“Do you want to take off your jacket and shoes, kid?”
He nodded, giving his jacket to Mackenzie to hang in the closet. The only other kid she was used to being around was Luna, who was three years older than Robbie and vastly different. While Luna was sassy and chatty, Robbie was reserved and meek.
“Do you want something to eat?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Twizzlers?”
He grinned and nodded eagerly.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” She tossed him some candy. “Do you like Lakemore?”
“It’s okay.” He was focused on ripping open the wrapper. “Dad says it’s like a person.”
“A person?”
“Yes, it has moods. He wants to study the moods.”
She thumbed through the files. “Every place is like that, I suppose. I lived in New York for a few years. Have you been there?”
He shook his head. “Do you have pictures?”
“I do!” She remembered that she still had a photo album in the attic. She hurried upstairs, suddenly overcome with excitement. The album was dusty, with the cover yellowing at the edges. When she returned, Robbie was sitting on the couch, his feet dangling.
She settled next to him, flipping through the pages, which hadn’t been touched for years. She showed him her grandmother, their old house, her school trips to Central Park, the view from the Empire State Building, the Freedom Tunnel, where she would go to seek refuge from stressful days, the hidden platform under Grand Central Station where she first tried a cigarette and coughed a lung out, that family-owned bakery in Little Italy she loved, and many, many other places. She told him stories, recalling snippets from her time there that she didn’t realize she still remembered. Memories buried deep still burned bright, like all this time all she had to do was light a match to see them. It almost brought a tear to her eye. She had spent so many years consumed by thoughts of Melody, and what had transpired that night in Lakemore, that she never realized she had lived a life. She had cried and laughed and danced and shouted, unaffected by the night she buried a body with her mother. All those moments when the past didn’t have its claws around her bones, holding her captive like a puppet.
The hour passed quickly, and Andrew returned.
“Hope he wasn’t a bother.”
“Not at all. It was nice to catch up,” she said without thinking.
“Can I use the restroom?” Robbie asked.
Mackenzie showed him where to go, while she and Andrew waited in the foyer. “How was Jane Doe? Did she say anything?”
“Nothing of use to the investigation into what happened to her.” Andrew flattened his mouth, disappointed. “It appears her PTSD has triggered selective mutism.”
“How long do you think it will take her to… heal?”
He shrugged. “There are no rules. Every mind is different.” Mackenzie frowned. “You’re not a fan of psychology, are you?” he asked, amused.
“I just don’t enjoy how abstract it is.”
“That’s a challenge!” he said cheerfully.
Before leaving, Robbie gave Mackenzie an unexpected hug. She felt something tug at her heart. A force trying to thaw the frozen muscles. He gave her that smile again—like they shared a deep secret.
She went back to work feeling lighter. If it weren’t for Robbie, she probably wouldn’t have realized that the evidence of a life lived had been sitting in this very house all along. A reminder that she was more than her mistakes and her violent past. She had spent so long focusing on her future without realizing that her past wasn’t something to run away from. Amidst the darkness, there was light there also.
Turning to Sophie’s browser history in the weeks before she went missing, Mackenzie noted nothing out of the ordinary. But then she saw it.
Aria Fields.
Aria Fields Colorado.
Aria Fields found.