Mackenzie clicked her tongue.
“According to the statements from Alison’s mother and friend, Alison went voluntarily, so did Bella. Maybe all of them did—” Sully started before Nick interrupted him.
“But one of them turned up murdered. And the woman she was modeled on. That doesn’t bode well for the others, does it?”
Mackenzie skimmed through the details of the women whose faces were featured in the ads. All were in their thirties. Three were white and one was African American. Clint was able to identify them by running a reverse image search. One was a nurse, one a firefighter, another ran an educational institute for children with special needs, and the other was in legal aid. Each woman was accomplished and attractive.
“I have something too,” Mackenzie said.
“What do you mean? You were supposed to be on leave.” Sully’s eyes narrowed.
She updated them on her conversation with Becky and her short trip to the tattoo parlor in Kent. Sully’s scowl deepened. She had continued to work on the case despite being told not to. It might not have been an official violation, since she wasn’t on suspension, but it was insubordination, nonetheless.
“The original sequence was CBA3759. Bella rearranged it to 39A behind the left knee and B75C behind the right, and said it was to be taken seriously in case something went wrong,” Mackenzie informed them. “But I have no idea what it means.”
Nick wrote out the code on a piece of paper and pressed his lips together. “CBA stands for Cascadian Banking Association.”
“Yeah, I thought that, but then what are those four digits?”
“It’s a safety deposit box,” Sully said gruffly. “I have one with them, and it’s a four-digit number.”
“Bella was keeping something inside it, then,” Mackenzie beamed. “She must have changed the sequence to hide it from whoever she was in danger from.”
Nick agreed. “They have a branch in Lakemore and in Riverview. I’ll call both.”
“I’ll start getting the warrant ready.”
“Go ahead. Keep me in the loop. We have a few days of reprieve before the snow hits again. I’ll dispatch patrol to start looking into Woodburn again,” Sully said. “Thin ice, Mack. Thin ice.”
But Mackenzie wasn’t focusing on Sully’s warning. All she could think about was what Bella had left them in the safety deposit box and whether it would lead them to Alison.
Fifty-One
CBA confirmed the box was held at their Lakemore branch. Nick had already called ahead and informed the branch manager that they were coming in to inquire about a safety deposit box of a murder victim.
A green carpet covered the floor and tellers stood behind glass counters. There was a seating area across from the row of counters, and private rooms further in the back. Fluorescent lights cast a brighter than comfortable glow around the room. Screens mounted on the walls displayed advertisements for mortgages and student loans.
Mackenzie thought of all the assets she shared with Sterling. She hadn’t even begun to fathom how much work would be involved in divorcing him.
“Good day?” Nick’s voice was like a bucket of cold water on her thoughts.
“What?”
He pointed at her fingernails. They were cherry red with rounded edges and cuticles pushed back. “I did them myself last night.” She caught her reflection in one of the gleaming screens. She looked like herself after a very long time. Straight red hair pulled back in a high ponytail, devoid of any baby hair; an ironed blue pantsuit; hands moisturized and nails maintained; lips painted a light shade of pink; and eyes sharp and piercing.
Nick smirked. She appreciated him not probing.
Her phone buzzed.
Micky, I’m staying at the Miller Lodge. I know you don’t want anything to do with me, but I hope you change your mind. I’m not going anywhere.
Mackenzie ignored her father’s message. She knew he’d gone straight there after she kicked him out. She may not want anything to do with him, but she was still tracking his every move.
A skinny man dressed in a tweed suit with a nose like a pig’s snout marched toward them. “Detective Price?”
“Yes, you must be Mr. Lester. We talked on the phone. This is my partner, Detective Blackwood. Here’s the warrant.”
Lester glanced at it. “It’s unfortunate what happened. I didn’t know her, but she was one of our customers. Please follow me. I’ll direct you to where we have the safety deposit boxes.”
“Do you know when Isabella rented the safety deposit box from you?” Mackenzie inquired.
“I checked after speaking with you. It was in early October. She also opened a bank account with us, which was used to pay for the renting of the deposit box.”
“And how many times did she come to open the box?” Nick asked.
“Just once, when she first rented it.”
They turned a corner, and the hustle and bustle of the bank became muted. There was a maroon-colored door at the end of the hallway, with orbs of light casting onto the marble floor leading up to it. “Is that what she looked like?” Mackenzie opened the picture of Bella in the morgue on her phone. “Just to warn you, the image may be distressing.”
Lester’s stoic expression barely faltered as he glanced at the photo.
“Yes, that’s her.”
This meant that Bella had undergone procedures sometime between June and October.
“Any odd activities in her bank account? Suspicious deposits?” Nick asked.
Lester opened the door with a key. “No. I’ll give you her bank details, but her account had around a thousand dollars. No withdrawals and no deposits after the initial set-up.”
The room beyond the door had a table in the center. The walls were lined emerald-green boxes. Lester found the correct box, brought it to the table and unlocked it.
Mackenzie put on latex gloves and instructed Lester not to touch the contents. He obeyed and stood off to one side with his hands folded in front of him. Mackenzie’s senses spiked as she approached the box. She didn’t know what she expected to find inside.
