He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Actually, I’m not feeling too well. I think I’d better just get to the office.”
Mackenzie sat at her desk using Abby’s bottle of pills as a rattle. Listening to Troy and Finn debate for almost an hour had convinced her that she was surrounded by children.
“We won’t see Sharks versus Falcons this year,” Finn said. “I doubt the Falcons will make it to the semi-finals now that Doyle has graduated.”
“I don’t know, man,” Troy argued. “They got a new coach. He played for the Patriots.”
“Man, we got Bill ‘the Monster’ Grayson! He’s led us to the championship every year.”
“But how much can the coach do? Most of our good players have graduated. Miller is gone. Frankie is gone. McKellar is injured…”
“We still got Jones. He scored the final touchdown last year. Remember that?”
Mackenzie spun around in her chair. “Don’t you have murders and abductions to solve?” She looked between Finn and Troy, who were perched on the shared table in the middle of their corner of the office. Finn looked at her, flustered. He fixed his tie, which didn’t need any fixing. His face flooded with a color that matched Mackenzie’s hair. “Um. Yeah. Right.” He grabbed his coffee and walked out of the office.
Troy rolled his eyes and smirked. “I think that baby Finn is crushing on you, Mack.”
“I’m a married woman.” She raised her hand to flash her ring. “Also, I think he’s scared of me.”
“Anyone in their right mind would be. Also, you just interrupted an interesting debate.”
“Football is for happy hour.”
Troy flipped through his file. “This is Lakemore. You know what they say. Crime and football never stop he— Ooof. Looks like my guy took out life insurance on his wife. This just got interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “Also, I looked into your Abby.”
Mackenzie straightened. “Yes?”
“Nothing interesting. Erica had texted Abby about some homework the night she disappeared, but Abby didn’t see it till the next morning. I went over the statements. All we know is that they were best friends. She was one of those overly protective and loyal friends.”
“I see. Thanks.”
“Did the news channel air her disappearance?”
“Yes. Posters are up on all major checkpoints. Patrol officers are on alert. We got a few calls about potential sightings. The Sheriff’s Office has volunteered to check the tips, but as expected all of them have been hoaxes so far.”
“You should talk to Becky. Nick was in a meeting with her earlier, so I thought––”
Before he could finish, Mackenzie shot up from her chair and ran.
“Mad Mack!” Troy called out from behind her.
She showed him the middle finger without looking back or pausing. Each morning the air inside the Lakemore PD building was soaked in the smell of coffee beans. Mackenzie never fell into the trap of caffeine. She prided herself in not having any vices; she didn’t deserve any.
She had planned on going to the Washington State Patrol Crime Lab, which was located in Seattle. Instead of stopping by to see Becky, she gave her a ring. It was best to leave for Seattle as soon as possible to avoid the traffic.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Becky. It’s me.”
Becky snickered. “You heard I met with Nick today.”
“I’m assuming you completed your examination of the remains?”
“Why are you so interested in Nick’s case? Don’t you have your girl to find?”
“I do. But I think the cases might be related. They were best friends.”
“I see. A strange coincidence.”
“So? Was it Erica Perez?”
“You know I can’t reveal too much to a detective not on this case, right?”
“I understand.” Mackenzie paused. “But you can give me something?”
“She is Erica Perez. DNA confirmed it.”
Mackenzie’s scalp prickled. Her heart dropped in her stomach like a boulder rolling off a hill and falling down into a pit. She’d known last night, but the confirmation still had another layer of finality to it. There was not a sliver of doubt, no room for hope.
Erica Perez had imprinted herself on everyone in Lakemore. The freckles on her face, her favorite ice cream flavor, the birthmark on her inner thigh, the clay sculptures she made—everything about her was public. It was gossip fodder. For months people speculated. The news covered her story all day and night. It was the topic of discussion at every dinner table.
Now the story that had riveted the entire town had ended on a tragic note.
“That’s terrible for her family.” Mackenzie said.
“Yeah, Nick has gone there now to have the difficult conversation with them. The news is going to pick it up soon. I know that one of the deputies is going to blab.”
“Probably. But I always say that a homicide investigation is better than a missing person case.”
“I agree. A known unknown over an unknown unknown. Anyway, is that all you wanted? I was in the middle of a very interesting article.”
Mackenzie hung up soon after. Almost an hour later, she parked her car in front of the newly renovated building.
“Hey, Anthony.” Mackenzie breezed in to his office.
Anthony Wallace at the crime lab was a lanky man with white hair in tufts around his mostly hairless head. His two front teeth were yellow compared to the rest of his pearly white teeth. It always distracted Mackenzie.
He was reading a thick book. His glasses made his green eyes look buggier and highlighted the golden flecks in them. His office was stuffy, always bathed in yellow light. A bookshelf made of old wood struggled to contain the thick books falling out of it.
“Oh for God’s sake, keep your curtains open.”
“I don’t like sunlight. Why do you think I moved to Washington?” He put his book and glasses away. “Sit down. What brings you here?”
She withdrew the bottle of antidepressants from her pocket and placed it on the table. “Can you run a test on these pills?”
