Page 13 of The Lost Bones
Within minutes, an ambulance pulled up and paramedics surrounded them. Mackenzie let them take the woman away and put her on a gurney. It terrified her how tiny she looked, a strange cross between a wraith and a child.
Mackenzie paced outside the hospital room. She could hear the faint murmur of activity behind the door—a monitor beeping, nurses talking, instruments rattling. Her mind raced, thinking about the moment she’d seen the woman stumble out of the woods. Before she’d passed out, she’d given Mackenzie a strange look, a look she couldn’t identify but that stuck with her.
The door whipped open and a doctor with salt-and-pepper hair came out with a somber expression.
“Detective Price?” He closed the door behind him.
“Yes, I rode the ambulance with her,” she said. “Is she going to be okay?”
He pressed his lips in a thin line. “I’m not sure. We definitely need to call in a psych consultant.”
“What about her physical condition? Was she attacked?”
He dropped his voice and ushered her around the corner, away from some people lingering in the hallway. “The patient isn’t cooperative at all. She hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. As such, we can’t administer a rape kit, even though I believe we should, considering her clothes were torn and there are bruises all over her.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
He shook his head. “Like I said, not a word. We keep asking her questions, but it’s like she’s not there.”
Mackenzie’s throat tightened, thinking about how scared the woman must be. “Do you mind if I give it a shot?”
“Please. Be my guest.”
Not that it mattered, but on instinct, Mackenzie fixed her hair and jacket. Her face wasn’t gentle. She was always stiff. Everything about her screamed “unapproachable”. But still, she tried to wear a softer expression when she entered the room.
The woman was on the bed with an IV stuck into her arm. A nurse practitioner stood next to her making a note of her vitals on the chart. She left the room when Mackenzie asked for privacy.
Mackenzie sat down by the bed. “My name is Mackenzie Price,” she said carefully. “How are you feeling?”
The woman didn’t reply. She just stared curiously.
“What’s your name?”
No response.
She was dressed in a hospital gown now; her clothes had been bagged for the police. There was no longer any dirt tangled in her hair. Her skin looked cleaner, without any smudges. Some bruises were covered with white tape, while the milder ones had had glistening ointment applied to them.
“There’s no need to be scared anymore. You’re safe now.”
Still nothing. She was like a wounded animal, watching Mackenzie with a curious reverence. There was no point in pushing anymore. Perhaps she needed rest. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
The woman lay back on the bed and brought the blanket up to her chin. Like a child being tucked in.
As Mackenzie turned to leave, something caught her eye. The woman’s bare foot was peeking out of the blanket. There was a tattoo around her ankle.
It was a barcode.
Mackenzie’s chest filled with ice as she looked at the woman, who mirrored her haunted expression. What on earth had happened to her?
NINE
APRIL 13
“The Lakemore PD is asking for assistance to locate a missing woman.” Debbie spoke to the camera in her shiny dyed hair and newly crafted nose. “Courtney Montenegro was last seen two nights ago around the Plaza. She has not been heard from since.” Courtney’s picture flashed on the screen next to her. “Neighbors have expressed concern for the thirty-three-year-old accountant, who is a mother to two young boys. This also marks the first disappearance in Lakemore in over three months.” Debbie’s switch in tone from concern to alarming wasn’t subtle. “If anyone has any information that can help, please contact this hotline.”
Mackenzie closed the tab and shook her head.
“Debbie’s planting the seeds for discord,” Detective Troy Clayton chirped from her side. With his mop of red hair, he almost looked like a stick of carrot intent on using light-hearted humor as a veil.
