Our Daughter's Bones: An absolutely gripping crime fiction novel (Detective Mackenzie Price Book 1)

by Ruhi Choudhary

  1997

  “Wakey, wakey, Micky,” her father’s voice sang.

  One. Two. Three. Mackenzie kept her breathing even. Her toes curled underneath her blanket.

  “Why aren’t you waking up, Micky?”

  Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two.

  The pungent smell of Scotch slithered up her nose. She wanted to squirm away. She wanted to scream at him till his ears bled.

  Robert hovered, his warm breath kissing her skin.

  “Micky, are you mad at Daddy?” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

  She clutched the bed sheet in her fist.

  Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine.

  “What are you dreaming about?”

  His breath formed a bubble around her. Every wisp of the bitter smell scabbed the inside of her lungs.

  Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five.

  “I’ll go.” He pulled away, and fresh air diffused into the space. She took a deep breath but didn’t open her eyes.

  Sometimes she thought of him as the Grim Reaper. He descended with darkness and cold. His presence was fetid in her soul. Like the angel of death, he brought finality. In this case, it wasn’t death. It was pain.

  Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.

  The door opened and closed. She opened her eyes and sighed.

  One hundred.

  Sixty-Two

  September 25

  One hundred.

  Mackenzie opened her eyes. Sterling’s face hovered above hers.

  “Mack! You okay?” he gasped.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a wiggle. One by one, all her senses woke up. She smelled chemicals and disinfectants. She sniffed until she identified the distinctive smell.

  Iodoform.

  She was in the hospital. She shot up from the bed like she had been electrocuted.

  “Take it easy!” Sterling rubbed her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

  “What happened?”

  She was behind the privacy of the thick blue curtain but could hear the ruckus on the other side. Doctors shouted orders. Feet and wheels swiveled on the floor. Patients hummed complaints. She looked around her small area. There was one chair, a hand-sanitizing station, garbage disposal and a cabinet with gauze and bottles sitting on top. She felt a sharp jab on her arm. She was hooked onto an IV.

  “You passed out at work.” Sterling cupped her face with one hand. “I was so damn scared. I ran out of court.”

  “But I feel fine.”

  “You were dehydrated and stressed out. They’re pumping some electrolytes into you.”

  She groaned. “Can I leave?”

  “No,” he chided. “I told you to take it easy. I didn’t realize it was this bad. When was the last time you ate?”

  She shrugged.

  “You’re not a child. Why can’t you take care of yourself?”

  “If you’re going to be rude, then there’s no need to talk to me,” she snapped.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? I got a phone call saying my wife blacked out. Do you have any idea how terrified I was on the drive here?”

  She sighed. “Sterling. There is a lot going on at work. I can’t even explain how messed up it is right now.”

  “It always is! Work will always be crazy, Mack. Doesn’t mean you have to jeopardize your health!”

  She searched his face for a sign of insincerity. How could her caring husband cheat on her? What went on in his mind? She wanted to take his brain in her hands and peel off the layers one by one. She wanted to inspect every crevice and ridge of it under a microscope. She thought she knew him. She thought Sterling was simple. There was nothing complicated or dark about him. There were no demons in his life. It made him a nice husband.

  It left her with shivers, thinking how little she really knew him. She never knew him. Who was he?

  “What are you looking at?”

  Nick walked in with a granola bar. “Thought you might be hungry.” He tossed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She caught it midair.

  “I’ll find the nurse.” Sterling left brusquely without acknowledging Nick.

  Her stomach teemed with satisfaction as she ate. Nick sat on the chair and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

  “What happened with Max? Did he say anything else?”

  “Nothing new. Daniel and Justin are with him right now, going over his statement again in detail.”

  “They’re allowing Daniel on the case?”

  “Yeah.” He scratched his growing beard. “Wow, I need to shave. You feeling better?”

  “I’m good. What do you think about Max? What the hell happened?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “It made you pass out, Mack.”

  “Sully’s going to gloat. He had a feeling that Abby ran away.”

  “But she did it for a different reason. She felt unsafe.”

  “She didn’t tell Max everything. He doesn’t know about the money or Erica’s phone.”

  “It makes sense. She was being threatened because she’d found the phone. Even though it didn’t have anything on it, she didn’t want Max to be threatened too. So she didn’t tell him everything.”

  “We know that Abby reached Grayson’s cabin. The blood was old enough. That means that someone followed her or caught her there. Why would Bill not clean up the blood?”

  “I know. It means that Abby made a mistake in thinking that the old Club 916 was still active and behind everything.”

  “There’s a copycat club. There must be. They took her.”

  Sixty-Three

  October 4

  The air of Lakemore felt different. It was putrid. Mackenzie always believed that Lakemore was lazy and unlucky. She never realized that it could be sinister.

  The city had potential; it had heart. A heart that swelled with pride when it came to football. Football was the shining beacon. It wasn’t just a sport, it was the centerpiece of Lakemore’s culture. It was a phenomenon. A lifeline. But it was tainted. The one thing that worked for Lakemore, the one thing that gave people hope, was dowsed in the blood and tears of innocent girls.

