LITMIR.BIZ

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or additional construction.

      She again went to her knees and leaned a bit out past the safety railings. She ran her hand along the little bit of exposed wood. It was old and brittle but quite hard. She compared the color and texture of the wood to the small piece that Burke had bagged and showed to her. Even with the glare of her cell phone, she could tell that it was the same.

      But if she jumped, how the hell did it get into her hair?

      She was pretty sure the picture of Malory’s palm answered that question.

      If the indention of one of those caps was on her palm, she didn’t jump. She was hanging from the bridge…maybe trying to save herself. And the wood chip in her hair…if she was hanging from this very spot, it’s not too hard to believe that this old wood might have flaked off into her hair as she tried to regain her grip.

      She ran her thumb over the five caps along the strut in front of her one by one. At the one second to the end, she felt a roughness to the cap’s ending. It was certainly rough enough to cause those paper-thin abrasions on Malory’s hand.

      With her heart in her chest, Mackenzie looked down over the rail. The rocks that had ultimately killed Malory Thomas and Kenny Skinner waited down there. Even from this height, she could see the discoloration where there had been blood less than twelve hours ago.

      I’m standing where they stood, Mackenzie thought. They were standing right here moments before they died.

      She then looked back to the picture of the indentation in Malory’s palm, and then back to the bolt caps. And then she corrected her thought: They were standing right here moments before they were murdered.

      CHAPTER NINE

      Mackenzie did not have cell phone reception until she was back off of the gravel road so she wasn’t able to call McGrath with an update for another ten minutes. His secretary said he was out of the office and he did not answer his cell phone. She decided not to leave a message and, instead, called up Sheriff Tate.

      Tate didn’t answer either but as his voicemail kicked on, she remembered him telling her how his outdated phone had been misbehaving. She hung up, frustrated, but before she had time to get angry, Tate called her directly back.

      “Told ya,” he said. “This damned phone. Anyway, what can I do for you, Agent White?” he asked.

      “How quickly can you meet me at the station with a few of your best men?”

      “I’m at the station right now. And if it’s concerning Kenny Skinner, then the only other person that knows is my deputy, like I told you last night. I can have him back here in about twenty minutes. Why? What’s up?”

      “Just some things I want to fill you in on.”

      “You find something?” he asked, instantly curious. He also sounded a bit excited and Mackenzie wasn’t sure how to take that.

      “I’d really rather wait until I can meet you there. By the way…do you have any way for me to dial in to DC?”

      “Just a standard old touchtone phone. We can conference someone in if we need to.”

      She felt a little spoiled when she found this disappointing. Regardless, she thanked him and ended the call.

      She was five minutes away from the Kingsville PD when McGrath called her back. After she went over the details of what she had found, he went silent for a moment. Finally, just as she was about to pull into the station’s lot, he spoke.

      “You’re certain of this?” he asked.

      “I’m certain enough to say that it strongly warrants an investigation.”

      “That’s good enough for me. Find some way to bring me into this meeting you’re about to have. I want to stay close on this one.”

      “Will do. Give me a few minutes.”

      She parked and went into the station. Sheriff Tate was sitting behind the little bullpen area, waiting for her. When she came into the lobby, he walked quickly to meet her right away. As he escorted her to the back of the small building, he spoke to her under his breath.

      “I did manage to get one of my guys to figure out a way to hook you up with a video call sort of thing on one of our laptops. I’m sure it’s not as high tech as what you’re used to in DC, but it’s all we got out here.”

      “It’s okay. That should be fine.”

      Tate led her into a conference room where a rather old MacBook was sitting on a small wooden table. Another man sat at the end of the table, giving her a wave as she came in. He then stood up and offered his hand.

      “Deputy Andrews,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Agent White.” He was a short and stout man, a little on the heavy side, with the sort of gritty southern charm that could be either charming or off-putting. Mackenzie couldn’t decide where Andrews fell just yet.

      “So, this is the best we could do,” Tate said, turning the MacBook in her direction. “My guy just made sure FaceTime was operable on it. That’s high-tech shit for Kingsville.”

      She pulled McGrath’s number from her contact list and typed it in. When she placed the call, it took a few moments before it connected. When McGrath’s face came on the screen, Tate and Andrews crowded in behind Mackenzie.

      A quick round of introductions were made – nothing more than a formality really, as she was sure McGrath couldn’t care less about Kingsville’s finest.

      “For the sake of all being on the same page,” Mackenzie said, “I’m going to go over everything one more time. There were very minor abrasions on Malory Thomas’s left palm. There was also a very faint indention of sorts, as if she had been clutching on to something moments before her death. After visiting the Miller Moon Bridge this morning, I was able to determine that the indentation was the exact shape of the end caps placed on the bolts along the struts on the edge of the bridge.

      “Additionally, there was a piece of wood found in her hair – which the coroner found off because it was the only piece. It just so happens that the scrap of wood in her hair is the exact same as the wooden planks along and underneath the bridge, right down to the tone and texture. Put all of this together with the fact that she was nude and her clothes were discovered on the bridge, it makes me think she did not jump. It seems more like she was dangling on the edge of the bridge. Pretty tightly, I might add, based on that indentation. And if she was going to kill herself, why would she struggle to hold on to the edge?”

      “Makes sense to me,” Tate said.

      “Yes, it does,” McGrath said. “But that then leads us to more questions. Was it just Malory Thomas who might have been murdered? Can we also lump Kenny Skinner in with her? And if so, why not everyone else who has jumped from that bridge?”

      “I spoke with Dr. Jan Haggerty, a psychiatrist here in town. She says that based on what she knew of Kenny Skinner, there was no way he committed suicide. His mother strongly agrees. And if you look at the dates of the suicides, it’s been almost two years since a body was found on the rocks beneath the bridge. Now, two years later, we have two within the span of four days. I think it’s a safe assumption to say that Kenny Skinner’s death might be worth looking into as a murder as well. The timing makes it too concrete to be a coincidence.”

      “Sheriff Tate, we’ve discussed the importance of the Skinner kid already,” McGrath said. “I ask that in the coming days you please consider giving Agent White any assistance she needs. And please let her have full run of this case. She’s among my best agents and I trust her completely. Can you do that for me?”

      “Absolutely. Just let us know how we can help.”

      “Agent White, do you have any leads to pursue at this point?”

      “Nothing solid,” she said. “But I imagine it wouldn’t be too hard to find some people to speak with in regards to the lives of the victims. I’m continuously being told how this is one of those towns where everybody knows everybody. Speaking to Kenny Skinner’s mother gave me

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