Page 128 of Our Daughter's Bones
“I… please…”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She petted her softly. “You’re safe now.”
She strongly suspected that Abby was drugged. Her uneven breathing, the glazed look in her eyes, and the sluggish movements of her head gave it away. She yanked at the chain. But it didn’t budge. There was no key in sight, as she had suspected.
Mackenzie pulled out two hairpins from her pocket and began working at the lock.
“M-mom…” Abby whispered. “Home. Please. H-home.”
“Yes, I’ll take you home, Abby,” she assured her as she placed an ear next to the lock, listening to the turns. “Your mother’s waiting for you.”
“They gave me… s-something.”
“They? Who are they?” She unlocked the chain and lightly freed Abby’s arm.
Abby winced. “The r-room… spinning.”
“I know. Let’s go now. Easy.”
She set aside the chain and carried Abby’s weight. Abby swayed, mindless. Her lips were close to Mackenzie’s ear when she whispered.
“Nathaniel Jones.”
Seventy-One
Abby was alive.
That was what mattered the most. Mackenzie reminded herself over and over again as she dragged Abby across to the stairs. She had fainted. Her words had turned into gibberish. Her eyes had rolled to the back of her head. But her last coherent words were crystal clear in Mackenzie’s mind.
Nathaniel Jones.
He was David Falkner’s partner in Club 916. They knew each other. Nathaniel would be ready to post David’s bail if he were charged. He’d used his own son to deflect attention from Falkner already. They must have gotten close through Quinn.
Images of Nathaniel sitting across from her flashed through her mind. The power of his stillness. The arrogance in his dead eyes. He was a predator. She’d misconstrued it to be privilege. She didn’t realize it extended to something this wicked.
She climbed one step at a time, helping Abby up and pointing the flashlight ahead of her. Cold sweat swathed the girl’s scalp. Mackenzie tightened her hold on her. Like she was afraid she would slip away again.
She heard a sound. Did a chair topple? She checked her phone. It was then she realized that her text message to Nick never got sent. There was no service. She heard muffled sounds—a grunt.
Someone else was in the cabin.
She set Abby down on the stairs. Under her fingertips, she felt the girl’s thready pulse. “Abby, stay here. I’ll be back.”
Mackenzie pulled out her gun. As she covered the distance between her and the door, the muffled voices gained clarity.
“David, put the gun down.” Nick’s voice was stern.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”
Mackenzie reached the top of the stairs. She sighed in relief when she saw the coin still wedged between the door and the frame. A sliver of light filtered through. She held her breath—afraid of making any noise—and looked through the inch-wide space.
“There are going to be serious consequences if you shoot a police officer.” Nick stood in front of the door with his hands raised.
David had gotten hold of Nick’s gun.
Saliva thickened in her throat. Her chest contracted as icy daggers stabbed at the spaces between her ribs. She tightened her grip on her own gun.
“There won’t be any when you’re dead!” David spat.