  Thick ropes of sweat glided down her back and pooled in her tailbone. Her scalp felt cool.

  She looked up at the sky. A storm was brewing. This September had not been rainy; it had been thunderous. October promised more of the same. She looked around at the empty street. It was five in the morning, too early for the usual runners to be out. The silence irked her.

  How many girls were screaming for help right now? How had they gone three Septembers without knowing what had happened?

  She used to believe that a city was just geography. Now, the realization hit her that an address was so much more than that. It contributed to who we were. It made us part of a community. Communities dictated what we allowed and what we didn’t.

  As a community, Lakemore was at the brink of a test—perhaps the most crucial test it would ever face. What would it choose? Justice for the lives of innocent women, or the sport that gave Lakemore an identity and a purpose?

  To Mackenzie, the answer was straightforward. But she knew that “right” was not just a matter of facts. It was a matter of perspective.

  Hours had bled into days. No progress had been made. The tips stopped coming in, and there had been no suspicious sightings. It was looking increasingly likely that Abby was already dead. Divers had been given the green light to cover as much of the river as they could—but they had found nothing. Was Abby still alive, or had the currents carried her corpse far away, like they had with Daphne Cho?

  Mackenzie spent days going over her notes, statements, and forensic reports. She hoped to find some answers, but was faced with more questions. She’d felt they were closing in, that the pieces were sliding into place, but as quickly as they’d picked it up, the trail had gone cold. It was infuriating.

  She avoided spending time at home. Sterling called and texted her multiple times a day. Sh
e knew she was drifting—he did too. She wondered if he was trying to hold on to her. Did he even want to? How hard would he fight for them?

  Meanwhile, Lakemore’s focus had shifted to the next football game—Sharks vs Eagles tomorrow night. It was going to be an easy victory for the Sharks. As a result, the city prepared for a celebration. Restaurants offered a discount for wearing a Sharks T-shirt. Bars were booked solid. Some streets had been shut down for victory parades.

  The news either covered the game or updates on Erica’s murder. Abby was mentioned in passing. Samuel and Gabriella were interviewed. Their pleading eyes urged the public to come forward if they had any information. They offered a whopping fifty-thousand-dollar reward to anyone who would have useful information for the police. Nick had been on the phone for the past two days—listening and confirming every piece of information. As expected, all of them were bogus tips—people preaching their theories hoping they were right and would get that money.

  Mackenzie sat at her desk holding the missing pages of the diary and going over Abby’s neat handwriting, her use of formal language, the poetic description of her fear.

  Abby had been wrong about Bill Grayson. His alibi for the time she disappeared was rock solid, and they couldn’t place him at the cabin any time in the last few weeks, although they were still working through his calendar. But someone even more twisted had picked up the dirty legacy left behind by the most beloved man in Lakemore. Someone had taken it to another level and slaughtered those girls. Like they weren’t even human, just objects to be discarded after they served their purpose.

  “Do you think Max switched out Abby’s pills?” Nick asked.

  “That scrawny kid is the new Club 916?” She turned on her chair to face him.

  “I don’t know. I’m just shooting in the dark. Nothing fits anymore.”

  “The copycat club has to have someone big. They’ve gotten away with so much.”

  “Maybe they’re just lucky bastards.” He tucked a cigarette behind his ear. “This is Lakemurder A lot of shit happens here.”

  “I hate that name.”

  “I know. For a New Yorker, you’re very loyal.”

  She ground her jaw. “Do you still think Bill Grayson is involved?”

  “Why wouldn’t he clean the blood in his cabin, Mack?”

  There was that. Her brain was going in circles. She kicked back in her chair, trying to disconnect and start from the beginning, and spotted Daniel walking to Sully’s office.

  His face was red and mouth twitchy.

  Mackenzie and Nick shot from their chairs and followed him when Lieutenant Peck appeared at Sully’s door.

  “Did you call a meeting?” Nick asked.

  “Come in,” replied Peck, leaving the door ajar.

  As soon as Mackenzie entered Sully’s office, she sensed tension thickening the air. Sully sat behind his desk with his arms crossed. Peck stood next to him with his back straight and an eyebrow raised.

  “What’s this about?” Daniel asked slowly, sitting across from Sully.

  Sully looked up at Peck.

  “Agent St. Clair,” Peck spoke. “Captain Murphy and I have decided that it’s best to take you off the case.”

  Mackenzie was standing behind Daniel, so couldn’t see his face. But she saw him grip the handles of the chair tighter and squirm in his seat.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “I talked to my boss in Chicago and to Captain Murphy. Everything was fine.”

  Peck cleared his throat. “After the way the last cases were handled, it’s best to be cautious.” His gaze lingered on Mackenzie a little longer than necessary.

  “Agent St. Clair is an important asset. We’ve been using FBI’s white-collar crime division to help us track down a shell company,” she said in a hard voice.

  “You don’t need Agent St. Clair for that. We can’t afford any more mistakes.”