It was another, smaller box—rusty and old. Her finger traced the lid and found the little catch. Fortunately, there wasn’t a lock, so they were saved the trouble of breaking it open. She twisted the catch.
Her heart skipped a beat. Photographs. Five of them.
Three were of a dilapidated shed surrounded by thick woods. The pictures were taken from different angles. It was small, made of badly painted wooden planks. The roof was uneven. There was a door with a handle made of rusted iron. Scratch marks and discoloration covered the outer walls.
It looked old, and the work of a novice.
The last two pictures made them freeze. They were of the inside—made clear by the same door as featured in the three pictures giving the external view. One interior picture was of a tray with surgical instruments—clamps, forceps, needles, speculums, and several other items Mackenzie didn’t recognize. The last picture was of what looked like a makeshift operating table, with bulbs above it. A shelf was visible behind it that housed vials and bottles.
“What the hell is this?” Nick gasped.
“This is where Bella underwent the cosmetic procedures.”
Fifty-Two
“Lakemore PD is being tight-lipped about what exactly led to the demise of the beloved Lakemore social activist, Katy Becker.” The anchor’s face, splattered with excessive makeup, popped up on the screen. “The police still consider the case to be open, but refuse to divulge more information. It seems like a bad winter and blowback from the Sharks’ withdrawal aren’t the only problems in Lakemore. There is another girl missing. Michelle Gable, thank you for joining us.”
The camera panned to Michelle, sitting next to Debbie, the anchor. Michelle was fidgeting with a handkerchief.
“Your daughter, Alison Gable, is missing, but you claim that Lakemore PD don’t consider her a missing person?”
“No… she left of her own will. But she hasn’t contac
ted me like she promised.”
“And have the police made any progress?”
“I…” Michelle looked around helplessly. “I don’t know. They are looking into her, I know that.”
“But you feel that Lakemore PD aren’t taking her disappearance seriously enough?” Debbie was egging Michelle on. It was obvious that she was using her to further her own agenda.
But then Michelle’s eyes narrowed and she set her jaw. She straightened and stared at the camera, all her nervousness evaporated. “I’m here to let everyone know that my daughter Alison Gable is missing and might be in danger.” She displayed her picture and the camera zoomed in. “This is Alison. She has a one-year-old son waiting for her. If anyone knows anything, please let the police know. I know they’re doing their best.”
Mackenzie closed the video on her computer, her muscles tense with stress. She was grateful for the support, and felt a pang of guilt for not having kept Michelle updated.
She made a quick phone call to her, reassuring her that they were following a lead and were that much closer to finding Alison.
Mackenzie and Nick had made copies of the pictures they’d found in Bella’s security deposit box and distributed them to the patrol team searching the park. They didn’t know where this shed was located, but Woodburn Park seemed like a good starting point. How long it would take to find it was beyond their control. Those woods were huge.
They had also sent the pictures to the Sheriff’s Office. Sometimes the SO assisted them with cases, and the deputies there knew the terrain and wooded areas of the county like the backs of their hands. They might catch a lucky break with them on board.
“Mack!” Nick poked his head over her cubicle wall. “Got the video footage from the bank.”
Mackenzie followed him with a renewed sense of purpose. “Does Clint need to clean it up?”
“Nah, the quality is good. Even though it’s black-and-white.” He angled the monitor toward her. The first camera was inside the bank, placed behind the tellers, overlooking the clients coming to their desks. The stamp showing the date and time were at the bottom. Nick clicked on a button, and the video started playing in fast forward, with people moving in and out of frame none too smoothly. For several minutes, they watched the hours go by on the video. Mackenzie’s eyes never left the screen. Like a blink would cause Bella to slip away from them. They also weren’t sure exactly how Bella would look. They knew what she looked like before the procedures and what she looked like after. But Dr. Preston had said that multiple procedures had taken place. She could also be bandaged.
Just when Mackenzie lost hope, a girl wearing a blouse appeared. “That’s her!”
Nick paused the video and scrutinized it. “Looks a hell of a lot like Katy.”
“Seems like by October she was done with most of the procedures. Maybe some minor corrections were remaining we can’t spot now.”
Nick cracked his neck. “She didn’t intend to take Katy’s place or anything. She opened the account in her own name.”
Mackenzie played the video. For the next few minutes, they watched Bella talk to the teller, show her ID, and sign some documents.
Her motivation was still a black hole—one of the key pieces in an investigation was missing. Nick played the video from the other camera. The frame showcased the entrance to the bank with a partial view of the street. They adjusted the timestamp to see when Bella would have entered and exited the bank.
When Bella exited the bank, she stood close to the door, looking at the street and checking her watch. “Looks like she’s waiting for someone.”
Then Bella’s hand went up in a wave. She stepped forward, to the edge of the frame, and opened a car door.
Mackenzie rubbed her fingertips in anticipation. Like the truth had brushed against her, and she was craving it again. She was so close.
Bella climbed inside the car and vanished from view.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “The car isn’t in the frame. Is there any other camera?”
