Tears streamed down her cheeks. A fog of grief consumed her. She looked around for something. She didn’t know what to do. It was a suffocating realization that there was nothing left to do. That night had sealed her fate.
“Where did his body go? We buried him here.”
“Your behavior concerned Melody. She was worried you might spill to someone. After sending you off to New York, she moved the body so that you would be discredited if you told anyone.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I was keeping a low profile when the police got involved. It was complicated enough. Robert Price had also been reported missing by his family in Salem when he didn’t return.”
“How many lies did she tell?”
“I don’t know, Micky. The truth was that after that night, we had a big falling out,” he admitted. “I didn’t like how she had involved you. She said she didn’t have a choice. But still… it wasn’t right. She never told me where she buried him. And then I left for Vegas. Everything I told you about my last twenty years is true.”
“D-did he know? That I wasn’t his?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I should have remembered him,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.
“Your childhood was traumatic, Micky. And then that night, it damaged you. You suppressed parts of it. It happens, but now that you know, it will come back to you.”
She touched her hair—a faint memory of Robert braiding it, tugging on it when he was done.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Charles closed his eyes. When they opened, there were tears pooling in them. “I took so much from you. Your childhood. I wanted to spare you more suffering. It was the least I could do. What I never anticipated was that I’d run into someone from the past. Thought twenty years was a long time for people to forget everything.”
The real Robert Price was also her father—a good parent who Melody had kept away. “I can’t believe I did this. I buried him. I… I buried him.”
“You didn’t know! That night wasn’t your fault. She coerced you.”
But Mackenzie wasn’t listening. There was a brick wall in her ears. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel guilty for being relieved at Melody’s fate. “Why did you come back?”
“I’m an old man, Micky. I just wanted to be with family. I-I’m so sorry for everything. You didn’t deserve this. Nobody does.”
“You need to leave.”
Silence.
Wind rustled in the trees around them—the only witnesses to her crime, and now the truth. Charles’s shoulders slumped. There was no flicker of surprise on his face. “Micky, please.”
She looked up. The clouds thinned and floated away to bare the moon. From the corner of her eye, she saw a man’s hand drift up and point at the sky.
M-o-o-n, Mack.
“No. I don’t want to see you ever again. Go back, pack your bags and leave by tomorrow morning.” She wobbled, standing up, zapping back into the present. “I’ll give you some money if you need it. But you need to stay away from me forever.”
Charles opened his mouth to argue but wisely didn’t. Mackenzie wondered what he saw in her. If her madness and devastation was palpable. Walking out of the woods, she felt like she was dragging a pile of tires behind her.
It was the weight of the truth.
Forty-Nine
December 9
Mackenzie wiped the fogged-up mirror above the sink. Dark circles caked her eyes. Her eyelashes stuck together in clumps. She put on her makeup, remembering how it was Melody who had taught her to hide behind layers of foundation and color. There were still so many unanswered questions—how had Melody handled the authorities? It was clear why she had sent Mackenzie away. And where was Robert’s body now? Did Charles really not know?
She took a quivering breath. There was only one way to keep it together—to lock everything up in a drawer in her brain. Apparently, she had done exactly that growing up, without even realizing it. Tucked away the fading memories of Robert somewhere deep down.
She couldn’t help but see the parallel between her and Katy. Both of them had lost someone important at four years old. Over the years, Katy’s parents erased all memory of Kim, but Katy had always felt something was missing. An echo. That’s what Robert had been reduced to over the years. Melody had done everything in her power to remove his traces—uprooted them from Salem, kept his family away, and never even kept a photograph of him. But Mackenzie cherished the first memory she had of her father. She had thought that memory in the garden was of Charles, but it was of Robert. She found some solace in the fact that she hadn’t completely forgotten him. He was still there.
Mackenzie was stuck in traffic. A gridlock of cars covered the expanse of the highway, the flooding causing havoc. She turned on the radio but even the signal was poor.
Nick’s car was straight ahead. She wondered if he knew she was following him.
Drumming her fingers to a random rhythm on the wheel, her mind wandered. She glanced at the car next to her. A middle-aged man stared ahead at the traffic. His young kid was in a car seat in the back, playing with a miniature-sized football. The father looked at his son through the rearview mirror and smiled with twinkling eyes.
A honk pulled her out of her trance. The cars were moving. She continued to tail Nick. He turned off the highway, entering a commercial complex with a mixture of warehouses, small offices, and other businesses. More concrete than green. A not uncommon sight.
Nick parked his car and got out. He waved at Mackenzie with a mocking smile.
He knew.
Sighing, she parked next to him and climbed out.
“You followed me.” His voice boomed over the clashing rain.
“You wouldn’t take me with you.”
“You’re on leave. It’s just one more day, Mack. You’re back tomorrow,” he reminded her for the millionth time.
“I’m here to observe, not participate.”
Nick pressed his lips together. “Go home.”
“Please. I can’t stay away. Throw me a bone.”
