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

by Ruhi Choudhary

  A knowing smile spread across Mackenzie’s face. “You rot in jail, Mr. Jones. No deal.”

  “Come on! I’m sure we can work something out!” Cromwell pleaded, but they were already on their way out.

  Seventy-Three

  “I thought you were going to give him a piece of your mind,” Nick said. He fiddled with an empty pack of cigarettes. “You gave up quickly.”

  “No point in appealing to his conscience. He thinks he’s in the right. Let him go to prison believing it.”

  “We have to find some other way to link Bill Grayson to them. Hopefully, the crime scene investigators will find something, but Bill’s alibis have been rock-solid. And why didn’t he clean up his cabin?”

  “Because I don’t think Bill is the third member.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her stomach squeezed. “He said we were a team.”

  The television outside their office played highlights of the game. Some officers were gathered around, watching intently. There was uproar. They cheered and guffawed, slapping each other’s backs. Would things change?

  The arrest of Nathaniel Jones had been kept strictly under wraps. As had the discovery of Abby Correia. It was important to gather statements and evidence before the media trampled over everything. The other departments were not aware either. But this information couldn’t be contained for too long. How would Lakemore respond?

  A few lives are a small price to pay for the livelihood and joy of thousands.

  Nick fired up his computer and began searching for a picture from the years Nathaniel Jones was on the team.

  “David was on the team with him,” Mackenzie reminded him. “Nathaniel never played much at college because of his injury, and David didn’t go to the same school anyway, so we’re looking at the time they were on the Sharks together.”

  “1988.”

  The picture loaded on the screen, washed-out in color and slightly faded and crimped in the corners. A scanned picture uploaded onto the internet. Her eyes flitted over the smiling faces of young men—seemingly innocent.

  “I’m sure I can find a better picture if I dig through some archives.”

  “It must be one of them, right?”

  “Unless he didn’t literally mean being on a team. But I’ll ask Jenna to get a list, and we can begin crossing them out.”

  Mackenzie’s mind swam as she stared at the picture. A little piece of Lakemore’s glorified history built on lies and conspiracies.

  David Falkner, a punter, stood in one corner. He wore a shy smile and a mullet hairstyle. Then there was the proud star quarterback, Nathaniel Jones. He looked like Quinn, a smolder marring his face.

  She skimmed over the other faces and wondered about what went wrong. They all looked like normal boys. What happened to the two of them?

  They were worshipped. Maybe that was it. Maybe power did corrupt. Even their jerseys were sold for thousands of dollars in auctions.

  It was then she noticed David’s jersey.

  Number nine.

  Out of curiosity, she searched for Nathaniel Jones’s jersey. It was partially obscured. But it was unmistakably number six.

  This couldn’t have been a coincidence. They picked these numbers on purpose.

  We were a team.

  Nathaniel Jones had meant it literally. It had slipped out—in his arrogance and temper—and he didn’t even realize it.

  Her heart pounded like a jackhammer. She found the boy with jersey number one.

  His face was younger, of course—he was a scrawny version of his current self.

  Her blood ran cold. “Nick, ‘916’ is not a date in the new club’s name. It stands for jersey numbers. Look who’s number one.”

  Nick peered at the screen, then his eyes opened wide. “Samuel Perez.”

  Seventy-Four

  1997

  There was something visceral about thunderstorms. Summers and winters were stagnant. But storms were when nature danced, hunted, sang, and cried.

  Mackenzie never saw them as an inconvenience. She saw them as nature being its most natural.

  She sat on the porch steps, hugging her knees. Branches writhed under the wind. The weak ones flew away, lifeless. The starless sky stretched endlessly, its blackness merciless and cold. She waited for a miracle to pluck her out of this life and thrust her into normalcy.

  “Where’s your mother?” her father griped from behind.

  “Sleeping.” She turned. “You can hang out with me if you want to.”

  His eyes tapered, but she held her innocent smile. Inwardly, she prayed that Robert would listen to her and not find Melody, only to hit her.

  He grunted and sat next to her on the step. She caught a whiff of alcohol. She waited for him to start drinking. Instead, he laced his fingers and rested his elbows on his knees. His fingers shook, the corners of his mouth twitched, and she knew that he was craving a taste. But for some reason, he was resisting it.

  She watched her father. He watched the storm.

  Briefly, he closed his eyes, like he was cherishing the wind playing with his hair and swishing up his arms. And she saw the father she always wanted. He was still in there. There was something to be salvaged.

  “Do you like storms?”

  “Yes.” He took a sniff. “They have a smell.”

  Mackenzie took a deep breath. “I just smell rain.”

  “I smell thunder.”

  She chuckled. “Thunder only has a sound, Daddy.”

  “That’s where creativity comes in, Micky. Trying to find something no one else notices.”

  “Doesn’t that mean it’s not there?”

  He smiled. It cracked her heart open. She hadn’t seen him smile in months.

  “It is there. Just waiting for you to discover it.”

  She rested her head on his arm. His muscles flexed, and she wondered if she’d crossed a line. But she didn’t want to leave his side. It felt normal. Finally, something felt normal. He raised a hand—hesitant, almost reluctant.

  Her smile began to wilt.

  But then, he patted her head.

