Page 9 of Our Daughter's Bones
“Mrs. Correia?” Mackenzie said, and offered her hand. “I’m Detective Mackenzie Price from Lakemore PD. You already met Detective Armstrong earlier.”
Mrs. Correia’s eyes swept over her, head to toe. Mackenzie looked expensive, with her manicured nails, shiny hair, and ironed clothes. They were a sharp contrast.
A princess, they always said.
A fraud,she always thought.
“It’s Hannah,” she mumbled, and looked out the open window. She brought a cigarette to her mouth and sucked on it like her life depended on it. “I’ve given my statement already.”
Mackenzie pulled out a notepad and pen from her pocket. Hannah stared out the window. “Yes, I know. But we have to start from the beginning again. When was the last time you talked to Abby?”
“We texted around noon yesterday.”
“And when was the last time you saw her?”
“Yesterday morning. Breakfast.”
“And what time was that?”
“Around seven.”
Mackenzie scribbled and glanced at Justin. He watched Hannah with a deep frown.
“Why didn’t you report her missing when she didn’t come home from school yesterday?”
Hannah sighed and blew out smoke. “Sometimes she would go off with her friends after school. I left for my night shift at Remington’s around nine and came back this morning.”
“You work at Remington’s most nights?”
Hannah whipped her head to pin her with a hard stare. “You got a problem with that?”
“No. What do you do there exactly?”
“I’m a waitress, not a dancer.” Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Some people have to do odd things to support themselves. I wouldn’t expectyouto understand.”
Mackenzie bit her tongue. “Has Abby ever left like this before?”
“No.” With trembling hands, Hannah crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. “She’s a smart girl. Ambitious and hardworking. She’ll get us out of this hellhole.”
What an odd thing to say.Mackenzie and Justin exchanged a look.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Hannah, but for a single mother with a missing eighteen-year-old daughter, you look pretty calm.”
Hannah hesitated, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She tapped it but no white tube slipped out, and she threw the empty box across the room. She reached down beside her armchair for a fresh pack. She lit the end of a cigarette. After taking a few drags, her shoulders slumped.
“How do you know I’m a single mother?”
“I was raised by… well, you can spot a single mother in Lakemore. I know that look of exhaustion. Also, you’re not wearing a wedding ring.”
“Your accent is different.”
“I spent some years in New York.”
“You’re a fool for coming back to this place. I have no clue who her father is. When I was her age, I lost track of what I was doing, and who. But Abby isn’t like me. She’s very focused, very different. She’ll survive whatever might be happening to her right now.” Hannah’s face crumpled as she perched the cigarette between her lips and sucked until she started coughing.
Mackenzie patted her back. Justin went to the kitchen and brought her a glass of water.
“Thanks,” she said.