He picked it up. “Zoloft. That’s sertraline. Used to treat depression and panic attacks. Why do you want to check these?”
“Just want to confirm.”
“This isn’t from a crime scene.”
“No. I have a missing girl. Abigail Correia. This was in her bedroom. Just following a hunch.”
“No problem. I’ll have results for you by tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks, Anthony.” Mackenzie’s phone rang. “Excuse me.”
She frowned at the unknown number on the screen and stepped out of his office.
“Detective Price.”
“Hi, Detective Price. This is Hannah Correia,” a throaty voice came down the line.
“Hannah, hello. How are you doing? Have you heard from Abby?”
Hannah hesitated. “N-no, I haven’t. But I just realized something. I thought you should know.”
“Of course, what is it?”
“I…” she sighed. “I think Abby was stealing money from me.”
Nine
Back at the station, Mackenzie watched the sports commentators discussing strategy. The flat-screen television in the lounge played either the game or the news. For years, Mackenzie thought that they didn’t get any other channels. It wasn’t until one night when she was working late and had come downstairs to use the vending machine that she caught the janitor, Joe, watching Frasier. Joe had jumped to turn off the television but stopped when Mackenzie sat next to him and offered him a Snickers.
Now, by some silent agreement, Mackenzie and Joe watched an episode of Frasier every Thursday night. Neither of them would speak to each other. She liked that he appreciated silence as well.
Some fellow officers were sitting in the lounge watching intently. Highlights from the kickoff game of the annual Olympic Championship were on. Every year Lakemore and other towns in Washington came together in what had started off
as a friendly tournament between high schools decades ago. Today, Lakemore breathed football. The competition became fierce. People became emotionally invested. Then the sponsorships and money came. Local media attention followed soon after. High school football was the reason behind investment in the local college team.
Soon Lakemore was on its way to becoming a football town. Lakemore University was a small college but had a reputable football team, being an FCS school. There was a push to qualify for FBS status—the top level of the college game. The dream was that one day the Lakemore Lions would gain recognition on a national level.
But high school football was the backbone. It received more love and attention than the college team. It seemed ridiculous to an outsider, but the Olympic Championship was a local symbol of pride and respect. All the boys who made it to the team were guaranteed spots at some of the best football colleges across the country, like University of Michigan and Louisiana State. The grooming started early, attracting the attention of scouts from everywhere. Many players in the NFL were Lakemore Sharks alumni.
This was the legacy of Lakemore. It was the mark Lakemore would leave on this country if it were wiped out tomorrow.
Even though Mackenzie had spent most of her life in Lakemore, she never understood its obsession with football.
She didn’t understand the obsession with any sport. To her, sport was just entertainment. But when she said as much to her husband, he had quoted a line from a Fredrik Backman novel: ‘The only thing the sport gives us are moments. But what the hell is life apart from moments?’
The words had clicked somewhere, made her curious. It had made her want to give sports a chance. But she would never love football like her coworkers did. The seeds for that kind of obsession had to be sowed earlier in youth, and Mackenzie had spent most of her formative years away from Lakemore.
She checked the clock hanging on the wall.
“Detective Price?” Hannah’s scratchy voice came from behind.
“Hannah. Thank you for coming to see me.” She shook her hand.
Hannah looked cleaner. Her dreary hair was tied in a braid, which accentuated the squareness of her face. Her eyes were crusted with dark circles, but they didn’t look glassy. She didn’t reek of cigarettes either, though if Mackenzie sniffed hard enough she could smell the staleness under the perfume.
“You look better,” Mackenzie commented. “I mean, I’m glad to see you’re holding it together.”
Hannah shuddered and tightened her grip on the strap of her shoulder bag. “I have a lot of faith in my daughter.” She glanced at the screen and scowled. “Of course.”
“You don’t follow football? That’s hard to find here.”
“You didn’t go to high school here, did you?”
“No, I was in New York.”
She smiled, dryly. “The sport is fine. It’s the players—assholes and local gods. Mind if I smoke?”
“The building has a no-smoking policy. We can talk in my office?”
“Sure.” She shrugged dispassionately.
They walked together, Hannah with a bored expression on her face. To the casual observer, she appeared positively relaxed: shoulders loose, thumbs hooked into the waistband of her jeans. She even smacked on gum. But Mackenzie could sense the chaos inside her. She noticed the fidgety eyes, the jerky movements as she walked.
Mackenzie knew the type. Hannah Correia had had a rough life. She was jaded and unpolished. She had been dealt bad cards, like most people in Lakemore. This was the worst thing that could happen to her, but she was used to pretending not to care, to acting like nothing fazed her.
“Please have a seat.” Mackenzie pulled an extra chair for her. Only Finn was working at his desk, but his headphones were on. Sully’s door was shut, which meant he was taking a nap and didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Thank you for seeing me at short notice.”
“Finding your daughter is my priority right now,” Mackenzie assured her. “You said something about Abby stealing money from you?”
“Yes,” Hannah fished around in her bag and pulled out a checkbook. “I don’t know if this is related to her going missing or anything. But I thought you should know.”
“Any and all information is important.”
Hannah swallowed and handed her the checkbook. “Look at this. There are all these checks torn from it.”
