Page 59 of Our Daughter's Bones
She looked at the crescent-shaped scar on his right temple. “I was thinking about how you got that scar.”
A smile played on his lips, but he didn’t look at her. “Yeah, you did hit me pretty hard. Last time I’ll save you from a mugger.”
“I thought you were one too! Why were you wearing that black hoodie?”
“Who carries apipeon them, Mack?”
“A normal woman concerned for her safety.”
He smirked and eyed her jacket. “You still carrying a pipe?”
“I can use my gun now.”
“Not as effective as a pipe, though.”
“No way. Pipes are the deadliest weapons.”
“Not any grenades or nuclear warheads.”
They’d been close for almost a decade. Eight years ago, she’d taken a lateral transfer from New York to Lakemore. The day she stepped foot back in the town that hid her darkest secret, she attacked Nick, mistaking him for a mugger. The next day she discovered that they were coworkers.
She smiled, remembering their meeting. But when she sawhimsmile, she stopped herself. He noticed her change, because he ran his hand through his hair and blew out a breath.
She knew him too well. He knew her too well. So why had he kept things from her?
She pulled out Abby’s diary.
“Reading will make your motion sickness worse.”
Oh, you care about me now?she wanted to retort.
Dear diary
Honestly, I’m getting sick of everyone around me. There’s Hannah, still being lazy and flaky. Erica is being too naive and timid. The people in my class are too preoccupied with who got laid and who got more likes on Instagram. I am better than this. Why don’t they think? About their lives? About their dreams? Am I the only one who cares? Life is just one big chess game and I bet I’m the only one who plays. I bet these losers around me don’t even know the rules of the game.
“We’re here,” Nick pulled up in front of a ramshackle wood-clad house. The rain had suddenly died into a harmless drizzle, leaving the asphalt glistening. The smell of wet mud lingered in the air. It was Mackenzie’s favorite time—when the downpour had halted.
There was pristine clarity at this time. She could see everything just the way it was.
Eddy Rowinski lived at the edge of Lakemore, in the middle of nowhere. His house wasn’t large, but sat on a giant patch of land; the closest neighbor was at least two miles away.
The wooden porch creaked under their weight. The flimsy door rattled against the hinges when they banged it. Cobwebs were strung in the corners of the house.
A woman opened the door abruptly. “What do you want?”
Mackenzie froze. The woman had a deep cut on her lips, and her right hand was bandaged. When Nick flashed his badge, her eyes shifted nervously. “I didn’t call the police.”
“We know. We’re looking for Eddy Rowinski.”
“Who’s out there?” A voice damaged by excessive smoking called from inside. “Who you talkin’ to?”
“The Lakemore PD.” Her voice shook.
Eddy appeared at the door with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. Short hair dusted his tattooed scalp. Mackenzie’s eyes skimmed over his hand—a kidney-shaped mark was present on the back. This was their guy.
“Who called you?”
“No one,” Nick said. Eddy put his arm around the woman’s shoulders. “We have some questions. Can we come inside?”
