Mackenzie could spot some discoloration in the house’s white paintwork. Cracks ran down next to the hinge of the front door. The porch railing was shabbily painted, with splinters of wood still visible. The fence around the garden was crooked.
It was a poor household. Just like hers was once.
Justin Armstrong, a junior detective, stood in front of the house. A bushy mustache covered his upper lip. Wavy eyebrows crowned his blue eyes. As soon as he saw her, he rushed forward.
“Ma’am.” He tipped his head. Before Mackenzie could protest, he handed her the incident report. “Eighteen-year-old Abigail Correia, called Abby, was last seen at 3:20 p.m. yesterday, September eleventh, leaving Lakemore High on foot. She was dressed in a yellow sleeveless top, blue jeans, black boots, and was carrying a red backpack. Her phone has been switched off.”
Mackenzie looked over the initial information. “Any history of running away before?”
“None.”
“How’s she eighteen years old already?”
“Date of birth puts her just three days after the cutoff date. She started school at the age of six.”
“How’s the mother?”
He raised his eyebrows. “She doesn’t like to cry in front of people.”
Mackenzie wondered what the story was inside. If there was a father who had drunk himself to uselessness, and a mother who asked too much from her daughter.
They stepped inside the house. It was unspectacular. Old furnishings crowded the living room. A large brown couch rested along the wall, tears in the upholstery revealing yellowing foam underneath. There were too many tables, all of which were littered with figurines and showpieces. It gave Mackenzie a headache.
On one of the armchairs by the window was a middle-aged woman wearing faded blue jeans and a loose white shirt. Her dirty-blonde hair was shoulder length—dry, dull, and ropy. Chipped nail polish tailed her calloused hands. She turned to look at them with beady eyes.
She looked haggard and bitter.
“Mrs. Correia?” Mackenzie said, and offered her hand. “I’m Detective Mackenzie Price from Lakemore PD. You already met Detective Armstrong earlier.”
Mrs. Correia’s eyes swept over her, head to toe. Mackenzie looked expensive, with her manicured nails, shiny hair, and ironed clothes. They were a sharp contrast.
A princess, they always said.
A fraud, she always thought.
“It’s Hannah,” she mumbled, and looked out the open window. She brought a cigarette to her mouth and sucked on it like her life depended on it. “I’ve given my statement already.”
Mackenzie pulled out a notepad and pen from her pocket. Hannah stared out the window. “Yes, I know. But we have to start from the beginning again. When was the last time you talked to Abby?”
“We texted around noon yesterday.”
“And when was the last time you saw her?”
“Yesterday morning. Breakfast.”
“And what time was that?”
“Around seven.”
Mackenzie scribbled and glanced at Justin. He watched Hannah with a deep frown.
“Why didn’t you report her missing when she didn’t come home from school yesterday?”
Hannah sighed and blew out smoke. “Sometimes she would go off with her friends after school. I left for my night shift at Remington’s around nine and came back this morning.”
“You work at Remington’s most nights?”
Hannah whipped her head to pin her with a hard stare. “You got a problem with that?”
“No. What do you do there exactly?”
“I’m a waitress, not a dancer.” Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Some people have to do odd things to support themselves. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Mackenzie bit her tongue. “Has Abby ever left like this before?”
“No.” With trembling hands, Hannah crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. “She’s a smart girl. Ambitious and hardworking. She’ll get us out of this hellhole.”
What an odd thing to say. Mackenzie and Justin exchanged a look.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Hannah, but for a single mother with a missing eighteen-year-old daughter, you look pretty calm.”
Hannah hesitated, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She tapped it but no white tube slipped out, and she threw the empty box across the room. She reached down beside her armchair for a fresh pack. She lit the end of a cigarette. After taking a few drags, her shoulders slumped.
“How do you know I’m a single mother?”
“I was raised by… well, you can spot a single mother in Lakemore. I know that look of exhaustion. Also, you’re not wearing a wedding ring.”
“Your accent is different.”
“I spent some years in New York.”
“You’re a fool for coming back to this place. I have no clue who her father is. When I was her age, I lost track of what I was doing, and who. But Abby isn’t like me. She’s very focused, very different. She’ll survive whatever might be happening to her right now.” Hannah’s face crumpled as she perched the cigarette between her lips and sucked until she started coughing.
Mackenzie patted her back. Justin went to the kitchen and brought her a glass of water.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Does she have a boyfriend?”
“No. She isn’t like that.”
“Parents are usually unaware of what their kids are up to.”
Hannah smirked. “I never said she was a good girl, Detective. I said she was a smart girl. Having a boyfriend is a waste of time to her.”
“Well, we would like to look around her room if we have your permission. Was she acting any different these past few days?”
“Past few days? More like the past year. Ever since the princess of Lakemore went missing, Abby has been disturbed.” Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose.
Mackenzie didn’t miss the spite in her voice. “Erica Perez? What does she have to do with Abby?”
“They were best friends. Inseparable.”
Four
“Erica and Abby were best friends?” Mackenzie repeated.
Hannah scowled. “Yes. I told Abby not to hang around that rich girl. She wouldn’t listen.”
