She did have one more legitimate task to carry out before she tormented herself with further thoughts of her mother. She looked into the case files and pulled up the information on her father's autopsy. She found the name of the coroner who had written the original report and set about finding him.
It was fairly easy. While the coroner in question had retired two years ago, Morrill County was the type of place that felt like a black hole. It was impossible to escape it. That's why there were so many familiar faces she saw on the streets. No one had thought to leave, to go elsewhere into the world to see what life had for them.
She'd placed a call to Agent Harrison back in DC to get the address of Jack Waggoner, the coroner who had worked on her father. She had the address within just a few minutes and found herself driving to another small town called Denbrough. Denbrough sat forty miles south of Belton, two little blips on the map that was Morrill County.
Jack Waggoner lived in a house that sat next door to a large meadow. Old ruined fence posts and barbed wire indicated there had once been horses or cattle there. When she parked her car in the driveway of a beautiful two-story Colonial-style house, she saw a woman pulling weeds out of a flower garden that traced the entire porch.
The woman eyed her from the moment Mackenzie turned the car in until she had parked it and got out.
"Hello," Mackenzie said, wanting to interact with the woman as soon as possible before the staring started to irritate her.
"Hey yourself," the woman said. "Who might you be?"
Mackenzie took out her badge and introduced herself as pleasantly as she could. Right away, the woman's eyes lit up, and she no longer looked at her suspiciously.
"And what brings the FBI out to Denbrough?" the woman asked.
"I was hoping to speak with Mr. Waggoner," she said. "Jack Waggoner. Is he home?"
"He is," the woman said. "I'm Bernice, by the way. His wife of thirty-one years. He gets calls from the government sometimes, always about dead folks he's seen in the past."
"Yeah, that's why I've come by. Could you get him for me?"
"I'll take you to him," Bernice said. "He's in the middle of a project."
Bernice led Mackenzie into the house. It was clean and sparsely decorated, making it seem much larger than it actually was. The makeup of the place again made her think that the huge field outside had once held cattle-cattle that had helped pay for such a house.
Bernice led her down into a finished basement. When they came to the bottom of the stairs, the first thing Mackenzie saw was a deer head on the wall. Then, as they turned the corner, she saw a small stuffed dog-a real dog that had been stuffed after death. It was perched in the corner on a strange sort of platform.
In the far corner of the basement, a man sat hunched over a worktable. A desk lamp was shining on something that he was working on, the something hidden by the man's hunched back and shoulders.
"Jack?" Bernice said. "You've got a visitor."
Jack Waggoner turned around and took in Mackenzie with a pair of thick glasses on. He removed them, blinked his eyes almost comically, and slowly got out of his chair. When he moved, Mackenzie could see what he was working on. She saw the body of what looked to be a small bobcat.
Taxidermy, she thought. He just couldn't get away from dead bodies after retirement, it seems.
"I don't believe we've met," Jack said.
"We haven't," she said. "I'm Mackenzie White with the FBI. I was hoping to speak with you about a body you profiled and assisted with about seventeen years ago."
Jack whistled and shrugged. "Hell, I can barely remember the bodies I saw during my last year-and that was just two years ago. Seventeen years might be pushing it."
"It was a pretty high-profile case," she said. A policeman…a detective, actually. A man named Benjamin White. He was my father. He was shot point-"
"Point-blank in the back of the head," Jack said. "With a Beretta 92, if memory serves correct."
"It does."
"Yeah, that one I do remember. And…well, I suppose it's nice to meet you. Sorry about your father, of course."
Bernice sighed and started toward the stairs. She gave an apologetic little smile and wave to Mackenzie as she excused herself.
Jack smiled at his wife as she headed up the stairs. When her footfalls had faded, Jack looked back to the work table. "I'd shake your hand but…well, I don't know if you want to."
"Taxidermy seems like a fitting hobby for a man with your work history," Mackenzie said.
"It passes the time. And the supplemental income doesn't hurt, either. Anyway…I digress. What can I answer for you about Ben White's case?"
"Honestly, I'm just looking for anything out of the ordinary. I've read the case reports more than fifty times, I'm sure. I know it front and back. But I'm also well aware that there are often tiny details only noticed by one or two people-details that don't seem like they are worth including at the time-that don't go in the official report. I'm looking for things like that."
Jack took a moment to think about it but Mackenzie could tell by the disappointed look in his eyes that he wasn't coming up with anything. After a few moments, he shook his head. "Sorry. But in terms of the body itself, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Obviously, the means of death was clear. Other than that, though, his body had been in good shape."
"So then why do you remember it so well?"
"Because of the nature of the case itself. It always struck me as fishy as hell. Your father was a well-respected cop. Someone came into your house, shot him in the back of the head, and managed to get out without anyone seeing who did it. A Beretta 92 isn't incredibly loud, but it's loud enough to wake up a household."
"It woke me up," Mackenzie said. "My room was directly next to his. I heard it but wasn't sure what it was. Then I heard footsteps as someone walked by my room. My bedroom door was closed, something I never did as a kid. I always left a crack. But someone had closed it. The same someone, I assume, that shot my father."
"That's right. You found him, didn't you?"
She nodded. "And it couldn't have been any more than two or three minutes after the gunshot. It took me that long to figure out that something was wrong. That's when I got out of bed and went to my parents' room to check."
"I tell you…I wish I had more for you. And please forgive me for saying so, but something about the official story just doesn't add up. Have you spoken to your mother about any of it?"
"No. Not at length. We aren't exactly the best of friends."
"She was a wreck in the days leading up to the funeral. No one could say a word to her. She went from inconsolable weeping to fits of rage in the blink of an eye."
Mackenzie nodded but said nothing. She could intimately remember her mother's fits of rage. It was one of the key factors in having her admitted to a psych ward later on.
"Was there any sort of secrecy involved when the body arrived at the morgue?" she asked.
"Not that I can remember. No shady business as far as I know. It was just another routine body being delivered. But you know…I do remember one policeman that was always around. He was with them when the body was delivered and he stayed around the medical office for a while, like he was waiting on something. Pretty sure I spied him at the funeral, too. I mean, Benjamin White was a well-respected guy…especially by other officers on the force. But this officer…he was there all of the time. If memory serves correct, he sort of hung back at the funeral, like he needed time alone to process or something. But this was forever ago, mind you. Seventeen years is a long time. Memories sort of start to slip away when you get to be my age."
"Would you happen to know this cop's name?" she asked.
"I don't. But I'm pretty sure he signed some paperwork at some point. Maybe if you can get your hands on the original case files?"
"Maybe," Mackenzie said.
He's telling the truth and he feels sorry for me, Mackenzie thought. Nothing else to be had here…except maybe learning some taxidermy skills.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Waggoner," she said.
"Of course," he said, escorting her back upstairs. "I truly do hope you can wrap this one up. I always thought there was something off about the case. And even though I didn't know your father all that well, I always heard nothing but good things."
"I appreciate that," Mackenzie said.
With a final thanks, Mackenzie headed back outside with Jack at her side. She gave a wave to Bernice, back to the weeds in the flower garden, and got into her car. It was three in the afternoon but she felt like it was much later. She guessed the flight from DC to Nebraska, followed almost right away by a six-hour drive, was catching up to her.
It was too early to call it a day, though. She figured she could end her day by visiting the one place she figured she'd always end up, yet had never stepped foot in before: the Belton police station.
