Page 89 of Our Daughter's Bones
Was it only a coincidence that two of the burglaries happened at a time that the police could justify prioritizing them over other cases? Why did Peck forward partial information? Why did he discourage Troy from following up on Chloe?
Mackenzie felt tingles run along her skin. Like snakes crawling and leaving bite marks. She stared at Daphne and Chloe’s pictures, pinned to their respective files. Everyone had failed them.
Had it just been a case of bad calls made in the wake of unusual circumstances, or had there been a conspiracy to divert attention from them?
Forty-Eight
The Perez home was one of the few luxurious houses in Lakemore, in an area called Forest Hill. The cul-de-sac housed athletes, influential industrialists, and local politicians. Even Vincent Hawkins had lived there till he lost his reputation, six-figure salary, and eventually his house. The neighborhood was a bubble, a safe haven. The Italian-styled mansions, manicured gardens, iron gates, and Porsches were pleasing to the eye.
No matter how cold and wet it got, it was always spring in Forest Hill.
Mackenzie thought ofescapismas she sat on the plush couch in the living room. She looked down at her feet. They were nestled in thick Turkish carpet. The threads felt soft in-between her toes. She dared not rest her back on the cushion. She knew they were designed for style over comfort, likely imported from Germany.
The sunlight bounced off the Swarovski crystals in the overhead chandelier and shone brightly on Nick. He was unaffected by the wealth around him. He had grown up with it—born and bred in a family of senators. They were sourly disappointed when he announced he had no plans to continue the legacy. Instead, he wanted to help at a grassroots level. He realized that towns and cities don’t just need good governors and senators. They need good police officers.
“I’m sorry that you had to take off your shoes,” Gabriella settled a tray of tea on the table. “It’s just how we are.”
“Don’t worry about it. Your house is very beautiful,” Mackenzie said.
To Mackenzie’s concern, Gabriella looked thinner than she had at the funeral just a few days earlier. Her arms and legs lacked muscle and tissue, jutting out of her body like branches on a dying tree. She looked around her house. “Yeah. Well, all this doesn’t really mean anything. Does it? Please have some cookies.”
“They look delicious.”
“Thank you. Our friends and neighbors have been very kind. They have sent us so much food and care packages. We are well taken care of for several months to come.” Gabriella avoided looking at anything for long. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused.
“How’s Samuel doing?” Nick asked.
“He is… angry. He’ll disappear in his office for hours and come out with red eyes. I have never seen my husband cry. Erica meant the world to him. He always wanted a daughter. He talked to my belly all the time.” She touched her stomach absently before catching herself.
“Do you know if he’ll be joining us?”
“He’ll be out in a minute. He’s meeting with Arthur Bishop.”
“I thought they were rivals rather than friends,” Nick said.
“Oh, it’s business. Samuel hasn’t been as focused on work, and Atleum Holdings—that’s Bishop’s firm—outbid him on a plot of land. My husband wants it for his fishery and is now trying to buy it from Bishop.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Who even cares about that anymore.”
Next to Gabriella, on the end table, was a picture of Erica sitting on a horse. She was younger, perhaps thirteen.
Mackenzie felt bile rise in her throat. She’d rotted under the ground while her family searched the ends of earth for her. What were her last moments? What was her last thought? Did she close her eyes and remember her family before everything went dark? How long did she fight for?
Samuel Perez came out of his office wearing sweatpants and a Lakemore Sharks hoodie. His jaw was scruffy with beard. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. Behind him tailed Arthur Bishop in a loosely fitted suit.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Gabriella,” Arthur clasped her hands in his and tilted his head in sympathy. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I hope you find courage.”
She winced but nodded politely.
When he saw Nick, he shook his hand keenly. “Detective Blackwood! I wish you the best with this case.”
“Thanks, Mr. Bishop.”
He pressed his hands to his chest. “Please let me know if I can help at all.” He gave Samuel a quick hug and nodded at Mackenzie before leaving.
Mackenzie watched his back. There was something grossly insincere about Arthur Bishop. His polite mannerisms seemed rehearsed. His expressions were exaggerated.
“Asshole,” Samuel muttered, sitting down. “Don’t fall for his crap. He is the most cutthroat son of a bitch I know.”
“I’m guessing the meeting didn’t go well?” Gabriella asked.
