Eddy Rowinski.
Fifty-Four
September 24
Mackenzie sprinted faster than normal. Her breaths came shallow. Sweat matted every inch of her skin. She powered through the stitch below her ribcage, through the spasm bubbling in her left leg.
Her body was breaking down. It sent her distress signals to stop. But she couldn’t. Her body was trying to keep up with her mind. Her thoughts were spinning and surging forward uninhibited.
She ran blindly. Not paying attention to her route.
Where was Abby Correia? Who took her? The people behind 916 or the client Hannah had blackmailed?
It was clear why Eddy had the best law firm representing him. Why Clara said he was protected. Why Isaac had called him lucky.
Eddy’s boss was someone powerful.
And Hannah had been stupid enough to blackmail him. That’s why Eddy had approached Abby. Not because she was a “cute” girl he happened to see at the gas station, but because he had to send Hannah a message.
Mackenzie had asked Daniel to look into Eddy’s employment. The client must be related to Magnus Pharma—the firm Eddy did admin work for. His job could account for Eddy coming into contact with a seemingly legit businessman, or maybe he’d only ever done dirty work, and the admin job was a front. Either way, they needed to know more about the company, and she’d thought it was better to put Daniel on a project away from fieldwork. He had been too erratic and emotional at the school but was eager to do something more.
Now she just had to wait. It was possible that Eddy’s boss was connected to 916. After all, Abby had pointed at someone wealthy and powerful.
Mackenzie picked up speed. The September morning was humid. The air was too viscous to run through. It was easier to be still, but she couldn’t bear it. She feared that if she stood still, her thoughts would swallow her whole.
Suddenly, she came to a halt.
She was at the edge of the woods behind Hidden Lake. The woods where the bones of her father rotted.
A cold caress held her in place. Why had she run here? Her legs had seemed to have a mind of their own.
She tugged out her earphones and rested her hands on her knees. The pain finally seized her. But it was nothing compared to the repulsion she felt.
Who the hell was she to catch the bad guys and lock them up?
She was a fraud, and the world around her was stupid enough to believe otherwise.
Her phone rang. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Nick asked.
“Get to the point.”
There was silence on the line for a few seconds, and she bit her tongue. Before she could apologize, Nick spoke. “Abby’s phone just pinged.”
“What?” She was already running toward the station. “Where?”
“The woods around Fresco River.”
“That doesn’t help! That area is huge.”
“It turned on briefly before it went dead again. Only the NSA can help us now.”
“Have the Sheriff’s Office dispatch some deputies to begin combing through the woods. I’m on my way.”
It was an unusually noisy day at Lakemore PD. Phones rang incessantly. Rooms were filled with bickering lawyers. An interrogation room was being renovated. Construction workers and janitors invaded the floors with electric drills and hammers. When she reached her office, she saw Nick, Clint, and Jenna huddled around a computer.
“What do we have?”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Did you run here?”
“Yeah. So what?”
“Look at this.” He pointed at the computer screen showing a map of the woods. “It’s somewhere within this three-hundred-acre region.”
“Three hundred acres? Clint, you can usually narrow it down much further.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, Mack. Depends on the cell towers and location. This is deep in the woods. Plus, it was on for less than a minute.”
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. “There are a lot of cabins in that area.”
“Yeah, we’re not even sure how many,” Nick said. “Patrol can do a door-to-door search?”
Mackenzie turned to her desk and opened the drawer. She picked up the stash of the missing pages they’d recovered.
“What’re you thinking, Mack?”
She gripped the papers hard. “They have something, Nick. Why would Abby hide them?”
“You think that whoever took her has a cabin in the woods?”
“Exactly.”
“916 or Eddy’s boss?”
“His boss could be one of them.”
While the uniforms began an on-foot search through the woods, Mackenzie and Nick reviewed the papers again.
What had she missed? Still in her running gear, she paced the office. She compared the missing pages to the pages from the rest of the diary.
It was then she noticed the subtle differences. Abby’s handwriting in the missing pages was neat. It wasn’t written with as much force—leaving no imprint on the back. A different pen was used too. Strange.
Monster.
She called him Monster.
It struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her pulse galloped. Abby always spelled Monster with a capital M—every time. Even when she used it in the middle of a sentence.
Like it was a proper noun, not an adjective.
“Nick! She calls him Monster and uses it like a nickname.”
“What does that––?” He froze. “Clint, access the property records at the county office and check for properties registered to Bill Grayson.”
Clint’s jaw fell open. “Bill Grayson? The Sharks coach?”
“Do it.”
They stood motionless, still suspended in shock while Clint clicked away on his computer. None of them wanted this to be true. But as Mackenzie looked at the pages, it was the only clue that stood out.
Bill Grayson was revered and powerful and rich—the only man this city could forgive for murder. He coached the Sharks, so he was in close proximity to Abby at Lakemore High. She and Nick gave Clint some space, but simply stood by the water cooler in silence, the air heavy. She didn’t know what to expect, but the former NFL star had never been on their list of suspects.