  “Lieutenant Peck, there won’t be any mistakes,” Daniel assured him. “I’m just a consultant. I don’t even have access to any evidence––”

  “No one’s questioning your competency; this is a conflict of interest. It’s messy to have an officer related to one of the victims on the case. We’re grateful for your contribution. But this is the end of the road for you.”

  “Sully?” Nick said.

  Sully shrugged helplessly. But his pout screamed disapproval. Daniel fidgeted before nodding stiffly. He stood up and shook Peck’s hand: an act of professionalism. As they exchanged insincere pleasantries, Mackenzie’s eyes never left Peck.

  Had she been wrong to confront Peck about his negligence? Was this her fault? Perhaps it would have been wiser to keep quiet. She’d rattled him.

  “Detective Price,” Daniel’s face came into view. “If there’s anything I can do to help you in the future, give me a call.”

  He looked like he was going to burst. His eyes were glassy, and a vein in his forehead throbbed.

  “We’ll walk you out,” Nick said.

  Outside the building, Daniel let out a loud breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He pressed his hands into his knees, as his chest moved in waves.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Nick shook his head. “I don’t know why they changed their mind out of nowhere.”

  “Just please find out what happened to my sister.” He swallowed hard. “I… I don’t like depending on others, but I don’t have a choice anymore.”

  “We will,” Mackenzie promised.

  He turned to leave but paused. “Perhaps it’s not my place to say this, or maybe I’m too paranoid, but something bad is going on in this town.”

  She knew that. A dusty wind blew across the street. Lakemore didn’t have dust storms. Yet it seemed like one was right around the corner, with the imposing clouds hurrying across the sky and the dirt prickling her eyes. Maybe it was a sign that even a town like Lakemore could surprise you.

  Sixty-Four

  October 8

  Mackenzie never understood the appeal of the violin. There was something disruptive about the sound. It lacked the softness of the piano or the grace of the harp. She watched the man playing the instrument. It was played like a machine; the strings ground and grated.

  “Why’re we here?” Nick asked.

  The restaurant was quaint and authentic, with brown walls and red-and-white checked tablecloths. Behind Nick was a large pizza oven. The air was saturated with the smell of bread and cheese.

  “I wanted Italian food,” she replied, puzzled by her own answer.

  “You don’t have any other friends, do you?”

  “Do you want to leave?” She gnashed her teeth and raised an eyebrow.

  “No way. You’re paying. I never refuse free food.”

  “Is it my fault?” she blurted.

  “What?”

  “Peck giving Daniel the boot.”

  He pressed his lips in a thin line. “You helped.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything to Peck.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it now.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “Should I have?”

  “He doesn’t play by the rules.”

  “If he’s smart, he’ll stay away.” He went back to mulling over the menu.

  She glanced at the host and the busboys in the kitchen. She knew she was not subtle in her efforts. The door to the kitchen opened. She leaned on her side to catch a glimpse of her.

  “Are you going to eat anything?”

  “Huh?”

  He searched her eyes and dropped the menu. “Cut the crap, Mack. Why’d you bring me here?”

  “I wanted to take a break!”

  “Your idea of taking a break is reading about the latest forensic sciences. Not coming to Terroni.”

  “Bear with me,” she whispered.

  Nick’s eyebrows pulled together tautly. He didn’t say anything and went back to reading the menu.

  What was she doing? It was already hard to breathe. She tugged at her collar and fanned
the back of her neck.

  Nick stayed oddly glued to the menu. She knew he wasn’t reading it. He was waiting for her to confide in him. But the words were lodged in her throat like a lump she couldn’t swallow.

  A waitress interrupted them. She was shorter than Mackenzie—and curvier. Her hair was brown and silky and long enough to reach the tip of her breasts. Her skin was smooth caramel. Her eyes were shaped like almonds but crowned by long, arching lashes. There was a mole above the top left corner of her mouth.

  Mackenzie had never paid attention to anyone this much. She wished she could see her molecules.

  It gutted her that she was pretty. Much prettier than she was. There was a softness to her face that Mackenzie lacked. This woman looked delicate.

  “Welcome to Terroni. I’m Samantha, and I will be your server tonight. What can I get you guys to start with?”

  “W-water. No ice.”

  “Sure!” she beamed. Her smile was vibrant and her voice sweet like sugar. “What about you, sir?”

  “Same for me.” Nick looked up at her and froze.

  “I’ll be right back with some water for you guys.”

  As soon as she left, he gritted his teeth. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Three months earlier

  Mackenzie parked the car in the driveway haphazardly. She killed the engine and grabbed the heavy grocery bags from the backseat. It was four in the afternoon. Sterling would not be home for another hour at least. She had enough time to prepare his favorite stir-fry.

  She fiddled with the keys in the doorway and almost stumbled inside. By the time she set the plastic bags on the counter, there were marks around her wrists from the handles. She was going through a list of things she needed to get done when the landline trilled.

  “Hello?” She put it on speaker.

  “Hello, may I speak with Mr. Sterling Brooks, please?” a man said in a polite tone.

  “He isn’t available right now. Can I take a message?”