Page 81 of The Lost Bones
Last night, they had watched a few more DVDs and discovered that they all shared the same pattern. A man convinced a young woman to engage in sexual activities in exchange for industry contacts. None of the women seemed to have any idea they were being recorded. Once they were done, the man promised to be in touch and dismissed them.
Were those women anything to do with the ones Mackenzie had seen in that house? Or were they the ones in the mass grave? All she knew was that the events unfolding were making her insides hurt. She closed her eyes, thinking about all those women dead from treatable infections. Buried there so callously, like animals that were no longer of any use.
“Detective Price?” Andrew’s voice came from the driveway.
Mackenzie exited the weeping willow. “Hey, thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” He looked at the house behind her. “That’s a nice place you got here.” He made that face again, like he was trying to piece her together. Despite her improving relationship with him, that was something she still hadn’t warmed to. “Did your parents plant that tree?”
“Excuse me?”
“You looked like you were trying to find refuge in there.” He raised his eyebrows at the weeping willow. “When people feel unsafe, they return to childhood memories associated with their parents, who used to make them feel safe.”
Mackenzie blinked, and the sound of Melody shrieking as her head smashed against the mirror rang in her ears. But then she recalled that memory—one of her earliest—of Robert planting seeds in the soil from which a Douglas fir later grew.
“My parents didn’t spend a lot of time making me feel safe.” She held back a bitter bark of laughter.
“Huh. Your grandmother, then?” When Mackenzie fidgeted, he relented. “You don’t have to answer me. I don’t mean to intrude. Besides, it’s a perfectly healthy habit.”
“You think so?” She snorted. For some reason, she felt like nothing she did was healthy. She had focused on perfecting her exterior and somewhere deep down had let her mind run amok.
“It’s the familiar things we hold on to in times of uncertainty.” He looked around at her quiet neighborhood, brimming with morning activities. “Familiar things or people. When my wife passed away, it was Robbie that kept me going. I held on to him like a life raft.”
“You’re lucky to have him.” She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at the house, which suddenly seemed far too big for one person.
“From what I can tell, you have someone too.” Andrew’s smile was almost teasing. Mackenzie’s heart skidded, but he didn’t linger on the topic. “I just visited our Jane Doe today.”
“How is she? Has she told you anything?”
“No.” He looked disappointed. “In fact, I was going to talk to the lieutenant about letting some agency or organization take over.”
“Why?” she demanded, disturbed. “I mean, is it okay to just let her go?”
“She’s much better now. She talks, but nothing about her past or who she is.” He flattened his mouth. “It’s clear she is healing, but she continues to dissociate from her past. I believe she should be rehabilitated, set up with a place of her own, a job.”
“But what about the case?” Mackenzie crossed her arms. Only she and Nick knew of Jane Doe’s connection to Hamilton and their investigation.
“It will remain open with no active line of inquiries.” He shrugged. “I know you took her out yesterday. Did she tell you anything?”
Mackenzie shook her head. It felt too heavy on her shoulders. Like her body was weighed down by the lies and secrets. But she wanted to keep things close to her chest for now.
“Well, then we can’t do anything.”
She nodded. “I needed a favor from you.”
He blinked. “Okay, sure.”
She handed him a USB stick. “This contains some videos from the last ten years. Can you show them to Jane Doe and ask her if she recognizes anyone?”
Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “Why? I didn’t know you were on her case too. Did you find something?”
“No. Not really. I’m not allowed to discuss details, since you’re technically a consultant, but I’m just following a hunch.” She lied through her teeth.
Andrew clearly wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t protest further.
Cameron Fletcher lived in a rustic house atop a hill in Tacoma. Mackenzie envied the view he had. White-tipped crests whipped by the wind lapping against the sharp outline of the coast. A knot of trees not too far from the shoreline. This place was remote. It was exactly what she needed after this case was over.
Except when she stepped inside the house, she realized that this wasn’t a house built for escape, but one to hide in. The dusty, stale air and the dilapidated state of the building spelled defeat.