A few minutes later, Clint came to them with a pale face. “He has a cabin in the area. I got an address.”
Fifty-Five
Bill ‘the Monster’ Grayson had a glorious career in the NFL. He still held his college’s all-time passing touchdowns record. The star athlete was offered shows and movies. At one point, he was a regular feature on the late-night shows. His personal life was always speculated upon.
He was never married.
Mackenzie had seen him. Everyone in Lakemore had. He was often on the news giving interviews, on billboards, and his face would be zoomed in on during every football match aired on television.
He was Lakemore’s treasure and pride. Decades ago, he put Lakemore on the map. He made the city matter in sports. When he decided to retire from the cushy life in Los Angeles and move back to Lakemore, he became the most beloved man in the city.
Selfless Bill. Honorable Bill. Loyal Bill.
He returned to pass on his gift. He coached the Sharks. He also ran a coaching school for children from poor-income households for free. Despite his mounting wealth, he gave and gave and gave. He set up foundations and charities and never spent extravagantly on clothes and cars. He was always dressed in a tracksuit and running shoes and drove a modest, if not exactly cheap, Range Rover. He was never spotted at parties rubbing shoulders with rich businessmen and politicians. He was respected, decorated, and untouchable—as Abby correctly stated.
Mackenzie scoured the internet looking for more information on him. She combed through news articles and blogs. Nothing was interesting.
“We don’t have enough for a warrant against him, do we?”
Nick checked his watch. “Nope. We need a lot more, especially if you want to go after him. Do you know that Murphy bought Grayson’s old je
rsey and framed it?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she groaned. “Do you want to tell Sully?”
“Do you?”
Troy walked in the office whistling and flashed them a pointed look. “Are you two friends again?”
“Grow up, will you?”
“What’s the sitch? What happened between you two?” He plopped into his chair.
She looked at his mop of hair—overgrown and wild. “Nick, do you want to talk outside?”
“Sure.” Nick dashed out of the office like he was running for his life.
“Aw, come on!” Troy called after them. “Mad Mack!”
She ignored him and followed Nick outside and around the corner. He leaned against the wall with his ankles crossed. His pout was deep as he rolled a cigarette in between his fingers.
“Daniel and Justin still looking into Magnus Pharma?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, I texted them to look for a connection to Bill Grayson. They found out that Magnus is a shell company. Doesn’t exist.”
“No way.”
“Yep. Whoever this man is, he’s doing a lot of illegal shit. They’re working closely with the white-collar crime division in the FBI. Might help us move faster.”
“Patrol is going through the woods, but they can’t enter any personal property if the owner doesn’t allow it. And if the owner isn’t there then they can’t get in without a warrant. Abby’s phone could have pinged from anywhere in that big area.”
“We have to talk to Grayson.”
“I know.” His mouth pressed in a flat line.
“Why’re you so reluctant? Are you a fan too?”
“Cut it out, Mack. You think so?”
She shrugged.
“I’m concerned about what this could mean for Lakemore.” He put the cigarette in his mouth. “There’s no room for mistakes.”
“I know.”
Even though her moral compass was decidedly fixed, she lived in the real world. She knew what it could mean to go after Bill Grayson. Even with solid forensic evidence, there would be pressure and scrutiny.
“How did Abby find out about him?” he asked. “No way she just heard it from someone.”
“Yeah, I doubt there’s a rumor going around about Bill raping and killing girls. Even if it were an open secret, one of us would have heard something at some point. I don’t know.” She leaned against the wall next to him. Their shoulders brushed against each other. She inched away abruptly and ignored his breathy chuckle at her reaction. “Do you think she followed him?”
“Where? How’d she know about the other girls?”
“I don’t know. Same way Daniel did? She must have come across something on the internet and started digging.”
“Bill is the client Joe and Hannah blackmailed?”
“‘916’ is more than one person, remember? Either Bill could be the client or he knows the client because they’re together in this club.”
“Should we bring in Eddy or Miranda? They can shed some light on this client’s identity.”
“I doubt they’ll talk. But I think Hannah might.”
Fifty-Six
“Did you find her?” Hannah demanded as she strode into the station. “Where is she?”
Gone was the haggard mother with lines running down her face. Hannah was dressed in a black leather dress with mascara goop collecting in the corners of her eyes—on her way to work, it seemed. When one of the passing officers stared at her, she bit out, “Take a picture, will you? It’ll last longer.”
“Hannah, we haven’t found her yet,” Mackenzie said, gesturing for her to sit down. “I thought you took the night shift.”
“Not anymore. Did you find anything? Who’re you?” She turned to Nick. “I’ve seen you on the news, I think.”
Nick fixed his tie. “I’m the detective on Erica’s case. As you know the investigations were combined.”
“Right.” She settled on a chair.
For the first time, Mackenzie saw her restless. Typically she was defeated but defiant, lazy but bitter. Today, she was agitated. Furiously, she moved her neck around in jerky motions.
“We think Abby was taken because she found out what happened to Erica––” Mackenzie started.
“I knew that rich bitch would cause trouble one day.”
