Page 130 of Our Daughter's Bones
It was almost over. David Falkner was dead. His cabin was now a crime scene. Mackenzie had ridden with Abby to the hospital. She couldn’t stop staring at her. She had spent weeks inside Abby’s mind, sifting through her thoughts, and analyzing her words. Now, she was here.
She was alive.
And all she could focus on was the crescent-shaped mark on the left side of her nose. It looked like an old injury, almost like a birthmark. Why hadn’t she noticed it before in her pictures?
Nick got stitches while Mackenzie called Hannah from the hospital. Hannah had come, running and panicked. She cried at the sight of Abby in the hospital bed. Mackenzie had to sit down to have the tough conversation with her—about what state she had found Abby in.
She’ll be fine. You don’t know what my daughter can do.
As Mackenzie suspected, Abby had been drugged. The doctors were flushing them out of her system. She was also severely dehydrated. Once she came to, they explained to her that they would have to do a rape kit.
Abby never protested. She nodded curtly and lay back. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
The sample analysis was accelerated. Mackenzie got a court order to obtain Nathaniel’s DNA based on Abby’s revelation. She didn’t leave Abby’s side. But she didn’t stand too close either. She observed from a distance.
Nine hours later, the crime lab had received and tested Nathaniel’s DNA. She got an unsettling call from Anthony.
“There were three distinct sets of DNA in the rape kit.”
“Three? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Two were matched with David Falkner and Nathaniel Jones.”
“What about the last one?”
“Couldn’t find a match in any databases. State or Federal.”
Nick slurped his hot coffee next to her. His head had been stitched up. Luckily, he hadn’t suffered a concussion. Mackenzie arranged her notes neatly. The interrogation room was toasty, with gray walls and matching steel table and chairs. She glared at the camera situated in the corner, recording them. Behind them was the two-way mirror.
Nick looked over his shoulder and waved at it.
“What are you doing?”
“The brass is watching, Mack.” He beamed, mockingly. “Hey, Peck!”
“Oh, God.”
“Nathaniel Jones got arrested. They are probably sweating their balls off right now.” He gulped down the scalding coffee and blenched. “That feltgood.”
“Are you on painkillers?”
“Yup.”
As they waited, the events of the day sunk in. Inside, Mackenzie was still in turmoil, from the relief she felt when she found Abby to the unnerving reveal about Nathaniel Jones. The last few hours, her brain and body had been stretched and squeezed. She felt like a wet towel that had been wrung out of all its excess water.
Drained and heavy.
But more work had to be done. There was a third culprit. Club 916 consisted of three men. Men who had snatched innocent women, chained them to beds, raped and murdered them. What was the motive? Celebration. Celebration of football season. Celebration of their “manhood.”
She had an inkling about who the third person was. Unfortunately, Bill Grayson’s DNA was not on file. She had ruled out Grayson earlier. But now it made sense. He could easily have started the club again and recruited Jones and his assistant coach Falkner.
Or could it be Arthur Bishop? But he was the one who’d led them to David. If he were a part of Club 916 then why didn’t he warn David? Why didn’t he fabricate the information he’d sent them?
“We have to get him to give us Bill’s name,” Nick voiced her thoughts. “Think he’ll crack?”
“Not really. But let’s try our best.”
“Abby has no clue who the third person is?”
