I’m going on TV tonight to update the public on what we know. We’re hoping someone saw or knows something and will call us.”

“We’re not going to catch this guy with a few random tips, Quint, and you know it,” Dax said quietly, frustration lacing every word.

“I know, but we literally have nothing else.”

Cruz spoke up. “The FBI has a profiler going over the details and will share a profile tonight. It should hopefully generate some new leads.
Someone
knows this guy.”

Dax just nodded his head, lips pursed together tightly. This was the part of his job he hated. He hated waiting for a serial killer to strike once more. Most of the time the only way they could get new evidence was for him to kill again, and that sucked.

“That’s all we got for now. I just wanted to bring you up to speed,” Cruz told Dax softly.

“What was her name?”

Knowing whose name Dax was asking for, Cruz said evenly. “Sally Mason. Married with two kids. Twenty-six years old.”

Dax shook his head sadly. Such a fucking waste.

“Go home, Dax. We’ll be in touch if we hear anything else. You’re off for a few days, right?”

Dax nodded. “Yeah. I’ve worked a ton of overtime lately, so the Major ordered me not to show my face in the office again until next Tuesday.”

“Lucky dog.” Quint’s words were heartfelt.

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t call me the second you hear anything new on this asshole,” Dax warned.

“Ten-four. No worries. I’ve got you on speed dial.”

Dax nodded at Quint and Cruz. “We have to catch this motherfucker.”

“We will.”

Dax stood, gave each man a chin lift, and walked out the door. He had three hours to get into a better frame of mind before he picked up Mackenzie for their date.

* * *

Mackenzie paced her little living room nervously. She’d decided that morning she must’ve been under the influence of some drug last night when she’d agreed to this date. Hell, she didn’t really even
know
this guy, had only seen him once…why in the hell had she agreed to go out to dinner with him? It was absolutely crazy.

Laine had been ecstatic for her, and threatened bodily harm if she even
thought
about calling it off, but Mackenzie was still nervous as hell about it.

She’d picked up the phone to call Daxton to tell him she’d changed her mind and realized she didn’t even have his number. He’d called her yesterday from a blocked number. Mackenzie had thought about bailing and going somewhere outside of her apartment until way after six so she wasn’t home when Daxton got there, but she couldn’t. That would be really rude, and she hated to be rude. Besides which, she’d never hear the end of it from Laine if she did something so cowardly.

So here she was, going on a date with a man she didn’t know, had only lusted after, and seen briefly through tears in the rear-view mirror of her car and at the charity benefit event and who knew way more about her than she knew about him. Crazy.

Mackenzie rubbed her hands on her thighs, trying to calm herself down. She could do this. It was just a date. That’s all. Dinner. If she could keep from dropping or spilling anything on herself, or Daxton, she’d be fine. He’d see she wasn’t anything special and bring her home and she’d never see him again. No problem.

Mackenzie was wearing a faded pair of jeans with a pair of black flip-flops with a small heel. She’d always loved them, even if her feet usually hurt by the end of the day. She wasn’t used to wearing heels at all, but she figured she’d need every inch of the two inches in height they gave her.

Her shirt was a basic black short-sleeved pullover with a scoop neck. Nothing fancy, and she’d purposely chosen black so if she did drool on herself, which was likely with her track record, it wouldn’t show as easily. The shirt did show off her breasts though. Her chest was one of her best assets, and she hadn’t met a man yet who could resist checking it out.

Mackenzie had pulled her hair back in a twist and secured it to the back of her head with a barrette. She knew by the end of the night it’d probably mostly be falling out, but for now she thought it looked okay.

She continued to pace until her doorbell rang. Mackenzie looked at her watch. Dang, he was right on time. He was one of
those
people. Mackenzie couldn’t manage to be on time if her life depended on it…although today was apparently an exception. She’d been ready for half an hour, a record for her.

Mackenzie walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. Damn. The man standing there was so good-looking, she felt a zing shoot through her body, ending between her legs. She’d gotten the same reaction the night of the charity event. He was looking directly at the peephole, as if he knew she was on the other side looking at him. Mackenzie took a deep breath and opened the door until the chain stopped it from opening any farther.

“Daxton?”

“Yup. That’s me.”

Mackenzie shoved her hand through the small opening of the door and said, “ID please.”

Dax chuckled, not offended in the least. “Good girl.” He reached behind him, took his wallet out from his pocket, pulled out his driver’s license and put it into Mackenzie’s outstretched hand. “There you go.”

Mackenzie looked down at the plastic card in her hand. Daxton Chambers. Forty-six years old. Six feet one and two hundred thirty pounds. She gulped. Damn, almost a hundred pounds heavier than she was. She went to hand it back and dropped it.

“Shit, sorry.”

Dax just laughed quietly and kneeled down to pick up the license. “No problem.”

Mackenzie held out her hand again. “Ranger ID now, please.”

Dax smiled even more broadly. “Damn, woman.”

Mackenzie faltered a bit, but bravely said, “IDs are easy to fake nowadays, I just want to make sure.”

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining. No fucking way. I’m pleased as hell you don’t trust me. I’d be more worried if you did. Good thinking. Here you go.” Dax held out his Texas Ranger badge that he’d pulled from his other pocket. “I don’t go anywhere without it, just in case.” She took it from his hand and Dax could see her hands shaking.

“If it’s okay…I’ll just—” Mackenzie gestured back inside her apartment.

“Take your time, Mackenzie. I’ll be right here.”

Mackenzie shut and locked her apartment door and quickly walked over to her phone. She snapped a picture of Daxton’s Ranger badge and texted it to Matthew, Mark, and Laine. Laine knew she was going out with Daxton, but she wanted to inform her brothers as well. She told them she was going to dinner with Daxton, who was a Texas Ranger, and she’d be back later. She trusted Daxton was who he said he was, but she wanted her brothers to know who it was she was going out with and what time she expected to be home. Even though she was thirty-seven years old, she wanted to be safe. She’d call Laine after the date. It was their ritual whenever one of them went out.