Page 45 of The Lost Bones
“And I build important relationships with our clients and make any necessary arrangements.”
“What relationships do you need to build? You’re a car rental company.” Nick egged him on.
“We’re not just any company,” Tag replied haughtily. “We organize events too.”
“Exclusive events?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yes. Not that you’ll ever get an invitation,” he scoffed, sitting back and puffing out his chest.
They were playing him like an instrument. It didn’t hurt that he was a twenty-year-old kid too full of himself.
“Do we need one of these for it?” Nick showed him a picture of the orange wristband.
Tag’s eyebrows dived low. “Where did you get that from?”
“A crime scene. A different one this time.” Mackenzie clicked her tongue. “Doesn’t look good, does it?”
“Unfortunately for us,” Nick said, “King of the Roadhas no virtual presence and is very difficult to find out about. Unfortunately foryou, you are clearly top dog there, so we can just focus on you. Makes it much easier.”
“So what? I’m under arrest now?” Tag challenged, but there was panic rising like a tide behind his eyes.
“You must have been watching the news. Debbie Arnold is missing.”
A beat of silence. Tag’s face changed like he’d connected some dots. “This is related to her?”
“You tell us. Was Debbie at these exclusive events you speak of?” Mackenzie met his eyes. “Did she rent out of one your expensive cars?”
Before Tag could answer the question, the door to the room clicked open and a short, bald man in a tweed suit walked in. Mackenzie instantly recognized him as defense lawyer Tom Cromwell.
“Don’t say anything, Mr. Stuart,” he ordered.
“What are you doing here?” Mackenzie asked, reeling from the whiplash of Cromwell appearing out of nowhere. Despite always being cheery, he was ruthless and only had high-profile clients.
“Representing Mr. Stuart.” Cromwell remained standing. Tag glanced at him, visibly regaining confidence. “You haven’t arrested him. He is under no obligation to answer your questions or even stay here.”
Tag stood up, smirking. “Such bullshit.”
“Next time you wish to speak to my client, do not do so without me. And no more tricks.” Cromwell waggled his forefinger like he was scolding children for stealing candy.
“And how exactly is he affording your expensive services?” Nick demanded.
“Pro bono!” Cromwell cackled. “Your move.” Just as quickly as he had arrived, disrupting their process, he whisked Tag away.
Mackenzie’s brain stuttered. She felt like she’d been trampled on. “What the hell just happened?”
“I think we rattled someone’s cage. The question is, whose?”
TWENTY-FIVE
APRIL 18
The sound of the blender filled Mackenzie’s home. With exhaustion threatening to force her eyes shut, she struggled to watch the berries dissolve in the green slush. She looked over her shoulder at the open case files, with several pages spilled out onto the floor. Debbie’s financial records. After returning home from yet another disappointing day at work, she had decided to immerse herself in the woman’s credit card statements. Debbie had made a lot of money in the last two years, far more than Mackenzie ever would. And her contribution to Lakemore was to rile them up for that one-hour special she did every night. Meanwhile Mackenzie risked her life and worked twenty-hour days to clean up the streets.
Waves of sleep were reaching out, trying to take her under. Even the shower hadn’t helped. She was guzzling her smoothie, trying to get energized, when the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone that early in the morning. She hesitated, then wrapped her hand around the knob.
“Austin?” she almost squealed.
He shouldered past her, despite not being invited inside. “We need to talk.”