Nick looked conflicted. Mackenzie suppressed the urge to stomp her feet in protest. He wagged a finger in her face. “You’re not going to ask any questions.”
“Deal.”
“I’m taking the lead here.”
“Done.”
“And if you go back on your word, I’ll personally haul your ass out of there and make sure you drive back home.”
“Understood.”
The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. She knew he liked having her around.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
“Remember I told you how Elfman had information on a lot of women on his computer?”
“Yeah.”
“One of them is Elisa James. She’s currently working at the laser hair-removal clinic over there.”
“He stalked her?”
They started walking together toward one of the buildings. “No. He dated her.” He handed Mackenzie his phone. “Scroll through these.”
She swiped over a series of photos. Elisa James had a scrawny face with hollowed cheeks, but full lips. Her light brown hair had highlights and fell to her chin. Some were selfies of her and Robbie Elfman, and others were photographs of her at restaurants, curled up on the couch with a book, or grilling in the backyard. In all of them, she smiled at the camera, content at being snapped.
“I can’t picture Robbie dating anyone,” Mackenzie said, feeling a little queasy at the thought.
The man she’d met was a delusional stalker living in a near-derelict house with Katy’s picture plastered to every wall. Not exactly boyfriend material.
“Maybe he hadn’t gone full psycho back then,” Nick said as they entered a clinic with blinding white walls and furniture. A cheery receptionist guided them into another room.
Mackenzie tailed Nick, knowing he’d meant every word and intending to let him lead. She analyzed the
laser clinic, its walls showing pictures of smooth legs and arms. There was a shelf with skincare products—various serums and creams, including a collection of hyaluronic acid serums. A common ingredient in a dermatological clinic.
“Where’s she from?” Mackenzie asked.
“Thirty-one-year-old from Olympia. Went to nursing school in Seattle. No record.”
“Nursing school?”
“She’s a registered cosmetic nurse.” Nick gave her a knowing look. “Worked at the practice of a facial cosmetic surgeon for two years.”
“She could have picked up some skills in that time,” Mackenzie said. “But enough to perform the actual procedures?”
Since Jenna’s hunt for the doctor had turned up dry, they had considered the alternative. There was a chance that maybe their perpetrator was performing the enhancement themselves, instead of taking the women to a professional.
Elisa James entered the room wearing scrubs and carrying a file. Her short hair was pulled back in a ponytail, highlighting the splatter of freckles on her cheeks.
Nick made the introductions, with Mackenzie giving her a curt nod. She was strictly here to observe; Nick was already going out on a limb for her.
“I need to talk to you about Robbie Elfman. You were in a relationship with him?”
Elisa’s eyes flicked between Nick and Mackenzie. Her grip on the file tightened. “What about him?”
“How long were you involved for?”
“Around six months. Five years ago, I think.”
Mackenzie couldn’t fathom why someone like Elisa, an educated woman and seemingly well put together, would date someone like Robbie.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you and Robbie are… very different,” Nick said, clearly thinking the same thing. “How did you meet?”
She shrugged. “We met at a bar one night and just hit it off. He’s kind of a fixer-upper, but he would always go out of his way to help me out, take care of things for me, or just listen. I needed that.”
“Can I ask why the relationship ended?”
“He’s kind of a sheep. And he got really clingy.”
Mackenzie leaned against the wall, taking in Elisa’s glossy hair and manicured nails. A stark contrast to Robbie’s squalid appearance. But there was something about her expression that rubbed Mackenzie the wrong way. No spark of nostalgia when she spoke of Robbie and no hint of nervousness speaking to the police. Not that Mackenzie hadn’t dealt with her share of witnesses with a tough exterior to crack, but there was no toughness to Elisa. There was only detachment. Her relationship with him was brief and a long time ago; Mackenzie believed she had moved on.
“Did Robbie ever do anything strange or scary?” Nick asked.
She pursed her lips. “He was too clingy, too attentive. Liked to watch me sleep. It frightened me, but he never hurt me.”
Nick dabbed his pockets, mindlessly. Mackenzie knew it was his tick—something was bothering him. “He didn’t follow you around or harass you after you broke up?”
“He showed up a couple of times, at my place of work at the time. I didn’t press charges because I felt bad for him. He’s bad at being on his own.”
“And when was the last time you were in contact with him?”
“Three months after we broke up.” She paused. “I had a rough childhood. It’s probably why I gravitated toward him. It was a mistake.”
When Nick ended his inquiry, Elisa extended her hand to Mackenzie. “Nice meeting you, Detective Price.”
“You too,” she murmured.
When Elisa reached the door, she turned around, her face curious. “What did Robbie do?”
“He’s facing a stalking and harassment charge. We’re just looking into his past behavior.”
“Too bad. Good luck.” She shut the door behind her.
“What?” Mackenzie asked Nick, who was staring at the chair Elisa had been sitting on.
A muscle in his jaw pounded. “Took her long enough to ask why we were here, didn’t it? I have to head to Seattle to knock on some doors with Ethan Spitz. I would say don’t rush back to the office until you’re well, but I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.”
