Page 53 of Our Daughter's Bones
“Vincent Hawkins was the biggest news reporter in Lakemore until a few years ago. He worked at the Lakemore Latest channel—the most viewed local news here. But he was fired.”
“Why?”
“His sources got leaked,” Nick said. “His computer was hacked into. It wasn’t his fault, but his career was finished. Now he writes for some small papers.”
“Poor guy.”
“Well, the good news is that nobody reads this paper.” Mackenzie tossed the newspaper away. “And no one takes him seriously anymore.”
“True, but we need to be careful,” Sully said, distracted, analyzing the wine in the glasses. “I don’t want other news channels to pick up this chatter. Tell your people not to talk to anyone.”
“He obviously got to someone. How the hell did he know it was a shallow grave?”
“As long as the broken nail doesn’t get out, we’re good,” Sully said. “If that reaches Hawkins, I’m going to start firing people.”
“Fair enough. Did you give up on the trout?” asked Mackenzie.
Sully shot her a flat look. “Fishing doesn’t suit me, Mack. I’m too fancy for that. This beauty, on the other hand…” He beamed at the red liquid refracting the light from above. “Look at this pigment! Much richer than the other four!”
When Sully realized that no one was showing any interest, he cleared his throat. “Anyway, so Clint will join us in a few minutes. He was able to extract texts and the call logs. He’s finishing up a meeting now. Anything on the man in the video?”
“We’re getting there,” Mackenzie said. “We tracked down the shop where the jacket was purchased. A little dry-cleaner’s that functions as a boutique too. There are fifty-one potential people.”
“You need patrol officers going door to door?”
“To do what? Ask if they talked to Abby and when they obviously say no, move on to the next one?”
Sully rolled his eyes. “I’m giving you more resources, Mack. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“That’swastingresources. I’ll work on significantly narrowing down the list first.”
“Are you allowed to drink that at work?” Daniel gestured to the wine. “It looks excessive.”
“Of course I’m not. But once that clock strikes five, nothing’s stopping me.”
As they began discussing mundane hobbies and what to do around Lakemore, Mackenzie opened the email Becky had sent her. The PDF attached was the full autopsy report on Erica Perez. She scrolled down the brief summaries, the list of tools used, including their underlying assumptions, the sections of skeletal assessment and blood work, the dental section. She zoomed in on the screen. The dental records had also confirmed that the body was Erica’s. They had swabbed for particulates; Mackenzie didn’t fully understand the long, scientific terms, but Becky had already summarized them as common elements associated with the soil in the woods.
They’d also found some fabric in her mouth. That caught Mackenzie’s attention.
Microscopic testing couldn’t identify any pattern, but the colors were red and gold. The material was wool. Due to the microaerobic conditions in her mouth, the wool didn’t decompose entirely. But the clothes on her body decayed with rain, humidity, fluctuating temperatures—a particularly hot summer—and insect activity.
The crime lab concluded that the samples most likely came from Erica’s scarf. She was buried alive with it; it was plausible that it had made its way into her mouth.
Her family last saw her in blue jeans and a white blouse. She went to her room after dinner to sleep. Where had the scarf come from?
There was a knock on the door.
“Ah, come in!” Sully said.
Clint entered, holding his laptop. He nodded tentatively at everyone. “Sorry I’m late.”
“How was the meeting with the deputy state’s attorney?”
“Ron’s very temperamental. Good thing your husband was there, Detective Price,” he opened his laptop and began typing. “He’s good at handling him.”
Mackenzie gave him a tight smile. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nick glance at her. She stiffened and felt the wall between them grow taller.
“What do you have, Clint?” Mackenzie asked.