Mackenzie tapped her pen against her notepad incessantly. Erica Perez and Abby Correia went missing exactly one year apart. They were best friends. Could this be just a coincidence?
“Could you not do that?” Hannah snapped. “I’m nursing a hangover.”
“I thought you were working last night.”
She leaned forward and sneered. “I work at a strip club. Sorry for having a drink or five so that I can get through a night of pathetic men trying to grab my ass.”
The stench of cigarettes on Hannah’s breath overwhelmed Mackenzie. She stood, spotting a picture of Abby hanging on the wall behind Hannah. In the picture, Abby held pink cotton candy in her hand. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail. Behind her was a giant Ferris wheel.
“Is that a recent picture?”
“Yeah. Erica took it last summer.”
“You have anything newer on your cell?”
Hannah shook her head. “Use that if you need one.”
“Do you have a digital copy of this?”
“Mm-hmm.” Hannah pulled up the picture on her phone.
“Justin, contact the MUPU and get the data packet. Target gas stations and bus stops first. You know the drill.”
Justin took Hannah’s phone and sent himself the picture before leaving.
“Why don’t you like Erica? Was their friendship toxic?”
“Those people are toxic,” Hannah scoffed. The smoke from her lips swirled like a shapeless doodle before disappearing.
“You don’t like the Perez family.”
“I see! So now this is about Erica. My daughter doesn’t matter that much because she’s from the dirty side of town?”
Mackenzie met her stare evenly. She didn’t waver; she
didn’t soften. She had dealt with violent men twice her size. She had been punched in the gut and had had her nose broken—twice.
An embittered woman didn’t rattle her.
“Mrs. Correia,” she said gently, “Erica and Abby disappeared one year apart. Do you not see the connection there? I am trying to do my due diligence.”
“Then send the detective on her case to ask me these questions.” She slammed her cigarette into the ashtray. It tipped over the table’s edge and fell to the floor between them. Neither of them moved to pick it up. Hannah rolled her eyes and slumped back on her chair.
“I’m trying to help you,” Mackenzie reminded her.
The corners of Hannah’s mouth quivered. She stroked her chin with her bony finger. “Erica’s mother got her status by sleeping with the right men. A high-end escort, if you ask me. Her father brings so much money to this town that no one cares about his filth. I didn’t want Abby to be surrounded by entitled brats like Erica. I didn’t want her to get any ideas.”
“I understand.”
She looked at her sharply. “Do you?”
“May I see her room now?”
“Upstairs. The first room on the right. If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay down here for a smoke. Take whatever you need.” She waved her hand dismissively.
Upon reaching Abby’s room, Mackenzie paused and put on gloves. The door looked different from the others; freshly painted, with a flowery pattern carved into it. She traced her fingers over it. The work was sloppy but sincere. She opened the door to a room that didn’t belong in the tattered house.
The lavender-shaded walls, cherry-wood floor, and the four-poster bed with pink satin sheets showed elegant taste. To the left was a large window that overlooked the backyard. Next to the window was a study table with books and stationery neatly arranged. By the door to the right was a glass shelf of trophies and certificates.
The room smelled like roses.
The dresser by the en suite washroom held perfumes, combs, magazines, and makeup. Mackenzie picked up some lipsticks and frowned—nice brands. It was unusual for a high school student from a poor household.
She opened the drawers. Abby’s clothes were organized by color. She found a green skirt paired with a yellow blouse and stockings put together. As she rummaged through the dresser, she realized that Abby had pre-set outfits.
Mackenzie inspected the study table. She browsed through Abby’s notebooks and assignments. All of her homework was done. Her projects were completed. From the graded exams she found, Abby always got the perfect score. Her schoolwork was organized in different binders. Her pens were arranged by color and size.
She is very focused, very different.
There were pictures of Abby and Erica pinned to the wall above the study table. In all the pictures, they were laughing. At school, at the mall, by the lake, on a school trip. They were together everywhere.
Had Erica’s disappearance prompted Abby into trying to control everything?
In the bathroom, Abby’s towels were monogrammed with her initials. Mackenzie frowned when she saw a bottle of pills next to the toothbrush by the sink. The label on it read “Zoloft”—an antidepressant. The names on the bottle were “Correia” and “Coleman”.
“She couldn’t deal with Erica disappearing.” Mackenzie was startled and turned to see Hannah leaning against the bathroom door. “A few months ago, the school dedicated a football game to Erica. Abby had a meltdown and ran out of the stadium.”
“Did she start being this organized after Erica went missing?”
A lone tear trickled down Hannah’s cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered ceaselessly. “It got worse. But she was always like this. Like a lotus born in the dirt.”
Five
Mackenzie stood outside the conference room with her arms crossed. Through the glass, she watched Detective Nick Blackwood give a presentation to the brass of Lakemore PD. Officers from the Sheriff’s Office and Washington State Patrol—Sergeant Sully, Lieutenant Peck, and Captain Murphy—sat on steel chairs cushioned with leather. On the center table were untouched plates of cookies and donuts.
