Page 75 of Our Daughter's Bones
“You did?” She straightened.
He put a report on her desk. The logo was dismantled into possible individual symbols and compared to the signs on the database. “The software breaks down the sign into smaller signs to check for combinations and modifications. This logo consists of two symbols,” he traced his finger on the paper. “These two: the Xs and the circle with the lines inside. Both have been slightly modified, but they’re Native American signs. They represent brotherhood and four stages of a man.”
Mackenzie’s insides curdled.
Brotherhood.
Four stages of a man.
Why were those words sinister? She couldn’t shrug off the feeling that there was something more twisted for her to discover. What had Abby stumbled into?
“Did Clint get any hits?” Daniel asked, leaning on her desk.
“Nope. No business uses this,” she sighed. “I’m not surprised. It sounds like a secret gentlemen’s club. But the crime lab is running some tests on the cocktail napkin. I think we’ll have something by tomorrow.”
“916 is your best bet?”
“Yeah. It’s the only suspicious and tangible clue that connects the two girls. Once we find out what it means, we’ll be closer.”
His knee bobbed in place. “W-what about Eddy Rowinski?”
“I couldn’t find anything that connects him with Abby or with Erica.”
“Guess that was just a coincidence then.”
“Yeah…” her voice trailed off.
Eddy Rowinski was like superglue stuck to her brain. Despite no concrete evidence against him, she couldn’t rule him out. But she questioned if that was just her bias; that she wanted him gone to save Clara, so she was looking for reasons to connect him to Abby’s disappearance beyond a chance encounter.
“I have to go to the courthouse for a bit.” She picked up her keys. “I’ll see you later.”
Mackenzie gazed at the slowly emptying parking lot. The sun glowed amber over the horizon. She had checked that Isaac was due to leave the courthouse soon.
Three songs and two granola bars later, she saw a wiry man wearing a tweed suit and carrying a leather briefcase walk briskly out the courthouse towards a red Camaro in desperate need of a wash. She jumped out her car and sprinted after him.
“Isaac! Isaac!” She weaved through the lot.
He turned around and frowned. “Detective Price?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“O-oh. Um.” He checked his watch. “Is this going to take long?”
“Not too long.” She showed him the file. “Remember this guy? Eddy Rowinski?”
Isaac’s face contorted. He wrinkled his nose and pouted. “A piece of shit if you ask me. What’d he do now?”
“Heard of Abigail Correia on the news? He was the last one to see her.”
“Really? You think he killed her?”
“She’s not dead.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “I mean… not that we know of. He denies doing anything more than passing the time of day with her, obviously, but I wanted more information on him.”
He shrugged and put his briefcase on the top of his car. “I don’t know what to tell you. He’s violent and erratic. I’d say he’s capable of anything.”
“Yet he only got community service and nine months when he could have faced up to a year in prison.”
“I’m as dumbfounded about that as you are. The judge ruled that the first offense was more of a misdemeanor. The second prison term was lenient too.”