“No. This is the best shot we have.” Nick flicked a pen and pinched the bridge of his nose.
All the enthusiasm drained from her.
“You know what I find strange?” Nick wondered aloud. “No one mistook her for Katy. She’s walking around Lakemore with her face.”
“Maybe she didn’t go out that often.”
“Or she wasn’t let out that often.” He gave her a knowing look.
“She got a tattoo and opened a bank account within months of Robbie delivering her.”
“And she waved at whoever picked her up.” Nick tapped the monitor. “Not the signs of someone held against their will.”
Captors didn’t allow their victims this level of freedom. Unless they were confident that they’d brainwashed their victims enough.
Mackenzie sat back in her chair and wheeled back to her cubicle. They were going in circles, and there were lives out there hanging in the balance—and a mother and child waiting for Alison to come home.
Later that night, Mackenzie sat across from Sterling, nerves jangling. Her shoulder wasn’t sore anymore. The swelling in the back of her head had gone down. But her insides were wound up tight. She stared at her husband’s handsome face, preparing for a conversation she never thought she’d have when they’d exchanged vows three years ago.
“Mack? What’s this about?” Sterling sounded hopeful. “Have you thought more about me moving back in?”
Mackenzie felt her ears burn. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. When she looked at him, his face fell. He knew where this was going.
“What can I do to make this work? Give me something.” His eyes searched hers.
“Sterling, you broke my trust once. What’s stopping you from doing it again?”
“I did it once. It doesn’t mean that I’ll do it again.”
A knot formed in her chest. Tears tickled the back of her throat, and she swallowed incessantly. “I know you believe that now. But that doesn’t make it true. What you did is something I can’t get past.”
He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes wild and desperate. He came around the kitchen island and held her hands. “Please, Mack. I’m so sorry. What we have is good. I’m a lawyer; you’re a cop. We have seen how ugly marriages can get.”
“It was good.” She didn’t wrench her hands free. A part of her wanted to comfort her crying husband. A part of her wanted to feel his touch one last time before she put the final nail in this relationship and walked away for good. Something was breaking inside her. And she blamed him for making her feel this way.
“I’ll make it better.”
“We’re going to have disagreements down the road. And every time you step out of the house, I’ll wonder if you’re going to screw someone else because you’re mad at me.”
He exhaled and dropped her hands. Heavy silence sat between them. She watched his face contort with helplessness. She couldn’t look away from his fingers. Long, thick, and dark with a splatter of hair on the knuckles. She inched her hand forward to touch him again. It was a delicate moment. A weak moment. And it was obliterated when she realized he was watching her, waiting for her to touch him.
“What changed, Mack? I thought we had a chance.”
She wiped a tear trickling down her cheek. “I can’t be with someone I don’t trust. And I know myself. I’m not one of those who can learn to trust again.”
What happened with her father was a harsh reminder. After Melody’s stinging betrayal, Mackenzie had realized that she was never going to be able to work it out with Sterling.
“You’re a good person, Sterling.” She kissed his cheek. “But love isn’t enough. This marriage is over.”
Sterling stood in the kitchen, immobilized. She walked away, her breath tearing in her throat, but knowing that she had made the right decision.
Fifty-Three
December 11
“I like Burt. I bet it’s going to be him,” Troy mused.
“Yeah
, except he’s failed his detective exam twice.” Finn rolled his eyes. “My money is on Leslie. She’s sharp as a tack.”
“I don’t know if we can handle that much estrogen around here, especially with a female lieutenant too.”
Mackenzie turned her head to pin Troy with a glare. Except he was looking at her with a big smile on his face. She picked up an eraser and threw it at his head. It smacked his temple and bounced back into her hand.
“Ouch!” he whined. “You know I said that just to piss you off, right?”
“I know. And you succeeded.”
Finn guffawed.
Sully was going to bring in a new detective. Bruce Stephens’ empty cubicle next to Ned was finally going to be occupied. Naturally, everyone was curious. But Sully was secretive. Mackenzie was looking forward to the new addition. The unit was often stretched too thin. But change was always uneasy. At least to her. The start of the year, she had a stable marriage and work life. Her father had been her constant companion in her mind. But it was something she could control, something that was predictable.
Now everything was different.
She got a message on her phone and looked back at Nick. “John Newman’s here. From the Sheriff’s Office. Maybe they’ve got something on the shed.”
“Let’s hope so. I’m losing my mind.” He picked up his coffee mug and walked out with Mackenzie.
John Newman was a rugged and strapping deputy sheriff dressed in khaki uniform. He was at least ten years older than Mackenzie and always wore a bone-melting smile on his face. He wasn’t married and had no intention to change that. He always reminded her of a stranger who whispered tantalizing promises at a bar.
Nick shook his hand. “John, haven’t seen you in a while.”
“It’s been a rough couple of months.” His voice was throaty. His mischievous eyes flew to Mackenzie. “Heard it’s been bad for you guys too.”
“It can always get worse in Lakemore. That’s the silver lining.” She glanced at the envelope in his hand. “You have something for us?”
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