She couldn’t hear anything. But she saw their lips move, their eyes browse through the files in their hands, and their faces mar with confusion.
Murphy scowled. A muscle in Peck’s jaw clicked. Sully yawned.
Nick loosened his tie and craned his neck. He raised his arm hysterically as he explained something to Murphy. He pounded his fist on the table and clenched his jaw but fell quiet when Murphy shouted at him.
The sounds were muffled by the glass of the conference room, and there was a buzz of activity in the office outside, but it was apparent how the air was inside the conference room.
Stifling, accusatory, and frenzied.
Nick was tall and toned in his black suit. But there was gray in his short hair and lines on his forehead. Light stubble speckled his chiseled jaw.
Mackenzie spotted Troy at the end of the corridor and waved him over.
“Yes?”
“What’s happening in there?”
“Since when are you interested in gossip?” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a mischievous grin.
“Ever since I realized that it’s what you’re supposed to do by water coolers,” she replied, deadpan. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled out a plastic cup from the stack, turned on the tap, and filled it with water. He raised an eyebrow when she offered it to him.
“Why do I have a feeling that this is poisoned?”
“I won’t kill you without any theatrics, Troy. You deserve more.”
He sighed and drank from the cup. “You really are mad. And Nick is halfway to a mental institution himself. It’s been a year since Erica went missing, and there are no leads. Bruce has totally checked out since he retired, and you remember how his notes were even before then. Nick is still playing catch-up. The Perez family has put a lot of pressure on the Mayor’s office.”
“Haven’t you been assisting Nick?”
“Sometimes. He has a lot on his plate. This is Lakemore. We have more to do than finding one missing girl.” He groaned. “No offense to her.”
“Did the name Abigail Correia ever come up? Or just Abby?”
“Abby? Sounds a bit familiar. I think she was a friend. Yes, yes, I remember now!” His eyes widened. “Nick told me that when Bruce talked to her, she fainted. She couldn’t handle what had happened. Why?”
“She’s missing. It’s in the bulletin.”
His mouth fell open. “Oh, shit. I haven’t even checked. Been chasing something down all day. Do you think it’s related?”
“Too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“I guess…” he trailed off. “But why is she missing a year later?”
A knot formed in the pit of Mackenzie’s stomach. It always happened when she had unanswered questions and hadn’t solved the puzzle. It was an itch that she couldn’t scratch away.
“I have no clue. It’s possible that it’s not related.” The words felt like a lie. “Can you go over the case files again? Look for Abby? If there’s anything noteworthy there, I want to know.”
“Why don’t you ask Nick? It’s his case.”
“I don’t want to bother him. He’s already very stressed.”
Troy narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure everything is good between you two? Haven’t seen you talk for months now.”
“Yes.” She placed her hands on her waist and tipped her chin up. “We’re good. We’re both busy and don’t have time to chitchat. Just help me out. Please.”
“Well, since you said please.” He mocked her and started walking away. “I will!” he yelled when he reached the end of the hallway.
Troy was always about drama and jokes, but the young detective had once taken a bullet for a patrol officer. She admired his sturdiness, his ability not to mold due to the nature of the job. But maybe he was wearing a mask too. Wasn’t everyone?
The meeting inside had adjourned. Ev
eryone was getting ready to leave. Nick stacked his papers together and his gaze collided with Mackenzie’s through the glass.
He paused. His eyes softened. Hers hardened.
Steeling her spine, she marched away with the weight of his eyes on her back.
Six
Abby Correia’s phone hadn’t been tracked yet. Either the phone was destroyed, or it wasn’t connected to a power source. Mackenzie had requested Forensics try to have it ping the nearest cell tower—but they’d had no success yet. Of course, there was the option that the phone was in a block-bag. But the likelihood of that was slim. How would a teenager have access to a block-bag? Why would a kidnapper go through the trouble of keeping a phone in it? It was easier to destroy it.
Mackenzie replied to the email from Forensics, asking them to keep her updated on the status. Abby’s cell provider could shed light on when her phone was last active. She was waiting for the court order to go through. She leaned back on her chair and stared at the ceiling.
It was eight in the evening, and her coworkers had left. A few people were working late in the building somewhere, but her floor was empty.
It had been more than twenty-four hours since Abby Correia allegedly went missing. The chances of her being found alive were drastically decreasing with each passing hour.
Her photograph had been distributed all over Lakemore. The Washington State Patrol had been alerted. The Sheriff’s Office had been provided with the necessary information. Abby’s picture was at all exit points, bus stops, and gas stations. Every officer in Lakemore had been instructed to be on the lookout.
Tomorrow morning the media would start covering her case and flash her picture on every screen in the city. But how much coverage she would get compared to Erica Perez was debatable, as the Perez family had bought airtime.
What peeved her was Hannah. How did a mother not realize that her daughter had been missing for an entire night? Was Abby used to fending for herself? Did she raise herself? She knew that a parent’s love could be insufferable and selfish. Would Abby be better off without Hannah?
Our Daughter's Bones: An absolutely gripping crime fiction novel (Detective Mackenzie Price Book 1) Page 3