Page 105 of Our Daughter's Bones
Nick returned from upstairs. “Nothing. I’m calling it in. This is a crime scene.”
It had been over five hours since the crime scene investigators were called. They raked through the cabin with a fine-tooth comb. They dusted for fingerprints and searched for bodily fluids. They drew sketches and collected photographic evidence during walkthroughs. If there was anything else worth finding, they would.
Mackenzie was not expecting results tonight, though she put in a request to fast-track the DNA profiling on the blood that was found.
The crime lab reported that there was a faint shoe print in the living room—the size suggesting it belonged to a man. They were still running analysis on it, trying to decipher the pattern to get the exact size and hopefully the type of shoe.
Back at the station, Mackenzie perched herself on a table and noticed Nick’s twitchy fingers. He had gone through three cups of black coffee. His phone buzzed, and he shot up so fast that the air around him billowed.
“Anthony, hi. Mack is here too.” He turned on the speakerphone.
“We just tested the blood residue. It belongs to Abby.”
Nick punched the air. “Yes!”
Breath squeezed out of Mackenzie’s lungs. “We got him.”
“Thanks, Anthony. Let us know if you have more.” He disconnected the call. “Pretty twisted that we’re glad Abby lost all that blood.”
“No. This blood loss will get her justice, and save her life if she’s still alive.”
Pulses of delight gushed through her. She was close to Abby. She felt like all she had to do was reach out with her hand and snatch her into a safe world again.
“I’m going to ask Jenna to start preparing the affidavit,” Nick said. “We’re going after Bill Grayson.”
Fifty-Eight
September 25
Mackenzie sat in the conference room. Her stomach unfurled. The hunger had moved beyond throwing tantrums. Now it clawed at her insides—bit by bit.
She’d barely eaten in twenty-four hours.
By the time she’d gotten home last night, it was almost midnight. Sterling was asleep. She had found leftover pasta and sandwiches he had left her on the kitchen counter. Her stomach had moaned so loudly she thought it might climb out of her mouth, strut to the food, and fill itself. Instead, she ignored it and slept on the couch.
When she woke up this morning, Sterling was gone.
What were his intentions? He ignored her. He didn’t message or call. But he was considerate enough to leave her food.
The pencil in between her fingers broke. She jumped at the sharp lead slashing over her palm. It wasn’t long before she watched Lieutenant Peck prowl toward the conference room, followed by Nick.
“Detective Price!” he roared.
“Yes?”
“What is this?” Peck hurled a crumpled piece of paper across the table.
She knew exactly what it was. She looked at Nick standing behind Peck with his arms crossed and jaw flexing. “It’s an affidavit for an arrest warrant.”
“Against Bill Grayson?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Thereisprobable cause,” she said slowly. “We found Abby’s dried blood in his cabin.”
Peck’s body quaked like someone had trailed the tip of a cold blade over his skin. His mouth opened and closed like fish. “Why were you at his cabin in the first place?”
“Abby referred to a ‘Monster’ in her diary. We suspected Bill Grayson.”
“It’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”
