Page 110 of Our Daughter's Bones
“Most of them are dead or almost dead. The youngest ones would be sixty-five years old.”
“The names, Mr. Grayson.”
He nodded and scribbled the names on the paper. When he was done, he set the pen down. “I want you to know how ashamed I am for what I did. I can have all the excuses in the world about how the times were different and how young I was, but it doesn’t negate the wrongness of my actions. It took years of introspection and maturity to realize the truth of what I did.” He cleared his throat and wiped a tear spilling down his cheek. “I didn’t hurt Abigail. I haven’t hurt anyone since my time with Club 916. I have tried to give more than I took.”
Mackenzie closed her file and notes and stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Grayson. If we have any questions, we’ll be in touch.”
Bill frowned like he was expecting sympathy after his confession, but recovered quickly. Weakly, he nodded and was escorted out by Peck. The second the door to the conference room shut, Mackenzie turned to Nick.
“Do you believe him?”
“I hate him. But I buy his story,” Nick admitted. “I think his alibi’s going to be airtight.”
“Abby was mistaken? She thought it was Bill behind the disappearances.”
“He could still be. A bit cocky, isn’t it? To show up without a lawyer. Smells like entitlement to me. Like he knows he’ll still be protected.”
“He won’t be wrong. Didn’t you watch Peck cosset him?”
“Do you think it’s the team?” he huffed. “They’ve started the tradition again?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think they would do anything to risk their futures in today’s age of technology—it’s easier to get caught, for rumors to spread widely. I want to believe kids are smarter these days. I think it’s either an ex-member of the club or a fanatical fan of the Sharks who discovered what they did and honors them in his own sick way.”
“Unless those kids think they’re too smart. I’ll take this list to Jenna and ask her to track everyone on it and look for more members.”
Mackenzie picked up her file and headed to the office to grab a bite to eat. The pangs of hunger grew stronger now that the interview was over. She was out of distractions. She knew if she didn’t find food now the grinding pain would cripple her. Her phone vibrated with a message from Justin.
Traced the company to the Caribbean. It’s a long trail. Will take more time.
She clicked her tongue and replied.
Okay. Keep at it.
In the office, Troy stood by her cubicle with his arms crossed and shoulders taut.
“Troy? Everything okay?”
He turned around to reveal a scraggy boy sitting in her chair.
“Who are you?” she asked him. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him.
“I’m Max.”
Mackenzie remembered him now—the boy Quinn had hit at the funeral.
“Oh! Right! Sorry. How can I help you?”
Max wrapped his arms around his school bag. “Where is she? D-did you find her?”
“What are you talking about?” Her chest tightened.
Max’s face was flushed. His Adam’s apple bobbed like a bouncing ball. Finally, he broke down.
“Abby! She was supposed to be at Coach Grayson’s cabin! We planned this entire thing!”
Sixty
A fluorescent light hummed
