Page 30 of The Lost Bones
EIGHTEEN
The wheels of the car chomped on the gravel lane before finally coming to a halt. Lakemore Elementary sat like a rectangular box on a green field surrounded by ancient and twisted oaks. It shared grounds with Lakemore Secondary, another matchbox-looking building right across from it. The sky was darkening early, beckoning a storm. Gray clouds whirled above with flashes of thunder, lightning illuminating the clouds from behind.
Mackenzie took a shaky breath, climbing out of the car and narrowing her eyes against the gusting the wind.
She had come here before several times. But today felt different. Today felt like she was stepping into her past. A nine-year-old Mackenzie dressed in her blue raincoat, her red hair in high pigtails. Tears streaking her cheeks. She blasted out through the doors and ran in the wind, her backpack bouncing. She was faint, translucent. Like a ghost. Mackenzie felt a jolt of pain. The pain left behind by cruel words on the malleable mind of a child. The pain of a thousand paper cuts.
“Mack?” Nick’s voice boomed over the wind.
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “Did you call ahead?”
He nodded, walking on. “The principal. She said we can talk to the caretaker. He’ll give us access to look around.”
“The caretaker?” She remembered the caretaker and wondered if it was the same man after all these years.
It was.
At the door stood a scrawny old man with no hair, dressed in baggy clothes and waving his hat at them.
“It’s Boothby,” Mackenzie whispered.
“Here you go, little one.”Boothby handed Mackenzie a lollipop.“Why aren’t you playing with your friends?”
“I don’t have any friends,” she said in a small voice, watching the others play tag.
“Special people belong to a special tribe. That’s hard to find.”
“Mr. Boothby?” Nick said as they entered the building and shut the door behind them. “I’m Detective Blackwood, and this is my partner—”
“Little one.” Boothby smiled. “I remember you.”
His skin was dotted and hanging loose. His eyes looked ghostly. Like very slowly life was leaving his body.
Mackenzie couldn’t help herself. She hugged him, feeling how frail he’d become. Despite his age, he gave her a good squeeze back. When she pulled away, Nick was watching them, puzzled.
“Mr. Boothby, I can’t believe you’re still here.”
“This school is my life. I was so proud to see you in that documentary.” He chuckled and looked at Nick. “I always knew she would do something great.”
“You know why we’re here,” Mackenzie ventured.
“Courtney.” He nodded, his smile dropping. “I remember every kid. Especially that one. She was nasty. Still. Horrible what happened.”
“We believe she might have been brought to the school,” she said. “I remember we used to make pompoms from yarn. Blue and red. Do the kids still make them?”
“Yes, yes.” He gestured them to follow. “In the crafts room.”
“What was that?” Nick whispered to Mackenzie as they walked.
“What?” She pretended not to follow, knowing where he was going with this.
“Mad Mack doesn’t go around giving people hugs.”
“I’m not a robot!”
“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “But since when do you hug people?”
She stopped in her tracks. “Doyouwant a hug?”
