Page 38 of Our Daughter's Bones
“You have to help me bury him.”
Mackenzie’s body would freeze and eventually explode before her brain ever caught up. She was certain of that. Her pulse hammered when he raised his hand, his fingers stretched out, reaching for her.
What do you want?
All she saw was his hand. It was inches away from her face—large and gaunt. Everything around it and behind it was faded and blurry. It was like looking down the wrong end of a telescope.
Those fingers would wring the life out of her. She knew it. Her vision swam—it was only later that she saw the tearstains on her cheeks. The lights in the elevator began to flicker.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
Suddenly, the elevator halted and the doors opened.
“Hello? Are you okay?” came a voice.
Mackenzie lolled her head to find one of her neighbors standing at the door with worry etched on her face. When she looked back, the elevator was empty, and the lights were fine.
“Y-yes. Yes, I-I am.”
Twenty-Two
September 17, 2018
Mackenzie entered the wood-paneled elevator. She held the file close to her chest—she had spent her entire Sunday organizing all the evidence and statements collected related to Abby’s disappearance. It had been the perfect reason to postpone dinner with Sterling, but only until tonight. He said he’d cook. A part of her wished that she liked coffee so that she could shake off her lethargy.
Before the doors closed, a hand weaved through.
Nick entered the elevator with his briefcase and a cup of coffee. “Mack.”
“Hello,” she muttered.
They didn’t speak to each other for the first few seconds. It was oddly stifling. Did he feel it too?
“Luna loved the cookies.” He broke the awkward silence.
She smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Finished the whole lot in one sitting.”
“I’d be disappointed if she didn’t.”
“Solved the riddle too. She said she wants to tell you the answer in person.”
Mackenzie eyed him. He sipped his coffee and stared at the light indicating the floors as the elevator glided up. “Yeah, I would love to see her soon.”
“Sure.” He shrugged, but she saw the corner of his mouth turn up.
Was he trying to fix things? Could they ever be fixed?
“Did you know?”
“What are you talking about, Mack?”