Fifty
December 10
With her medical leave behind her, Mackenzie felt confident when she walked into the station. Mindlessly, she nodded at the bustling officers greeting her. Mindfully, she ignored the lingering stares directed at her.
“Wow.” Troy’s eyes went wide. “That concussion really did a number on you.”
“Shut up,” she grumbled, and dropped her bag on her desk.
“Okay, now I’m really concerned.” Troy spun around and nudged her to face him with his foot. “Seriously. I’ve never had a concussion. Did your brain rewire? Even your face looks different.”
She was about to retort, when a familiar sight clouded her peripheral vision. She almost didn’t recognize him at first. But that grating laughter was unmistakably Bruce Stephens, a retired detective. His appearance was radically different. He was wearing a peacoat, and underneath a fedora his once-white hair was dyed black. His pale skin had turned bronze.
Troy followed her alarmed gaze and snickered. “I know, right? That’s what having a twenty-something girlfriend does to you when you’re over sixty.”
“Why is he here? I thought he was on some world tour?”
“The FBI hauled him back here for questioning.”
The word was that the FBI was busy looking into the mayor’s office. Being at the bottom of the totem pole, Mackenzie didn’t know the details of their investigation. There were rumors and theories shared over lunches and smoke breaks. But facts were molded with notions, making everything unreliable. It was almost a relief not to see the FBI hovering around them. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Mad Mack!” Bruce guffawed. “I’m glad I caught you. Heard you were on suspension?”
“Medical leave.” She gritted her teeth, but gave him a cursory hug. They had worked together for years. “How’s the world across the Pacific?”
“Oh, it’s glorious!” he boasted. “You know, there’s this village in Kenya called Umoja, where only women are allowed to live. It was founded by some rape survivors and has become a home to women escaping child marriage, domestic violence, genital mutilation, and so on. It’s fascinating. Heartbreaking, but amazing what these women have done.” He took out a necklace from his pocket. It was a string with vividly colored circular beads. “This is for you.”
“For me?” She took the necklace, puzzled.
“There’s this woman there. She told me her story under the tree of speech, where they get together to make decisions.” His forefinger lightly traced his thin lips while his eyes stayed glued to the necklace. “When she was twelve years old, her parents sold her to a fifty-year-old man. He would beat and rape her. A year later, she gave birth to a son. It took her three years to escape her husband. And it was after several failed attempts. Let’s just say, she lost an eye and the ability to bear more children.”
Mackenzie’s heart squeezed. “Did she make this?”
“Yes. She’s training to be a doctor, you know. An impressive woman.”
“Why did you give me this?” Her voice was small.
Bruce smiled, like they shared a secret. “She had this look of determination on her face. I’ve only seen that look on one other person in my life.”
She looked at the bright necklace in her fingers, feeling suddenly that this was the most valuable thing she owned. “Thanks.”
Troy interjected. “No gifts for us from Kenya, Stephens?”
“A donkey reminded me of you, Troy. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to bring it with me.”
He laughed. “And now you owe me a beer. What did the FBI ask you?”
“They’re interested in seeing if there were any leaks from this office and if anyone buried Sharks-related complaints and cases. They were looking into uniform, but based on their question
s, I think now they’re turning their focus to the crime lab.”
“Really?”
“Anything’s possible with that case.”
Mackenzie stuffed the necklace in her pocket. “It’s like one day we realized that everyone in this town is corrupt.”
“Except you,” Troy teased. “You’re incorruptible.”
She couldn’t even find it in her to give him a disingenuous smile. The weight of the necklace in her pocket was heavy. A jarring reminder of what Bruce saw in her—and what she knew a lot of people did. No matter how hard life tried to pull her down, she knew she had to keep standing tall. Failure wasn’t an option.
The door to Sully’s office opened, and Nick gestured for her to come in.
“See you later, Bruce.”
Inside Sully’s office, Nick was sitting on a chair with an exasperated look on his face. It took her a second to spot Sully. He was bent down behind his desk, only the bulging arch of his back visible. She heard him grunt and leaned over to find him fiddling with gravity boots.
“You decided to exercise, Sergeant?”
Sully gave up and straightened. “I got tricked into this.”
“How come?”
“Pam told me to buy these, and I got all excited thinking they make you feel like you’re in reduced gravity or something. But now I spent all this money I have to make use of them.”
“You thought they’d help you float?” Nick chuckled.
Sully ignored him and looked at Mackenzie. “You look better.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to tell her, Nick? Or should I?”
She looked between them. “Tell me what?”
“I was in Seattle helping out Ethan Spitz.” Nick crumpled an unlit cigarette in his palm. “He had interviewed Tamara Wilson’s sister, but that was a dead end. He needed help running down some leads, like her pimp and her clients. But either they don’t know anything, or they don’t want to talk.”
Their Frozen Graves: A completely addictive crime thriller and mystery novel Page 24