Page 35 of Our Daughter's Bones
“That’s okay.” Mackenzie scratched her head. “She went into the washroom for about thirty seconds. Why?”
“Maybe she just wanted to wash her hands?” Justin offered.
“Maybe, but why would you spend thirty seconds inside and five minutes outside looking around?”
Abby could have left something in that washroom. Mackenzie jumped from her seat and grabbed her coat. “I’m going to go to the gas station and check out the washroom. Clint, send me the information as soon as you can. As far as we know, he’s the last person to see her.”
Nineteen
Olive-sized droplets splattered on the car’s windshield, each one making an audiblebop. Sheets of rain poured over the state of Washington. Mackenzie peered through the drops chasing down the glass, the rippled outline of the gas station coming into view. Luckily, the rain had driven away all the traffic. Her car was the only one there as she parked.
When she climbed out, her feet landed in a puddle. She glared at her boots, now covered in muddy water. She had forgotten an umbrella—a rookie mistake in Lakemore. The rain fell on her back like stinging slaps. Her straight hair began to spring into frizz.
For a moment, she felt like her armor was slipping away. Like she would be naked. Like everyone would see what she had done.
She forced herself to run towards the washroom and not think.
Only Abby matters.
Only solving this case mattered. She reached the door. She looked up at Camera Seven, the one that was now recording her. She knocked on the washroom door twice and waited. No one answered. Slowly, she twisted the knob and entered.
The pungent smell of cleaning solutions and piss made her gag. She pinched her nose. The washroom was small. A sink with a giant crack in the middle was on one wall. It looked like it could break any time. Above the sink, there was a crooked mirror with spider web fractures. Across from the sink, the toilet’s black seat was wet.
She pushed the pedal to open the trash can.Nothing. She bent down and looked under the sink.Nothing.
Space was limited. If there were something here, it wouldn’t be difficult to find. Her eyes scanned the walls. Nothing of significance was written on them. She checked the back of the toilet seat.
She groaned. Abby was in here for thirty seconds. Why? What was she doing? Just washing her hands? Using the washroom quickly?
There was an extractor fan in the wall behind the toilet. She put the toilet seat back down and climbed on it to reach the fan. Did the fan even work? Considering the smell, she guessed it didn’t. There was only one switch in the washroom—it was for the light.
The stench was stronger here. The fan blades were yellow and smudged with black and brown dirt and bent at an awkward angle. In between them, she saw something wedged out of view. She turned on the flashlight on her phone, and gasped.
A cell and a white envelope.
Could this be what Abby left here? Mackenzie could wedge her hand through the blades, but she didn’t have a warrant to remove anything from the premises. Her mind raced. It could besomething.She called Justin.
“Justin, I think I found something in the washroom. It looks like a cell phone and an envelope. But I need a warrant. Not exactly a plain view exception case. How fast can you get one?”
“It’s a Saturday…”
She clenched her jaw. It could be a long process. Preparing the affidavit, getting it reviewed by a prosecutor, getting a judge to sign it, and then filing it with the clerk. “Start it now. Send two patrol officers here to secure the location while we get a warrant.”
Within thirty minutes, two officers were situated outside the washroom at the gas station. They had also cordoned off the area with the yellow-and-black crime scene tape. After instructing them not to let anyone enter the washroom and buying them donuts, she left. She spent the entire day helping with the search warrant and making revisions to it. She knew where to find one judge at short notice; Sterling had told her several times how Judge Montgomery spent Saturday evenings at his gentlemen’s club in Olympia. It took two hours to find him and secure his signature.
Mackenzie worked on autopilot. She didn’t stop to eat or think or answer any of Sterling’s phone calls. She kept moving. When she wasn’t, she found herself drumming her fingers constantly or picking at a scab from a paper cut.
Abby’s cell was in that washroom. She had ditched it and disappeared. It only validated Sully’s theory that she had run away. But what was in that envelope? The money Abby stole? If she had run away, she would have taken the money with her.
Who was that man she was talking to? Clint didn’t get any hits on the logo, but he’d done more work on the image and scanned it again. It would take him some time to find out which clothing brand or store the jacket was from. One thing was clear: the man had no interest in the envelope or the cell phone. Or he didn’t know where they were. How the man in the brown jacket factored in, if it all, was another problem to tackle.
It was eight in the evening when Mackenzie and Justin climbed out of Mackenzie’s car with the warrant. The uniform officers assured her that no one had entered the washroom. They removed the fan. Wearing gloves, Mackenzie grabbed the phone and the envelope. The mobile was dead, but looked undamaged.
“Give this to Clint. Once it’s charged, ask him if he can get it to work. Tell him this takes priority. Wehaveto get into her phone.” She handed the evidence bag to Justin.
Before she placed the envelope in another plastic bag, she opened it. Cash; lots of it. Why would Abby leave her cellandthe money here?
Twenty
