Page 54 of The Lost Bones
Mackenzie felt a burst of relief that there was a logical explanation. “Well, that settles it.”
“Regarding Debbie.” Sully finally approached the topic while trying to fit a thread through a needle—his latest hobby. “Everyone who was there last night has been ordered not to disclose the message found on her face. We have requested that the crime-scene unit and medical examiner’s office share case files only with senior staff who can be trusted. We’re doing everything we can to ensure the details aren’t leaked.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Sully.” She crossed her legs, trying to make light of the situation. “I won’t sue the department if the information gets out.”
He paused and set the needle aside. “It’s not about lawsuits, Mack. It’s about your safety.”
“We’re back at that.”
“If word got out that Debbie was murdered as agiftto you, how many people do you think will come after you?”
The Hamiltons lived in a modest apartment in Lakemore. Judge Hamilton had been a vocal advocate for mental health since he was a young man in law school. Over the years, while other older people had refused to learn basics like how Facebook made money, Hamilton had adapted and used social media to hone his image and further important causes.
“Everyone likes Hamilton,” Nick said, walking up the carpeted staircase. “He’s one of the good ones.”
“Yeah, I guess posting things on social media makes you a nice person.” Mackenzie tightened her ponytail.
Nick stopped at the landing and turned around. “Spit it out. What happened with Sully?”
She paused a few steps below him. “How do you know?”
“Just your typical tendency to resort to sarcasm when you’re stressed out.”
Sully’s warning had stuck with her. Just when she was trying to be brave and face her fears head on, something else would happen that would almost undo her efforts.
“Sully told me that there might be serious consequences. Not just for the town, but for me personally.”
Nick didn’t say anything. He crossed his arms, brooding, before turning to knock on the door.
To Mackenzie’s surprise, the judge opened the door himself, dressed in tennis attire—white shorts and red polo. In her experience, whenever she visited high-profile people of interest, it was usually a lawyer or a secretary who greeted her.
“Judge Hamilton,” she said. “Your clerk told us you were working from home today.”
Hamilton was a short, lean man with gray hair but fairly young-looking skin. He had a gentle face, big doe-like eyes, a small nose and thin lips. Something about him screamed that he was a reliable person. Like he didn’t belong behind a bench, but in a classroom teaching young kids about the civil war.
“Yes, yes, I have a migraine today.” He gestured them to follow him to his office.
On the way, Mackenzie noted how basic his living arrangements were. The walls were covered in family pictures. The furniture was IKEA. The Persian rug was faded, with loose threads. He pushed open the double doors to his office. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with thick-spined law books. There was a large wooden table in the center with scratches and chipped polish.
“It was my great-grandfather’s.” Hamilton sat behind it, noticing Mackenzie’s interest. “Are you here about those warrants I didn’t sign? This is a bit unorthodox.”
“Actually, no.” Mackenzie pulled a chair next to Nick. “Do you own a house in Tombstone?”
She felt Nick glare at her. Even she hadn’t been expecting to dive into the topic right away. Usually when interrogating people familiar with the system, it was better to be tactful and manipulative. But her patience was wearing thin. She was done being pushed into a corner. She was ready to show some teeth.
Hamilton’s eye twitched. “Yes. I do.”
“Why?” she asked.
“What do you mean,why?”
“Real estate is usually a good investment, unless it’s in Tombstone. Prices will never go up there, and it’s hardly a place to get away.”
Hamilton glanced at Nick, who just shrugged. “That house has been in my wife’s family for three generations. We haven’t been able to sell it for the reason you just said.”
Nick cleared his throat, a sign to tell Mackenzie to cool down. “Judge, you know the case we’re on. There is a link to your house.”
“Dear God.” Hamilton looked appalled. “How?”
