The Lengths That I Would Go To

[abrightboy]

The killer was moving around the country. Malcolm Bright could see the pattern, but he wasn't working for the FBI these days and they weren't exactly taking his calls. Short sighted of them, but they did fire him on suspicion of being crazy. The NYPD's jurisdiction was New York. With the killer beyond its borders, they handed it upwards and left it at that.

Let it go, Bright, had been Gil's sage advice. You can't catch every killer in America single-handedly.

Challenge accepted, some part of him retorted, though he'd only nodded mutely and forced a smile. Gil knew he hadn't simply let it go, but he wasn't going to have him followed to stop him doing anything stupid, either. He didn't have the will or the resources to keep tabs on Malcolm Bright 24/7 and Malcolm Bright knew it.

His mother, on the other hand, had extensive resources, so he simply didn't tell her he was leaving town. He did arrange for Ainsley to feed his bird, so the truth would come out eventually, but he'd be several states away by then.

He rode the bus. There was something oddly comforting about the anonymity of being in a crowd of strangers who had no interest in him whatsoever. He stared out the window and watched the country go by. When he stepped off the Greyhound in Lexington, Kentucky, he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in, then headed straight to the US Marshals office. There was no point in trying to talk to the FBI. If he was going to stop a killer from killing again, he needed someone in law enforcement to listen to him. The pattern suggested the next murder would happen in one of the rural communities around Lexington and it would be precipitated by a young woman's disappearance. He needed law enforcement with local knowledge, specifically.

He wandered into the Marshals' offices in a tidy three piece suit, charcoal grey with a burgundy tie perfectly knotted at his collar. He got a few suspicious sidelong glances but nobody asked if they could help him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, hello? I'm wondering if there's anyone here I can talk to about murder." He held up his hands. "Stopping murder, specifically, not... like... smalltalk."

Comments

[abrightboy]

"There's an art to it, but it depends how much time he's already spent planning this particular murder. It's hard to tell, because he's had his audience to deal with, which he hasn't had to deal with before. Do we know when she was taken?" Malcolm asked. "Do we know when he took her exactly?"

[tinstar]

"No telling. She was supposed to show up for work, just like the last one, and didn't." Raylan sucked his teeth shortly. "We've got one shot and two places to check out."

The car accelerated. This was why he'd wanted to stay in Harlan. If this girl died because he decided to be soft, Raylan was going to be pissed.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm stared out the window.

He was the reason they left Harlan. Him and all his problems. It wasn't going to be Raylan's fault if she died; it would be Malcolm's. And he knew it.

Suddenly he said "Drop me off at one and get to the other."

[tinstar]

They could argue about blame rights once they knew if blame needed to be assigned.

"So you can do what? Get yourself sawed or thrown down a mine shaft? They go up to 500 feet, some of 'em - you fall in there, you're a goner. I got Tim and Rachel. They'll take the second property. I'm not dropping you off with nothing but your bag to try and stop this guy."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looked at him sharply.

"I was in the FBI for ten years. I know how to take down a suspect," he said.

[tinstar]

"More people get shot out here than do getting injured by stupidity or drunk driving," he said back, glancing at Malcolm as his right hand took to gesturing, thumb finding his middle finger as his index moved around aimlessly towards the window.

"It's not about your skill, it's about what you got and not doing it without backup. You can shoot but you don't carry and anything you do that comes back is going to be up to it's ass in paperwork."

This wasn't about Malcolm's ego.

[abrightboy]

It wasn't about Malcolm's ego, as far as he was concerned. It was about saving a woman's life. Two women's lives.

"We shouldn't have left," he mumbled, looking out the window again.

[tinstar]

"Shoulda headed back sooner." It was a clipped reply, short and to the point.

There was life past other's death. It was a point of struggle and contention for the Marshal sitting next to him, and half of why he was stuck in Kentucky right now. He had to suffer consequences. Responsibilities.

