Mackenzie got home just after seven that night, knowing full well that she could be called at any moment. There were so many avenues open now, so many different leads that could potentially require her attention. She could feel her body getting tired. She had not been sleeping well since visiting the first murder scene and she knew that if she didn't allow herself time to rest, she'd end up making clumsy mistakes while at work.
When she walked through the door, she saw Zack sitting on the couch with an Xbox controller in his hand. A bottle of beer was on the coffee table in front of him, with two empties lined up in the floor. She knew he'd had the day off and assumed this was how he'd spent it. It made him look like an irresponsible child in her eyes and it was not what she wanted to see after coming in from a day like today.
"Hey, babe," Zack said, barely looking away from the television.
"Hey," she said dryly, heading for the kitchen. Seeing the beer on the coffee table, she had the urge to enjoy one. But honestly, feeling exhausted and on edge, she decided on a cup of peppermint tea instead.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, Mackenzie walked into the bedroom and changed clothes. She had overlooked dinner and was suddenly faced with the fact that there was very little in the house to eat. She hadn't been grocery shopping in a while and she knew damn good and well that Zack hadn't thought to do it.
When she had changed into gym shorts and a T-shirt, she walked back out to the enticing whistle of the tea kettle. As she poured the water over the bag, she heard the muted gunfire from Zack's game. Curious and wanting to at least broach the topic to see how he'd respond, she was unable to keep her frustration to herself.
"What did you do for dinner?" she asked.
"Haven't eaten yet," he said, not bothering to look away from the television. "Were you going to make something?"
She glared at the back of his head and, for a moment, wondered what Ellington was doing. She doubted that he played videogames like some loser locked in his childhood. She waited a moment, letting her rage pass, and then took a step into the living room.
"No, I'm not making anything. What have you been doing all afternoon?"
She could hear his sigh even over the explosions from the game. Zack paused the game and finally turned to look at her. "And just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It was just a question," she said. "I asked what you had been doing this afternoon. If you hadn't been playing your little game, maybe you could have made dinner. Or at the very least picked up a pizza or something."
"I'm sorry," he said, sarcastically and with volume. "How am I supposed to know when you're going to get home? You never communicate that stuff with me."
"Well, call and ask," she snapped.
"What the hell for?" Zack asked, dropping the controller and getting to his feet. "The few times I do bother calling you at work, the call goes straight to your voicemail and you never call me back."
"That's because I'm working, Zack," she said.
"I work, too," he said. "I bust my ass at that damn factory. You have no idea how hard I work."
"Yes, I do," she said. "But tell me this: when was the last time you saw me just sitting on my ass? I come home and I'm usually faced with your dirty clothes on the floor or dirty dishes in the sink. And you know what, Zack? I work hard, too. I work damn hard and I have to see shit on a day-to-day basis that would make you crumble. I don't need to come home to a little boy playing video games and asking what we're having for dinner."
"Little boy?" he asked, nearly shouting now.
Mackenzie hadn't meant to go that far, but there it was. It was a plain and simple truth she'd been holding in for months now and now that it was out, she felt relieved.
"That's how it seems sometimes," she said.
"You bitch."
Mackenzie shook her head and took a step back. "You have three seconds to take that back," she said.
"Oh, go to hell," Zack said, coming around the couch and approaching her. She could tell he wanted to get in her face, but he knew better than to do that. He knew that she could easily take him in a fight; it was something that he had no problem telling her whenever he vented about things that made him unhappy in their relationship.
"Excuse me?" Mackenzie asked, almost hoping that he'd get aggressive and get in her face. And as she felt that, she felt something else with absolutely clarity: their relationship was over.
"You heard me," he said. "You're not happy, and neither am I. It's been that way for a while, Mackenzie. And quite frankly, I'm tired of putting up with it. I'm tired of coming second and I know I can't compete with your work."
She said nothing, not wanting to say anything else to provoke him. Maybe she'd get lucky and this argument would be over soon, bringing them to the end they both wanted without an extensive knock-down-drag-out fight.
In the end, all she said was, "You're right. I'm not happy. Right now, I have no time for a live-in boyfriend. And I certainly don't have time for arguments like this one."
"Well then, sorry to waste your time," Zack said quietly. He picked up his beer bottle, gulped down what remained in it, and set it hard on the table-so hard that Mackenzie thought the glass might break.
"I think you should leave for now," Mackenzie said. She held eye contact with him, holding his gaze so he'd know this was non-negotiable. They'd had fights in the past where he'd almost packed his things and left. But this time, it needed to happen. This time, she'd make sure there were no apologies, no makeup sex, no manipulative conversations about how they needed each other.
