Page 74 of Our Daughter's Bones
“We found a paper napkin with those numbers and a logo printed on them in Erica’s room. Quinn, was she part of any societies or anything like that?”
“Only on the cheerleading squad.”
“Is there anything else that you haven’t told us yet? Anything that can help?”
“No. Sorry, but I don’t know anything.”
“I hope you are satisfied for now.” Nathaniel stood up and dusted off his suit. “And I certainly hope that you don’t mistreat good men like David just to get to us.”
Nick shrugged. “Stop lying to us and being difficult, and I won’t arrestyoufor obstruction of justice.”
Nathaniel didn’t walk out the room; he barreled like a loose cannon rolling down a steep mountain, not shifting for anyone. Quinn walked with his head low and hands in his pockets. Mackenzie had seen the madness in his eyes when he had threatened Max.
“You were in a mood today,” she said to Nick.
“The coffee just hit me. And I didn’t like what happened there. Worked on this case for months to find out that I was lied to.” He dragged his hands down his face. “Jesus. What do you think?”
“I don’t think he killed Erica.”
“I think so too. But?”
“How did you know there was a but?”
He smirked. “There usually is with you.”
“He has a temper problem. A serious one.”
“You think he could have hurt Abby?”
“He hated her. It’s possible that they got into a fight, and he lost it. His alibi is being at football practice, but I trust his team to lie to protect him.”
“That would mean she isn’t alive, Mack. Quinn isn’t the type to keep someonecaptive.”
“I know. It also doesn’t explain Abby leaving the money and the phone at the gas station. Her paranoid behavior and the placebo pills. Would Quinn plan such an elaborate scheme to hurt Abby?”
“I doubt it. Then there’s the number 916. That doesn’t fit in either. Unless the person threatening Abby is different from the one who hurt her. Well, that was a waste of time.”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“We understand her better,” Mackenzie said, staring at Abby’s picture.
Thirty-Eight
Mackenzie stared at her reflection in the computer screen. She saw herself—what she and her life had become—how underneath her ironed and expensive clothes and prim manners resided a stricken and confused mind. She looked at the sharp edges of her reflection and wondered when she had become cynical and hardened.
What was the moment that destroyed her innocence? Was it when she realized that her father beat her mother? Or was it when she buried him? She was always wound up, afraid to be like others around her, afraid that she’d end up revealing too much.
Her heart felt like a block of ice in her chest. She was too used to muffling her emotions. She had lists and tasks. She understood determination. Maybe she never really understood love at all. All those moments with Sterling felt like a phase now. A lie. A mirage. They had slipped away from her grasp like a fading dream. Now, she scrambled to find out if they meant anything at all.
Was she even in love with Sterling anymore? Or was she just determined to keep her marriage intact?
“Detective Price?” Daniel said, walking into the office. “You okay?”
“Yeah! Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well. What’s up?”
“My guy got back to me. The picture you sent me of 916? That logo is not in our database. No known ties to organized crime or anything. But when I ran a search of the individual elements, I got a hit.”
