“What the hell is going on?” Nelson shouted. “I saw you two take off in my rearview and – ”
He stopped when he saw the third person with them, his hands cuffed behind his back.
“He says his name is Ellis Pope,” Mackenzie said. “He was hanging out at the edge of the forest, watching us. When I called out to him, he went running.”
Nelson got in Pope’s face and it was clear that Nelson was struggling not to physically assault him. “What were you doing here, Mr. Pope?” Nelson asked. “Did you stay close by to admire your handiwork?”
“No,” Pope said, now more frightened than ever.
“Then why were you here?” Nelson asked. “It’s the only time I’ll ask you before I start to lose my cool.”
“I’m a reporter,” he said.
“For which paper?” Mackenzie asked.
“No paper. A website. The Oblong Journal.”
Mackenzie, Nelson, and Ellington shared an uncomfortable glance before Mackenzie slowly reached into her pocket for her phone. She pulled up her browser, searched for The Oblong Journal, and opened up the page. She quickly navigated to the Staff page and not only did she find the name Ellis Pope, but the picture in the bio was clearly the same man that stood before him.
It was rare that Mackenzie cursed, but she handed her phone to Nelson and let out a strained, “Fuck.”
“Now,” Ellis Pope said, realizing that he was slowly gaining control of the situation. “Which one of you pigs do I have to talk to about pressing charges?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mackenzie felt a little out of her element in Ellington’s company and oddly enough, it was a feeling that was only magnified as they sat side by side in a bar two hours later. She knew they both looked tired and a little worn, making them fade into the rest of the patrons. They were not the only ones dressed relatively nicely; people coming in off of work were also dressed slightly above casual, pulling up to the bar in the shirts and ties and pantsuits they had worn to work. Dim afternoon light spilled in from the two windows along the other side of the bar but it was the neon behind the bar and the reflection of the overheads from the shelved liquor bottles behind the bar that set the mood.
“Any idea how Pope found out about the scene so quickly?” Ellington asked her.
“None. There has to be a mole on the force.”
“That’s what I figure,” Ellington said. “And because of that, I don’t see how Nelson can be too hard on you. There’s no way you could have even suspected that the movement in the woods was a journalist. Especially not when Pope took off running like that.”
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
Mackenzie knew she’d gotten off easy. Her superior had watched her take a chubby and defenseless online journalist to the ground in a pretty harsh tackle. And while Pope had gotten nothing more than a slight gash on his temple from falling on a root, and while he had been trespassing on private property, it was still grounds for punishment. Still, she’d gotten what basically equated to a slap on the wrist. She’d seen Nelson dish out much worse for less. It made her wonder, though, just how much faith he had in her. To let her go on her merry way while Ellis Pope was likely making phone calls spoke volumes about his confidence in her.
Of course, he had also demanded that she get the hell out of his sight and go somewhere to re-orient herself before she assaulted the next poor bastard that just happened to get in her way. Sensing a small window of escape before he could think better of his decision to keep her actively on the case, she’d done exactly that.
As she was sipping as responsibly as possible on a locally brewed stout from the tap, she tried to remember the last time she had come to a bar as a means of escaping the world. She’d usually used work for that – something that was much easier to admit to herself now that Zack was out of the picture. But now that work had sent her away for a bit, it felt surreal to be sitting at a bar.
It was stranger still to be sitting next to an FBI agent she had only met yesterday. In the short span of time she’d spent with Agent Ellington, she had figured out a few things about him. First, he was an old-fashioned gentleman: he opened doors for her, always asked her opinion before making a decision, referred to those older than him as ma’am and sir, and he also seemed to be protective over her. When they had come into the bar, two men had made very little effort to hide the fact that they were checking her out. Noticing this, Ellington had stepped beside her, blocking her from their view.
“You know why the men on your force are so hateful toward you, right?” Ellington said.
“I assumed it was just the way they were raised,” Mackenzie said. “If I’m not in an apron bringing them a sandwich or beer, what good am I?”
He shrugged. “That could be some of it, but no, I think it’s something else. I think it’s because you intimidate them. More than that, I think they sort of fear you. They’re afraid you might make them look stupid and inept.”
“How do you figure?”
He only smiled at her for a moment. And although there was nothing overtly romantic about the smile, it was nice to be looked at in such a way. She couldn’t remember the last time Zack had looked at her like that – as something to be appreciated rather than used or tolerated.
“Well, let’s get the obvious out of the way: you’re young and you’re female. You’re essentially the brand new computer that’s coming into the office to take all of the jobs. You’re also a walking encyclopedia for forensics and investigation from what I hear. Throw in the way you chased down that poor journalist today, and it’s the complete package. You’re the new breed and they’re the old dogs. That sort of thing.”
“So it’s a fear of progress?”
“Sure. I doubt they would ever see it like that, but that’s what it boils down to.”
“I’m assuming this is a compliment?” she asked.
“Of course it is. This is the third time I’ve been paired with a highly motivated detective and you’re by far the most accomplished and driven I’ve seen. I’m glad we got paired up.”
She only nodded because she wasn’t sure how to handle his compliments and evaluations yet. On the job, he’d been very professional and by the book – not only in his approach to the job, but also in the way he had approached her. But now that he was being a little less reserved, Mackenzie was having a hard time drawing the line between where on-duty Ellington stopped and where off-duty Ellington began.
“Did you ever think about joining the Bureau?” Ellington asked.
The question stunned her so badly that she was unable to answer for a moment. Of course she had thought of it. She had once dreamed of it as a child. But even as a determined twenty-two-year-old with her sights on a career in law enforcement, the FBI had seemed like some unattainable dream.
“You have, huh?” he asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“A little. You looked embarrassed just now. It makes me think that you have thought about it but never chased it down.”
“It was a dream of sorts that I had for a while,” she said.
It was embarrassing to admit it, but there was something about the way that he was reading her that made her not mind as much.
“You’ve got the skills,” Ellington said.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I think my roots here are too thick. I feel like it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late, you know.”
He looked at her, professional and intense.
“Would you like me to put in a word for you and see if it lands on any interested ears?”
She was blown away by his offer. On the one hand, she wanted to, more than anything; on the other, it brought up all her old insecurities. Who was she to qualify to work for the FBI?