Page 26 of The Lost Bones
“It’s strange that your fiancée wouldn’t tell you about her missing twin.” Nick hitched a shoulder.
Austin’s nostrils flared. “So what? That means I killed her?”
“No,” Mackenzie insisted. “We’re not implying that.”
“Then whatareyou implying?” he snapped. “My fiancée disappeared, and then she was killed and left inyourcar, and I’m the one who is being treated like a suspect.”
She was taken aback. Despite her tall, broad frame, rivaling Austin’s, she almost cowered seeing the fire in his eyes. “You think I have something to do with this?”
“I think this is all happening because of you.” He lowered his voice, but his words were razor-sharp and cutting. “Everyone knows about the message left with the other victim too. Maybe if it weren’t for you, Sophie would still be alive.”
“Don’t.” Nick glared, his eyes turning black.
But Mackenzie was left splintered. Austin had voiced the thought she had been pushing to the back of her mind. He had spoken the words that perhaps everyone had been thinking.
“Enough!” Sully roared from behind them, cracking the bubble the four of them were in.
It was then that Mackenzie noticed several people watching.
“Kennedy, you’re supposed to meet with the DA,” Sully said sternly.
Austin’s gaze never wavered from Mackenzie. Grinding his jaw, he stomped away like a storm unleashed.
“Don’t listen to him,” Nick said with a deep scowl. But Mackenzie was still shaking like a leaf on the inside.
This is all happening because of you.
“You two need to head to the news studio right now,” Sully said with a twitch in his eye.
“What happened?” Mackenzie asked. Sully had mastered the art of a certain detachment in this job. He was diligent and thorough, but he was also aloof. But now he looked almost afraid.
“Apparently Debbie Arnold is missing.”
SIXTEEN
Debbie Arnold had started her career as an air hostess, but had caught the eye of a media mogul, who offered her a job as a weather person. She’d packed her bags and moved to Los Angeles, only to find out that the man expected her to sleep with him. After trying her luck in LA and failing, she moved to the rainy town of Lakemore, one of the few places in Washington she could afford on her dwindling bank balance. A stint on theLakemore Latestyielded a permanent job. But Debbie was hungry. Not satisfied with her segment on celebrity news, she waited and bided her time. And when, over a year ago, the first domino fell in Lakemore, she picked up the ball and ran with it. While other reports displayed sensitivity and professionalism, Debbie understood that news wasn’t just about spreading facts; it was showmanship and theater. It was a seduction. People didn’t want to interpret information and reach their own conclusions; they wanted to be told what to believe. Then they wanted those beliefs validated and engaged and dramatized.
That was why Debbie called herself a storyteller.
“Did you read her book?” Mackenzie asked, closing the Kindle app on her phone.
Nick scoffed. “No thanks. Have you seen the cover?”
“Yeah. It’s a close-up of her face. You can see every pore.”
“Sometimes it’s okay to judge a book by its cover.”
The studio was lit up like a light bulb against the black backdrop of the sky. Inside there was a hum of activity—mostly people scattered in groups and whispering frantically to each other. There was camera equipment and spools of wire everywhere, bright lights pointing at the stage, and screens with reruns from various channels.
A stocky man with thinning ginger hair, wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard, came up to them.
“Lakemore PD? I’m Dave. I called.”
Nick showed his badge. “We were told—”
“She’s not here!”
Mackenzie suppressed a groan. “Did you try calling her?” It was Debbie. Everyone knew she was acting too big for her boots.