“You didn’t write them?” Mackenzie flipped through the pages. The withdrawals went back a few months.
“No! I was going through my statements and found some money was missing. It was small amounts every time, but now I’m out of a few hundred dollars.”
“Why didn’t you notice this before?”
“I don’t regularly check my statements line by line.” She bit her lower lip. “As long as the end balance is around what I expect it to be.”
“You recognize the first few entries, though?”
“Yes, but not all those checks.” Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you sure I can’t smoke?”
“Positive. I’m going to keep this checkbook, if you don’t mind? I’ll see what I can get from this.”
“Sure.”
“This was uncharacteristic of her. Wasn’t it? Stealing?”
“Yes!” Hannah cried. “Abby doesn’t steal. My daughter isn’t a cheat or a criminal. I have always provided for her. I made sure she doesn’t lack for anything! I’ve gone without paying my phone bill for months so that she can buy new clothes! After all, she was friends with Erica. I didn’t want her to feel as poor as we actually are.”
“Do you have a guess as to why she would need this much money?”
“I have no idea. Please, just find my daughter. I don’t know what she’s gotten herself into.”
“We’ll find her.” Mackenzie swallowed hard.
“What are the chances that she’s alive? Be honest.”
Mackenzie drummed her fingers on the desk. She glanced at Finn’s bobbing head as he read some document. She couldn’t tell Hannah that Erica’s body had been discovered—not before Nick had informed the family. For the first time, Hannah’s eyes were focused and trained on her. They weren’t shifty.
“The chance of Abby being alive decreases every day,” she said slowly. Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. “But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. We’re doing everything we can, I promise.”
“I’m going to head out.” With trembling hands, Hannah hurried out of the office. Desperate for a smoke and unwilling to let her emotions spill over, Mackenzie guessed. She knew the feeling. She picked up the checkbook.
Why did Abby steal from her mother?
Ten
Mackenzie parked her car in front of Lakemore High. The single-story building sprawled over several acres of land. The front was littered with students standing in groups and talking. Rows of bikes and cars were parked in the lot. When she turned off the engine, Mackenzie looked over at Justin Armstrong in the passenger seat.
Stiff as a board, his eyes were always narrowed in suspicion.
“You called ahead?” Mackenzie confirmed as they walked toward the building.
“Yes, ma’am. Principal Burley will meet us inside. Cooperative woman.”
Mackenzie had told him several times not to call her “ma’am”, but Justin insisted. His demeanor was military-like. She noticed the curious glances thrown at them by students—some even flinched.
Mackenzie paused when she saw posters of Erica and Abby by the entrance of the building. They still didn’t know that Erica’s body had been found. But in a few hours that news would spread like wildfire. It also didn’t skip her notice that Erica’s poster was glossy. Abby’s poster was on cheap paper.
“Seems like the Sheriff’s Office’s print budget is smaller than the Perez family’s,” Mackenzie muttered.
“The way of the world, ma’am,” Justin said, opening the door for her.
“You don’t have to open doors for me, Justin.” She rolled her eyes and walked
in.
“I insist, ma’am.”
“Jesus,” she muttered under her breath.
It was recess. Mackenzie had expected it to be crowded, kids running wild, like her much bigger high school in New York. But the hallways of Lakemore High were tame and not overpopulated by students. Blue lockers lined one side of the harshly lit corridor. On the wall across from them was a giant banner emblazoned “Lakemore High Sharks.”
A group of rowdy boys emerged from the other end of the corridor. They were tall, bulky and dressed in football jerseys. Their presence was intimidating and stark, and they drew attention from everyone around them. They tossed around a football, teasing and laughing.
When they walked past Mackenzie, one of them winked at her. “Hot hair.”
“I got a gun,” Mackenzie deadpanned, flashing her badge.
The boy’s olive skin flushed pink, and his friends erupted around him. In the middle of the group stood a tall, well-built boy, muscles bulging under his blue jersey. His handsome face was narrow, with a sharp jawline and pointy chin that could cut a diamond. His dark hair fell over his forehead. Unlike the others, he didn’t laugh or even smile. He had a pout plastered to his face. Mackenzie identified him as the alpha of the pack.
“Quit it,” he warned his friend.
“Whatever, Jones.”
“Sorry about that,” the boy called Jones muttered to Mackenzie as they walked away.
She watched their backs with raised eyebrows. Students parted to pave the way for them. “Who says the monarchy is dead?” Mackenzie said to Justin.
“At least one of them knows how to talk to a lady,” Justin huffed.
Mackenzie suppressed her laughter, aware of a woman with short hair approaching them in stiletto heels. She had a dyed-orange bob cut and wore cat-eye framed spectacles. Her skin sagged around her chin.
“I’m Principal Burley. You must be Detective Price.” She raised a bony hand.
“Yes. Nice to meet you. This is Detective Armstrong.” Justin gave her a sharp nod.
“O-of course,” she stammered. “We talked on the phone yesterday. You can call me Joanne. What can I help you with?”
Our Daughter's Bones: An absolutely gripping crime fiction novel (Detective Mackenzie Price Book 1) Page 5