"But wishing in one hand and shitting in the other only leaves you with a dirty palm. No point in crucifyin' yourself."

[abrightboy]

"How far away is Tim? When will he get there?" Malcolm asked.

[tinstar]

"30 minutes ahead of us. Everything depends on how he drives. We might cut a 3 hour drive down into two. Less than if we're real lucky," he replied, glancing in his rearview. "Let's hope our guy takes his time."

By the time they hit Harlan county lines, Raylan's jaw had stayed tensed. It would have been a great time to smoke. It was evident how fast he was going as soon as they touched dirt road, a magnificent plumb of dust kicking up behind him.

"If you won't take a gun, you'll get the crowbar out of the trunk. But make sure you don't lose it, that thing cost me 30 bucks."

[abrightboy]

"What if it gets dirty?" Malcolm said flatly. He wasn't above hitting a man with a crowbar to save two lives.

[tinstar]

"You say that like anything stays clean."

Raylan afforded Malcolm a sidelong smirk before unloading some details. "Place we're going used to be a farm and buchary. Lots of old knives and out of use freezers. Crowbar might come in handy for more than one thing."

[abrightboy]

"A farm with an abattoir?" Malcolm said, sitting up suddenly. "What's the other site? What kind of place is the other site?"

[tinstar]

"A lumber mill. The river that supplied it dried up a couple of decades ago and the trees started dying off; why? They're both set up to handle his style of bullshit, far enough away from others and both abandoned properties, not to mention how close they are comparatively."

[abrightboy]

"His pattern is to stage the deaths like accidents. He'll go for the site with the biggest impact," Malcolm told him. "A lumber mill, a lumber mill. Does it still have equipment? Like saws? Or has it been stripped?"

[tinstar]

Raylan glanced between Malcolm and the road several times as he weighed that. It was the moment of truth. Did he trust the oddly damaged profiler or cover all their bases? The latter would be the smarter option.

"Shit," Raylan spat, turning the wheel and u-turning them violently, town car fishtailing as it gained traction in it's new direction. "You better be sure about this."

[abrightboy]

"My theories are only as good as the information I build them on. I take it there's still equipment there? Does it still work?" Malcolm pressed.

[tinstar]

"You ever seen a sawmill? Things are massive. It would cost more to tear them out than anyone's got and it's abandoned for a reason. All he'd need to do is get power into it and that's not hard. Get you a good sized generator.."

[abrightboy]

"I know it's going to shock you to learn that I've never been in a sawmill," Malcolm said dryly. An abattoir, yes. But this one sounded relatively small and largely equipped with manual tools. No splash. "Is generator easy to get? To transport? Do people leave them unattended around here?"

[tinstar]

"And me without my pearls," Raylan replied, just as dryly. "Yes. Couple hundred bucks even gets you wheels on 'em."

[abrightboy]

"Can someone find out if someone matching the hotel receptionist's description of him bought one? While we're driving?" Malcolm asked.

[tinstar]

Raylan fished his phone off his hip. "Call Rachel. Tell her. She'll know who to hand that question off to."

"You'll find her name under Rachel. R-A-C-H.."

[abrightboy]

"...I know how to spell Rachel," he said, already scrolling through Givens' contacts, pressing her name when he saw it.

"Hello, Rachel? This is Malcolm Bright. No, he's fine. He's right here." A pause. "He's driving. Can you find out if anyone matching the suspect's description has purchased a generator in the last couple of days that's large enough to power the equipment in a commercial saw mill?" A beat. "A commercial saw mill. Yes. Okay, thanks."

He looked at Raylan as he hung up. "She's going to call back."

[tinstar]

He had to break tension. Raylan listened, glancing as often as he could at Malcolm as he spoke.

"Let's hope he didn't buy it outta state," he grumbled as they took another sharp turn. "We'll be there in 5."

[abrightboy]

"He could have, but if he didn't, it's a paper trail. Even if we get the answer too late."

He watched out the window, looking for the sawmill to come into sight.