Page 28 of Our Daughter's Bones
“Oh, Sterling. You’re very emotional tonight. Sleep it off, baby.” She kissed him on the cheek and walked away without looking back. A few minutes later, she heard the front door close with a loud thud.
She went back to the kitchen and saw him drive away in his car. She could have followed him. She wondered if he had gone to his mistress. Where else would he go at midnight on a Thursday? But she found herself pouring a glass of Merlot. She never touched hard liquor, knowing that alcoholism could be hereditary. Even with wine, she always knew when to stop. She couldn’t lose herself. There was always another case, another mind, to lose herself in. Any other mind but her own.
Unfortunately, Abby’s cell phone provider had confirmed that the last time her phone was active was in the vicinity of Lakemore High, which included the area she was last seen in according to the CCTV footage. Like Erica, she also used a third-party app to make calls. Her last texts had been to Hannah at lunchtime Tuesday, discussing dinner plans.
The lack of new information was disappointing, but Mackenzie was determined to find something. She pulled out Abby’s diary from her bag and settled on the couch. The first entry was dated three months before Erica went missing. Mackenzie quickly flipped through the pages.
It was then she realized that several pages had been ripped out. Abby’s diary was incomplete.
Fourteen
September 14
It had been three days since Abby Correia went missing. Her phone still couldn’t be traced. Hours had been spent doing due diligence on tips the team knew were bogus. And then even they stopped coming in. No one had reported a genuine sighting. The news either covered Erica’s case or highlighted the game next week between the Lakemore Sharks and the Jefferson Frogs. Abby’s picture was permanently displayed in a small window at the bottom of the screen. But there was barely any mention of her. In fact, her picture wasn’t even very clear.
Things moved slowly in Lakemore.
Mackenzie turned off the television, pushing the button harder than necessary. She was the only one around, hence no one protested. Sully was yet to come in; Mackenzie guessed that her boss and his wife were nursing a hangover. He was due to drop by before an afternoon’s fishing, planned weeks ago, but she wasn’t expecting him to show. Finn was in meetings with the DA; they were prepping him for an upcoming trial. Troy had driven out to Seattle to hunt down a potential suspect. Ned and Dennis were out on fieldwork.
She looked at Nick’s desk. It was cluttered with empty coffee cups and fast food bags. It had been clean the night before. He must have come back to work after dinner yesterday, or been in earlier in the morning. It wasn’t easy to take over a case from another detective—especially when that detective had checked out after retirement and had no intention of helping. Bruce Stephens was sailing around the world with his twenty-two-year-old girlfriend.
Mackenzie lifted her legs to her desk. A sweet ache bloomed in her calves. She had run over three miles this morning. Anything was better than dealing with Sterling and his moods. She’d gone to bed before he’d come home and left for the office before he’d got up.
She looked at her hands. Her fingers were long and slender, ending with brightly painted yellow nails. Despite years of punching and being rough, she took care of her hands. She kept a moisturizer on her desk. She oiled her nails. Yet sometimes she would still see dried blood caking her fingertips; her hands, calloused and dry, trembling as they scraped it off. The pieces had felt soft and sticky.
The only ring she wore was her rose-gold wedding band with textured edges. She had selected it. Simple and elegant. Her engagement ring had been too precious and gaudy to wear every day at work. She removed the wedding band and set it aside. She looked at her hands again and flexed her fingers. She typed on her computer and doodled in her diary. How did it feel to be without it?
Did it feel lighter? Or did it feel lacking?
She put her ring back on and picked up Abby’s journal. She read an entry dated two months before Erica disappeared.
Dear diary,
I had a fight with Hannah. I love her. But it wounds me to see that she doesn’t live up to her potential. I want her to quit her job at Remington’s. It’s embarrassing she works there. I know she thinks she does everything to support me. But does she have to be a waitress at a strip club? I’m trying to get us out of this poverty and misery that were a result of her poor choices, but she continues to be a part of it. Is it too much to ask that your mother work at a respectable place? If only she would listen to me, I could help her. I could help her be so much more. But Hannah just doesn’t listen.
Hannah? Not Mom?Mackenzie frowned. She never maintained a journal as a teen. No pen could handle the words she wanted to write. But would she ever have referred to Melody by her name if she wrote about her? She knew she often thought of her as Melody, but that was a way of distancing herself. A barrier. At home Melody had always been Mom. She got a piece of paper and wrote the sentence.
Melody is dead.
She stared at the words. They were clinical and impersonal. She wrote again.
My mom is dead.
The words were a splash of ice-cold water to her face. She shivered. The last image she had of Melody shimmered before her eyes. She had climbed out of the yellow cab in New York. She had looked healthier. All her bruises had healed. Her face lacked the perpetual tension and worry. She’d smiled and raised her arms to embrace Mackenzie. The corners of eyes were wrinkled.
Mackenzie crumpled the paper in a ball and tossed it into the trash can. The next entry was a week later.
Dear diary,
Erica wanted to buy this sparkly blue dress for the party next weekend. I told her it was a bad idea. The dress was pretty, but she didn’t look like herself in it. It was too loud for her. Subtlety suits Erica. She already stands out too much. I see the pressure she is under—to perform, to behave, to impress. She attracts a lot of attention with those pretty almond-shaped eyes and her thick dark hair. I don’t want people to think she is vain and only focused on her looks. I want people to see her real beauty. I want people to think good things about her. How will they do that when she is shining too bright?
Mackenzie was still pondering Abby’s words when Justin walked in with a file.
“Good morning, ma’am.” His voice boomed in the empty office. She kicked out a chair for him to sit on.
“The day you stop calling me ma’am will betheday. What do you have for me?”
He ignored her comment and sat down. “I spoke to Jenna. The gas station does keep a backup drive. They said they would send us the recordings by tomorrow morning.”
