Page 18 of The Lost Bones
“Are you saying you never had alcohol before the age of twenty-one?” she challenged. When he fell silent, she turned away.
“I thought Mad Mack was a stickler for the rules.” Peterson smiled nervously, like he was gauging if it was acceptable to joke with her.
“Rules that make sense. Don’t tell me an eighteen-year-old can be trusted to get behind a wheel or decide who should run the country but not handle booze. It’s all political lobbying.”
Peterson pushed open the door to the barn. It made a creaking sound. Water dripped from the frame. The floor was sodden, the smell of hay and manure masked by the sweet tinge of wet mud. Mackenzie could only make out shadows, the darkness folding around equipment and doors.
When Peterson pointed the flashlight straight ahead, she gasped.
Courtney’s body was slumped in a chair in the middle of the barn. She was still dressed in the clothes she was last seen in. Her head lolled back. Her hands were tied to the arms of the chair. Her ankles bound. Her lips parted. As Mackenzie crept closer, she saw Courtney’s eyes. Blank and cloudy, they stared up at the dingy roof.
“Is Becky on the way?” she asked.
“Yes, she’ll reach us in about ten minutes.”
Mackenzie felt empty. She was transported back in time again, remembering Courtney as a young girl, mean and nasty, but alive. Never in a million years would she have imagined that this was how their story would end; that one day she would discover Courtney’s body tied up in an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere.
“Oh my God,” Peterson whispered.
“What?”
The light wasn’t pointing at Courtney anymore. It was directed to the wall behind the body. Mackenzie followed the beam and her blood ran cold. On the wall were words written in blood:
I will always protect you, Mackenzie.
TWELVE
“I will always protect you, Mackenzie.” Melody wiped Mackenzie’s tears. “Don’t cry.”
“He scares me,” Mackenzie whimpered, unable to stop her body from shaking. “What if he hits me like he hits you?”
Anger flashed in Melody’s eyes. She grabbed her daughter by the shoulders in an unforgiving grip. “Never.”
Mackenzie shuddered out of the memory and wrapped her hands around the steaming cup of hot cocoa. She was in the conference room at the station. Again. A body had been found with a message for her. Again. The news was already spreading like wildfire. Again.
Nick dropped another blanket around her shoulders. “Are you feeling better?”
She still hadn’t entirely snapped out of her daze. She was aware of her surroundings and registering conversations, but it was all diluted and hazy. Like it was a dream on the brink of being forgotten.
“How is she?” Rivera entered the room, dark hair tied in a messy ponytail and shirt inside out. She had clearly just rolled out of bed.
“She’s processing. She’ll be fine,” Nick answered, drumming his fingers.
“What happened?”
“I got a call from Becky that Mack was staring at that message on the wall and not responding. She figured she’d gone into some kind of shock. I got there as soon as I could and brought her here.”
“I don’t blame her,” Rivera said, pity coloring her tone. “Second body in less than a week with a message for her. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know.” Nick leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers. “Mackenzie?” he whispered. He rarely called her by her full name. She turned to look at him, realizing he was closer than she had expected. Lines of concern creased his forehead. His black eyes were like pools of ink. She knew what he saw inhereyes.
Fear.
But what she saw in his scared her more.
She pulled back, feeling too exposed and raw. “The homicides are linked,” she said in a determined tone. “I want to be on the case.” Rivera looked reluctant. She opened her mouth to argue, but Mackenzie stood up and spoke over her. “I won’t sit this one out, Lieutenant. If you keep me off the case, I’ll defy orders.”
“Then I’ll suspend you, Detective,” Rivera countered.
