The Acadia Killer

Chapter 33

The day had turned dark and dreary long before I'd gotten on the road to Massachusetts. The clouds were a deep navy color, ready to burst with thunderstorms at any moment. I felt like I was ready to burst with anger at any moment. I was seemingly angry at the world. I was angry at the police for not catching the right person. I was angry at Regina Middleton for being a corrupt bitch. I was angry at the justice system for failing David MacAfee. And I was angry at Michael Henry for putting everyone in this position to begin with. I was just livid, seething with anger, ready to explode and spit nails at the first person I came into contact with in Massachusetts, but I knew I couldn't do that. It wouldn't help anything.

I told myself to calm down as I drove into Boston, the traffic heavy as always and the rain starting to pour. I'd called ahead to make sure detective Middleton was in the office that day. She was, to my surprise. It was Saturday and I'd expected her to be home relaxing.

Under the guise of writing an investigative piece, I'd told the police department I wanted to interview the detective.

Pulling into the parking lot at the police station, my nerves started to ramp up. I could feel my hands trying to shake a little bit and did my best to calm myself before I went inside.

Once inside, I found a lady at the records department window and asked for directions. She pointed me toward an elevator and sent me to the second floor where detectives resided. I thanked her and went on my way, clutching my notepad and pen with white knuckles.

"Can I help you, miss?" asked a woman police officer when I stepped off the elevator.

She probably thought I'd wandered into the wrong area.

"Yes. I'm looking for detective Regina Middleton," I told her, gesturing to my notepad. "I'm interviewing her for an article about a case she was on."

"Oh, of course," she smiled and pointed down a long corridor of desks, each with plexiglass walls between them that held tons of sticky notes and other bulletins along with various detectives' family photos. "Right down there on the left."

"Thank you," I said and went in search of the detective.

I walked to the end of the corridor and there was no one at the desk. I took my time studying her belongings while I waited for her to show up.

She had photos of who I guessed was her husband on her little bulletin board thing. There were little notes stuck everywhere with case numbers written on them and various details about cases. Then there was a wanted poster with mypicture from the woods on it. It was the Acadia Killer. It even listed the name of the suspect as "Acadia Killer," along with the estimated height and weight of the perpetrator.

"Can I help you?" came a voice behind me, nearly startling me out of my skin.

I turned around to see a woman who looked to be in her late fifties. Her hair was greying, and she obviously dyed it back to its dark brown color. She was much older than in the photo I'd seen in the yearbook, but I could tell it was the same woman.

Regina Sanchez was Regina Middleton.

"Yes. I'm Mackenzie Vega," I said, extending my hand to shake hers. "I called about doing the interview this morning."

She eyed me questioningly at first but shook my hand. "Right. Let's go in the conference room and talk this over."

I tried my best to put on a cheery face and act like I was all business so she wouldn't suspect a thing, but I had to keep in mind that she sniffed out fakes for a living and she probably had a few thoughts about me already.

We walked into a large room with a big rectangular table and a ton of chairs sitting around it. She sat at the head of the table, and I sat down in the chair nearest to her on the left.