Nick’s eyes went wide before he showed her a picture of the cocktail napkin. “Recognize this?”
She frowned. “No.”
Mackenzie looked at her, feeling uneasy. “Hannah, we know you blackmailed someone from Remington’s.”
Her breath hitched. “That’s why Joe left.”
“What do you mean?”
“Joe! My manager.” She leaned forward and whisper-yelled. “He skipped town. That’s why I’ve taken over. I need to start work earlier. You went to him, didn’t you? What did he say?”
“We need to know the name of the client you blackmailed.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Your daughter is,” Mackenzie said, exasperated. “We have CCTV footage of Abby being approached by Eddy Rowinski right before she went missing. He’s a former convict. A dangerous man who has been charged with aggravated assault. He works for the client you blackmailed.”
Hannah fell silent for a few heartbeats, like she was considering. “I… What did this Eddy Rowinski say?”
“Nothing. We’re looking into his employment, but it’s taking time. If you tell us the name, then we can move faster.”
“N-no.”
“Excuse me?” Nick asked.
“No. I… No.” Hannah wrapped her arms around her chest and rubbed her arms. “I made a mistake, okay? I was sick of struggling to pay the bills and working extra shifts. Buying Abby expensive clothes and makeup so that she didn’t feel too out of place. You saw her room. Joe came up to me with this idea of catching a rich client with a prostitute.”
“This client was a regular?”
“On and off. He’d developed a crush on this girl at the club. Joe convinced me to record them. I shouldn’t have, but you don’t know what it’s like. To be in my shoes. After the girl quit, the client threatened Joe. That’s when I backed out of this whole scheme.”
“Did the client contact you?”
“No.” She grimaced. “I didn’t know until now that he contacted Abby.”
“We need a name, Hannah.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“We’re the police.”
“Doesn’t matter. This is Lakemore. Tell me, how much corruption happens here?”
Mackenzie didn’t have an answer. She balled her hands into fists next to her thighs. She didn’t know what to feel: shame or anger. Daphne and Chloe demanded justice. She might not have been responsible for any cover-up, but she was an unwitting participant. They all were.
“Your daughter is missing,” Nick repeated. “There’s a high chance she was taken by the client you blackmailed.”
“He didn’t take her!”
“How do you know that?”
“Because we didn’t see a dime of the money we’d demanded!” she cried. “The client threatened Joe and refused to pay. We backed off because we realized we were in way over our heads. I even destroyed the video—showed him I had. It was done. Why would he take Abby now?”
“Revenge? To send out a message to you?”
She flicked her hand, dismissively. “He didn’t take her. I thought you believed the same person hurt Erica and Abby.”
“There are multiple theories we’re working on,” Mackenzie said impatiently. “This is how investigations are led. We have to cross out some lines of inquiry. If you don’t think he hurt Abby, then why aren’t you giving us a name? Let us confirm.”
She shook her head and pressed her thumbs against her eyelids, mumbling to herself about being “stupid” and “dumb”. When she looked up, the rims of her eyes were red. “I’m sorry but I can’t tell you. If I do, he’ll hurt me. If he finds out that I gave you his name, then I’m dead. And save yo
ur bullshit about protecting me.”
Nick shot up from his seat and marched out of the building. Through the window, Mackenzie saw him come out the front door. He took out a cigarette and contemplated it. Then he pulled a face and tossed it on the ground.
Mackenzie knew Hannah’s weakness had triggered him. Her refusal to put her child before herself.
“Is it Bill Grayson? Is he the client?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m sorry. But he didn’t take her. I know it. And I want to be here when Abby comes back home. I can’t be there for my child if I’m dead, right?”
As Hannah walked past her to leave, Mackenzie gripped her by the elbow. Something bubbled inside her—desperation, irritation, or betrayal. She didn’t know. Hannah looked at her, surprised. It was uncharacteristic of Mackenzie to cross that line of decorum. After all, she was known to be unaffected—a cool head.
“You’re a mother,” she said in a tight voice. “How can you do this?”
In that moment, she saw Hannah’s face almost transform into Melody’s.
She yanked her arm away. “Just do your damn job, okay?”
Fifty-Seven
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” A twig snapped under Mackenzie’s heel. She jumped at the sound. Nick walked in front of her, deftly climbing over trunks and maneuvering around overgrown bushes.
“Yes, Mack. I have a good sense of direction. Unlike you.”
She brushed off his comment. She was too preoccupied, staring at the belly of the forest. The woods next to Fresco River were dense. Sections of the forest were converted into heritage sites and had become a tourist attraction. The woods on the other side were closed, pending construction.
Being surrounded by centuries-old trees covered in green fungus and mold was not what Mackenzie had planned for the rest of the day. The trees were tall with thick trunks she could never imagine wrapping her arms around. Their tips poked the sky but didn’t shield it. Plenty of sunlight spread freely over the forest. It helped her deal with the knots in her stomach. She was never comfortable in the woods.
Our Daughter's Bones: An absolutely gripping crime fiction novel (Detective Mackenzie Price Book 1) Page 23