Page 14 of Our Daughter's Bones
She looked around. She was alone.
No one would know that Mad Mack had cried alone at her desk.
But before she surrendered, an idea popped into her mind. Quickly, she grabbed her jacket and Glock 17 from the drawer.
The sun had set. Stars like snowflakes dotted the sky. The patrol officers and volunteers would start searching again tomorrow, but a quick ride around the city wouldn’t hurt anyone. Mackenzie decided to drive up and down the route from Abby’s school to her house. Maybe she would get lucky and findsomething,if not her.
Lakemore wasn’t a dead city yet. People were leaving restaurants and grocery stores. Some were walking their dogs. She scanned every face as she drove through narrow alleys and parking lots.
There was one dangerous street in between Abby’s school and house. Cops had busted dealers selling there before. She parked and decided to walk around. It was only nine in the evening. Not too late, but the bad parts of Lakemore were always risky.
The air was moist despite the clear start to the day. The blowing wind felt wintry. She walked the street carefully, her holster clipped to the waistband of her pants. The street was little more than an alley, wedged between two major thoroughfares, backed onto by bars and fast-food restaurants. Mackenzie plugged her nose against the overflowing dumpsters lined up along the graffiti-covered walls, the pungent smell making her nostrils burn. The ground was littered with plastic bags and packets, and most of the lampposts were broken. Only two flickered erratically.
The alley looked empty, but she saw a shadow huddled in a corner. Her heart sped up. She inched closer, her hand hovering over her gun. The streetlight revealed an old homeless man. He was sleeping. Mackenzie sighed and moved forward.
She didn’t even know what she was doing. She just didn’t want to rest. She didn’t want to stop. It was possible that for some reason Abby took this route home. Or maybe someone brought her here. There were many reasons for illegal things to happen here; there were plenty of storage rooms in the back of the buildings either side; the area had poor surveillance; the lighting was weak; foot traffic was nonexistent.
Weren’t most of the women found in places like this anyway? A few miles away from their homes in a sketchy area that the police neglected to inspect thoroughly?
She strained her ears to hear something. But there was only the faint sound of traffic, the low hum of extractor fans, and the occasional buzz of music from the units either side. She squinted her eyes, trying to see something that wasn’t there.
The place was dead.
A dog barked in the distance. A car honked. A group of people chattered as they walked past the end of the alley. There was no activity here tonight.
Mackenzie’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She gave up on her detour and headed back to the car. “Detective Price.”
“Mack, we got another problem,” Sully said. “Come to the woods behind Hidden Lake.”
She froze.
She was back to that night. She could smell pine and cedar. She felt the dough-like mud in between her toes. Her ears tickled with Melody’s shallow breaths as she dug her father’s grave.
“Mack? You there?”
“Yes.” Her voice was hoarse. “W-what happened?”
“We found a body.”
Seven
Mackenzie drove on autopilot. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the GPS giving her directions. Not that she needed GPS.
We found a body.
The words left her dizzy. Whose body was it? Mackenzie knew there was one body buried in those woods. Had they found her father’s bones after two decades?
Or was it Erica? Or Abby? Or someone else?
Sully had disconnected the call before Mackenzie could grill him any further. Not that she had found her voice in time.
Adrenaline surged through her. Her brain was frantic, as though a cluster bomb had gone off. The memory chewed at her blackened heart. Guilt hadn’t snuck up on her out of the blue one day. It had been a constant voice inside that had grown louder over the years.
You have to help me bury him.
She punched the gas pedal, teasing the speed limit. Clutching the wheel till her knuckles whitened, her mind raced.
What if it was her father? There would be an investigation. Robert Price was never found. His case was closed due to lack of evidence or promising leads over ten years ago. He wasn’t alive in anyone’s memory. He was the town drunk who mostly stayed home and beat his wife.
