Page 76 of The Lost Bones
“Do you know who they are?” Nick asked.
He pressed his lips in a thin line. “No. We can’t get anything from the websites. But I contacted the producers of the documentary, and they said they received many fan letters and emails. One of the emails was signedMack1987.” He showed them a copy. Even the email address wasMack1987and a combination of numbers and digits.
Did Detective Mackenzie Price talk at length off camera about her romantic life with Valerie Cohen? If so, what did she say?
“What the hell is this?” Mackenzie said, crumpling the paper in her hand, her voice strident. Valerie Cohen had interviewed her, and other detectives, for the documentary. She remembered how she had talked about almost every topic under the sun. Never had she thought someone would pay this close attention.
“Can we track the email address?” Nick asked.
Austin shook his head. “It’s not in use anymore. This was over two months ago. But I spoke with Valerie Cohen out of curiosity to see if anyone tried contacting her directly, and she said her home office was broken into.”
Just like Nick’s home office was broken into.
Mackenzie’s entire body tightened.
“Was there an investigation?” Nick asked, seemingly unruffled. Perhaps he hadn’t made the connection.
“Yeah, but it was a dead end. Nothing was taken. There were no cameras around.” Austin lifted a shoulder. “I’m pulling out the incident report to make sure.”
“We have no leads,” Mackenzie said in deep dismay.
“Turner has suggested keeping an eye on the blogs,” Austin said. “Mack1987 is still sporadically active. Maybe some comment will give us information on their identity.” His phone rang and he excused himself.
Mackenzie turned to Nick. “Is that why your office was broken into? To look for clues about my life?”
“Why wouldn’t they just break into your place?” Nick countered. “They’re more likely to find evidence there.”
It was a good point. Except after what had happened last year, she had installed cameras and extra locks. If this person had been watching, they might have noticed the security. Unless they had assumed…
“They could have drawn the conclusion that something’s going on between us,” she said, feeling squeamish at the cruel invasion of her life.
“Maybe.” To her surprise, he didn’t deny that that was a possibility. But she couldn’t think too much about it, because her phone buzzed with a message.
“Dr. Weiss has identified one of the victims from the mass grave.” She read aloud from her phone. “Phoebe Townsend. She was reported missing three years ago by her cousin.”
THIRTY-NINE
The car lurched forward as Mackenzie struggled to read the information she had found on her phone. Her motion sickness was at the cusp of being triggered. Usually Nick would moan about her reading in the car, but this time he didn’t say anything. The clock was ticking. They couldn’t afford to have another dead victim on their hands.
Phoebe Townsend was a twenty-year-old female who had enrolled in nursing school but then later quit to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming an actress. She had a pretty face, big cat-like eyes, and layered black hair. Something about her was very Old Hollywood. She was last seen in Seattle three years ago.
“The Seattle PD opened an investigation,” Mackenzie read from the HITS file she had downloaded on her phone. “But there were no witnesses, no evidence. It’s a cold case.”
“She was a wannabe actress last seen in Seattle but ended up in a mass grave in Lakemore dead from syphilis?” Nick wondered aloud. “How the hell does that happen?”
“Maybe her cousin can give us some answers.”
Nick rolled the car into downtown. The streets were choked with traffic. A loud, bustling gridlock. The contrast between sleepy Lakemore and a vibrant city like Seattle was jolting. Even the colors shone brighter, like light reflected better on surfaces here. Seattle was more familiar and comforting to Mackenzie when she’d initially moved to Lakemore. It was the closest thing she could find to New York—even though the two cities were nothing alike. She looked out the window, catching an old memory of walking holding Sterling’s hand. They’d often come here together to their favorite oyster bar.
Nick found parking, and they headed to a condo building that looked like a tall glass tower. Getting off on the top floor, they knocked on the door, and a young, well-built man wearing a gray hoodie and hair buzzed down to the scalp answered the door.
“We’re with the Lakemore PD.” Nick did the introductions. “You’re Luke Townsend?”
Luke’s face fell as he let them in. “Oh my God. It’s Phoebe, isn’t it? You found her?”
Seeing Mackenzie and Nick’s solemn expressions, he broke down in tears. “Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.” He fell onto a chair, his shoulders quaking.
Mackenzie took a moment to make a quick appraisal of the apartment, which looked like it was straight out of the IKEA catalogue. On the wall was a picture of Luke and Phoebe, taken many years ago.