Zack finally looked away from her and when he did, he looked furious. Still, he made sure to leave a few inches between them when he stomped past her and toward the bedroom. Mackenzie listened to him go, standing in the kitchen and idly stirring her tea.
So this is what I've become, she thought. Alone, cold, and emotionless.
She frowned, hating the inevitability of it all. She'd once had a mentor who had warned her about this-how if she pursued a career in law enforcement with high ambition, her life would become too busy and hectic for anything resembling a healthy relationship.
After a few minutes, Mackenzie heard Zack start muttering to himself. As drawers in the bedroom opened and closed, she heard the terms fucking bitch, work obsessed, and heartless fucking robot.
The words hurt (she didn't try to pretend to be so hardened that they didn't), but she shrugged them off. Instead of focusing on them, she started cleaning up the mess Zack had accumulated during the day. She cleaned up empty beer bottles, a few dirty dishes, and a pair of dirty socks as the man who had created the mess-a man she had, at one time, fallen in love with-continued to curse and call her names from the bedroom.
*
Zack was gone by 8:30 and Mackenzie was in bed an hour later. She checked her e-mail, seeing a few reports flying back and forth between Nelson and other officers, but there was nothing that needed her immediate attention. Satisfied that she might actually get a handful of uninterrupted hours of sleep, Mackenzie cut off her bedside lamp and closed her eyes.
Experimentally, she reached out and felt the empty side of the bed. Having Zack's side of the bed empty wasn't too jarring because he was often not there when she went to sleep because of his work shifts. But now, knowing that he was gone for good, the bed seemed much larger. As she stretched out and felt that empty side of the bed, she wondered when she had fallen out of love with him. It had been at least a month, she knew that for sure. But she'd said nothing in the hopes that whatever had existed between them might resurface.
Instead, things had gotten worse. She often thought that Zack had sensed her becoming more distant as her feelings had died down. But Zack was not the type to acknowledge such a thing. He avoided conflict at all costs and, as much as she hated to admit it, she was pretty sure he would have stuck around for as long as possible just because he feared change and was too lazy to move out.
As she sorted through all of these things, her cell phone rang. Great, she thought. So much for sleep.
She switched her lamp back on, fully expecting to see Nelson's or Porter's number on her display. Or maybe it would be Zack, calling to ask her if he could please come back. Instead, she saw a number she did not recognize.
"Hello?" she said, doing her best not to sound tired.
"Hi, Detective White," a man's voice said. "This is Jared Ellington."
"Oh, hi."
"Did I call too late?"
"No," she said. "What's up? Do you have something new?"
"No, I'm afraid not. In fact, I got word tonight that we won't have the results on that wood until morning."
"Well, at least we know how the day will start," she said.
"Exactly. But listen, I was wondering if you could meet me for breakfast," he said. "I'd like to go over the case details with you. I want to make sure we're on the same page and not missing even the smallest detail."
"Sure," she said. "What time do you-"
She stopped here, looking toward her bedroom door.
For a split second, she'd heard something move out there. Once again, she'd heard that damned floorboard creak. But more than that, she'd heard a shuffling sound. Slowly, she got out of bed, still holding the phone to her ear.
"White, you still there?" Ellington asked.
"Yes, I'm here," she said. "Sorry. I was asking what time you'd want to meet."
"How about seven o'clock at Carol's Diner? You know it?"
"I do," she said, walking to the doorway. She looked out and saw only shadows and dark, muted outlines. "And seven sounds good."
"Great," he said. "I'll see you then."
She barely heard him as she stepped out of her bedroom and into the small hallway that led to the kitchen. Still, she managed to get out a "Sounds good," before hanging up.
She cut on the hallway light, revealing the kitchen and making the living room look murky. Just like several nights ago, there was no one there. But, just to make sure, she walked into the living room and cut on the light.
Of course, there was no one there. The room offered no places to hide and the only thing unchanged about it was the missing Xbox that Zack had taken with him. Mackenzie looked around the room one more time, not liking the fact that she had spooked so easily. She even walked across the creaky board, testing its noise and comparing it to what she had heard.
She checked the lock on the front door and then headed back to her bedroom. She looked back behind her one more time before cutting out the lights and returning to sleep. Before she turned her lamp off, she took her service pistol out of the bedside drawer and placed it on top, within arm's reach.
She looked at it in the gloom of the bedroom, knowing that she'd not need it but feeling safer that it was right there, in plain sight.
What was happening to her?
