Page 127 of Our Daughter's Bones
“Mack,” Nick whispered, and gestured to the coffee table. Coasters and cocktail napkins were piled there.
They all had the number “916” with the logo printed on them. The complete logo had a triangle on top with an eye in it.The all-seeing eye.There was a fireplace with three pokers sitting on the mantel. Their ends were shaped like numbers: “9,” “1,” and “6.” The same pokers were probably used to brand Daphne Cho.
There was no doubt that they were in the right place. This was the lair of Club 916. The assistant coach of the Sharks, David Falkner, was a part of it.
“I’ll go up,” Nick mouthed.
Mackenzie stayed put and inspected the first floor. There were no shoe prints and no blood. The kitchen sink had one glass in it. She picked it up and took a whiff.
Beer.
Someone had been here not too long ago. Most likely, David Falkner. She recalled his sleazy and vile behavior in the locker room. How he tried to lure Nick into going to that party with him for the “chicks”—girls who were underage. She remembered his temper and entitlement when Nick arrested him.
Perhaps the fact that he got away with killing Erica had gone to his head. If he could target Samuel Perez’s daughter and get away with it despite the massive media coverage and police resources, then he could do anything.
He was the assistant coach to the Sharks. He had been groomed to be the head coach once Bill retired. That day was not far off. There was already a rumor circulating that this year was Bill’s last. Falkner was not revered like Bill was, though he would be if he kept winning championships.
But who else was David working with? Bill Grayson? Perhaps some boys from the team, or the trainers? There was no evidence of anyone else in the cabin.
Mackenzie froze. She noticed that an empty section of wall next to the wall of fame was different. The fresh white paint glistened compared to the aged paint around it. She touched the wall curiously. It was then she felt a button under her fingers.
She had inadvertently pressed it.
There was a click.
A door built into the wall swung open slowly. Goosebumps sprouted up her arm. The hair on the back of her neck stood alert.
A set of stairs led down to the spinning darkness. She could hear Nick upstairs. He was checking every room and every corner. She pulled out her phone.
There’s a basement accessible through a secret door on the wall next to the display shelves. I’m going down.
She took out a coin from her pocket and wedged it between the door and the wall. She turned on her phone’s flashlight and started climbing down the stairs.
The secret door behind her swung shut. She was already halfway down. Besides, the coin would keep the door open. The temperature had dropped significantly. Even under her leather jacket, she felt the bite. Her toes curled in her shoes. All she heard was the sound of her own breathing.
Her mouth ran dry. Her movements became jerkier. She thought something would pounce out of the darkness and pull her into it. But she kept moving. She knew Abby was here. She knew that other girls had been here too. She could smell their blood and hear their screams.
A door appeared at the foot of the stairs. It opened with a creak, the sound slicing through the jarring silence. There was another sound—cloth rustling.
Mackenzie’s hand searched blindly for a switch. Light flooded the room, illuminating the moldy yellow walls.
The room was furnished only with a bed. The air was stale and cold, smelling like rotten eggs and expired milk.
A girl lay on the bed. Her bony arm was chained to one of the bedposts. She moved hazily.
It was Abby.
Her eyes were open, but she looked dizzy. Like she was not registering her surroundings yet and had just woken from a deep slumber. The skin around her eyes was sunken. Her face was gaunt. Her collarbones jutted out, sharp enough to poke. She was frail, like she had survived on minimum nourishment; just enough to keep her alive.
She wore a ratty old T-shirt and was naked from the waist down. Purple bruises and bite marks covered her legs. Dried blood stained the insides of her thighs. Her nails were chipped and broken.
Bile rose in Mackenzie’s throat. She had been kept like an animal.
She touched Abby’s face. “Abby? Can you hear me?”
Her head lolled. “I… I…”
“I’m Detective Price,” she whispered in her ear. “I’m with the police. I will get you out of here. You’re safe now.”
