Page 61 of Our Daughter's Bones
“I know you’ve probably heard all of this before. Even if you never bring a child into this,youdon’t deserve this. But you tell yourself that life is unfair and accept your situation for what it is. I can help you change it. Please allow me to––”
“Don’t!” She fidgeted, speaking through gritted teeth. “You havenoidea how many people have given me the same damn lecture and offered me their help. No one helps. No onereallycares.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
She faltered. She had never told this to anyone. If she had, then she knew her mother would have become a suspect in her father’s disappearance. “My mother was beaten.”
“Look, I appreciate this. But nothing can be done.”
“I know you’re scared, but––”
“It’s not about me!” She licked her lips and took a shaky breath. “He always gets away with a lot of shit. I thought when he was arrested, he would go away for a while, but he gotcommunity service. The second time only nine months. It’s a joke. Fix your system first. Give me a guarantee that you can make sure he’ll stay away from me if I speak up against him. Until then, don’t make my life harder.”
Mackenzie eyed Eddy. His fist curled in his pocket. The tick in his jaw. His arms flexed. She felt her stomach turn. “Clara, flip me the bird before you walk away, and look mad.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
Clara did just that. Eddy leered and visibly relaxed. He kissed the top of her head when she joined him.
As Mackenzie walked away from the house, she found some solace in the fact that he wouldn’t hit her because of their conversation.
“There’s no way to confirm if he was telling the truth or not,” Nick said, looking back at the house as he kicked the engine.
In the side mirror, she spotted Eddy looking at them through the window. His image dwindled smaller. He never left.
Clara’s words repeated in her mind.
How did a junkie living in a dump get so damn lucky in court?
Thirty-One
The light from the lamp cast a dim glow in the room. Mackenzie could hear the faint music playing in the kitchen.Beethoven.Sterling was cooking. She checked the time on her phone. It was eleven in the evening.
That meant he was stressed. He coped by cooking, even if it was at odd hours of the night. One time she had woken up at three in the morning to the smell of shrimp.
She considered going downstairs and talking to him, but instead settled on the case file sitting on her bed.
The meeting with Eddy had left her unsettled.
Was he telling the truth about Abby? He could have been. She couldn’t think of anything else that someone like Eddy could want from someone like Abby. Their worlds were too distinct and far apart.
Unless Eddy had lied about backing off. He could have just gone after her. Perhaps she rejected him, and his bruised ego couldn’t handle it.
Too many what ifs.
She had enough reason to grind her jaw until her bones felt chafed. Picking up Erica’s case file, she skimmed through it again. She re-read whatever could be salvaged from Bruce’s notes, statements from friends and family, Becky and Anthony’s reports, and crime scene pictures. Her hand froze on a page with pictures of the remains.
Erica was reduced to bones and rotting tissue. Her yearbook picture was clipped to the top of the page. In that picture, she looked human; someone who loved, had dreams, nuances, and flaws. But underneath, everyone was just flesh and bones. The realization always made Mackenzie’s stomach roll.
If Robert’s remains were ever discovered, they would not look very different. It was odd that, on the inside, someone as innocent and kind as Erica was virtually the same as her vile father.
She turned the page to the pictures of Erica’s room. Nothing looked like it was out of place. There were posters of musicians on the walls. Teenage clutter. Normal, unlike Abby’s pristine, considered space. As her eyes scanned the scene, Mackenzie realized that Erica didn’t keep many pictures of her and Abby. There were a few, but not as many as in Abby’s room.
On the side table, there was a framed picture turned away from the bed. Like Erica didn’t want to look at it anymore.
