Page 19 of Our Daughter's Bones
He picked it up. “Zoloft. That’s sertraline. Used to treat depression and panic attacks. Why do you want to check these?”
“Just want to confirm.”
“This isn’t from a crime scene.”
“No. I have a missing girl. Abigail Correia. This was in her bedroom. Just following a hunch.”
“No problem. I’ll have results for you by tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks, Anthony.” Mackenzie’s phone rang. “Excuse me.”
She frowned at the unknown number on the screen and stepped out of his office.
“Detective Price.”
“Hi, Detective Price. This is Hannah Correia,” a throaty voice came down the line.
“Hannah, hello. How are you doing? Have you heard from Abby?”
Hannah hesitated. “N-no, I haven’t. But I just realized something. I thought you should know.”
“Of course, what is it?”
“I…” she sighed. “I think Abby was stealing money from me.”
Nine
Back at the station, Mackenzie watched the sports commentators discussing strategy. The flat-screen television in the lounge played either the game or the news. For years, Mackenzie thought that they didn’t get any other channels. It wasn’t until one night when she was working late and had come downstairs to use the vending machine that she caught the janitor, Joe, watchingFrasier.Joe had jumped to turn off the television but stopped when Mackenzie sat next to him and offered him a Snickers.
Now, by some silent agreement, Mackenzie and Joe watched an episode ofFrasierevery Thursday night. Neither of them would speak to each other. She liked that he appreciated silence as well.
Some fellow officers were sitting in the lounge watching intently. Highlights from the kickoff game of the annual Olympic Championship were on. Every year Lakemore and other towns in Washington came together in what had started off as a friendly tournament between high schools decades ago. Today, Lakemore breathed football. The competition became fierce. People became emotionally invested. Then the sponsorships and money came. Local media attention followed soon after. High school football was the reason behind investment in the local college team.
Soon Lakemore was on its way to becoming a football town. Lakemore University was a small college but had a reputable football team, being an FCS school. There was a push to qualify for FBS status—the top level of the college game. The dream was that one day the Lakemore Lions would gain recognition on a national level.
But high school football was the backbone. It received more love and attention than the college team. It seemed ridiculous to an outsider, but the Olympic Championship was a local symbol of pride and respect. All the boys who made it to the team were guaranteed spots at some of the best football colleges across the country, like University of Michigan and Louisiana State. The grooming started early, attracting the attention of scouts from everywhere. Many players in the NFL were Lakemore Sharks alumni.
This was the legacy of Lakemore. It was the mark Lakemore would leave on this country if it were wiped out tomorrow.
Even though Mackenzie had spent most of her life in Lakemore, she never understood its obsession with football.
She didn’t understand the obsession withanysport. To her, sport was just entertainment. But when she said as much to her husband, he had quoted a line from a Fredrik Backman novel: ‘The only thing the sport gives us are moments. But what the hell is life apart from moments?’
The words had clicked somewhere, made her curious. It had made her want to give sports a chance. But she would never love football like her coworkers did. The seeds for that kind of obsession had to be sowed earlier in youth, and Mackenzie had spent most of her formative years away from Lakemore.
She checked the clock hanging on the wall.
“Detective Price?” Hannah’s scratchy voice came from behind.
“Hannah. Thank you for coming to see me.” She shook her hand.
Hannah looked cleaner. Her dreary hair was tied in a braid, which accentuated the squareness of her face. Her eyes were crusted with dark circles, but they didn’t look glassy. She didn’t reek of cigarettes either, though if Mackenzie sniffed hard enough she could smell the staleness under the perfume.
“You look better,” Mackenzie commented. “I mean, I’m glad to see you’re holding it together.”
Hannah shuddered and tightened her grip on the strap of her shoulder bag. “I have a lot of faith in my daughter.” She glanced at the screen and scowled. “Of course.”
“You don’t follow football? That’s hard to find here.”