  She beamed. She didn’t move a muscle. Together, they watched the storm in silence.

  October 13, 2018

  Nick opened the door and helped Mackenzie climb out of the car. She’d woken with a swollen knee, the result of her fight with Falkner the day before. Her feet landed in a puddle. He held the umbrella above them. Rain fell like a waterfall. The Perez house was barely visible beyond the cascade. The bottom of their legs were drenched.

  She sniffed, trying to smell the thunder. But there was none.

  This rain had washed it out.

  It reminded her of the rains that poured toward the end of the rainy season back in New York. They signified the end, the climax.

  “Sully will be mad,” Nick shouted over the sound of the rain thrashing against all surfaces. “We should’ve told him.”

  “I think he’ll be relieved,” she said. “If we tell him, he’ll have to tell Peck. This way, we’re the only bad guys here.”

  Another car glided toward them. Its headlights made the raindrops shimmer. The car parked behind Nick’s and its engine switched off. The door opened, and Daniel climbed out without an umbrella.

  Water soaked into his black suit and curly hair, running down his face. “Hey! Thanks for the call.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mackenzie said. “You don’t have an umbrella again?”

  He laughed. “I don’t want to get too used to this place.”

  “You won’t have to. Ready to go in?”

  “Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Are we sure?”

  “Nick called ahead. Samuel is expecting us.”

  They knocked on the door. After a few seconds, there was a click.

  Samuel’s head emerged in the space between the double doors. His black hair stood in spikes. His beard had grown longer since Mackenzie had last seen him. He was anything but groomed. She could even see his nose hair
sticking out of his nostrils. His eyes skimmed over them—unfocused and aloof. “Come in.”

  He left the door open. They removed their shoes and coats in the foyer. Samuel walked ahead of them with an idle gait and hunched back.

  “Did you smell the alcohol on him?” Daniel whispered.

  Mackenzie nodded.

  “Let’s talk in my study,” Samuel said.

  The room was woody and spacious. His gleaming pine desk sat across from the entrance. The walls of the room curved into an arch and had built-in bookshelves. Behind his desk, there was a window facing the backyard. All Mackenzie saw was churning blackness.

  Samuel turned on a single lamp and dragged his feet to his chair. There was a half-empty bottle of vodka on the table. There was also a picture of Erica. He picked it up and hugged it to his chest.

  He breathed hard. His nose was red. The corners of his eyes brimmed with tears. “What do you want?”

  Mackenzie shifted on her heels. He mourned Erica. The Samuel Perez she had seen around fundraisers and charity events had disappeared.

  “We found Abby,” Nick said, warily. But Samuel sniffed and nodded, not looking at them.

  “Good.”

  “David Falkner was killed during the rescue,” he elaborated. “We arrested Nathaniel Jones for his involvement.”

  Samuel closed his eyes. “I see.”

  Mackenzie said, “Nathaniel gave us some disturbing information. We know what you did.”

  “You know what I remember the most?” He winced as if in pain. “I remember Erica trying to sneak into this room when she was a baby. She was probably around two years old. I’d be working and I’d look down, and there she was on the floor with a mischievous smile on her face. Whenever I hear a sound, I look for her again. It’s instinct.”

  They sat in knee-deep silence. There was nothing left to say. She could see Nick struggle inside—to sympathize with another father or remember what he had done.

  “It doesn’t get better.” His voice broke. He gasped and held the picture tighter. “It gets worse. I just want her back. I’ll give anything. Anything. I don’t want to live in this world without her. I can’t even breathe. I… She was everything, Detective Blackwood. She was the beginning and the end and everything in between.”

  Tears streamed down his face as his chest shook violently.

  Mackenzie noticed a gun under one of the files on the table. She jerked up straight. Her skin felt taut. She looked at Nick and Daniel, but they seemed oblivious. Slowly, she moved closer to the table.

  “Why did you join Club 916?” she asked, to distract Perez.

  “I was lost. It got to my head. The power. The money. How easy everything came. Back then, when we played football and partied afterwards, things seemed simpler. We’d heard about the original club and wanted to pay tribute to them. That’s why we specifically requested those numbers. I wanted to feel that sense of brotherhood again. It was just supposed to be fun.”

  “Fun?” Daniel repeated in a tight voice.

  “We always went after girls who wouldn’t be missed. That foster care runaway. Your sister? I didn’t know she had a family, Agent St. Clair. It was David’s job to pick the girls. He obviously made a mistake. He grabbed her when she was on her way to the bus station. I would never hurt someone who had a family. Never. I… I had a child too.”

  Mackenzie moved closer to the table. “What about Abby? She had a family. You knew her too.”

  “Abby was a mistake. I had no idea David had taken her until I got to the cabin. He told me he’d found her at Bill’s. He has a key. She said something about looking for 916, and he panicked and hit her on the head. Abby swore that she knew nothing. But we didn’t know what to believe anymore. When David attacked her, he put us all in danger.”

  Swiftly, Mackenzie swiped the gun off the table. The movement drew all eyes in her direction. Shock crossed Nick and Daniel’s faces. Samuel looked at her with a wan smile. “I’ll find another way, Detective Price.”

  “Who killed them?” Nick asked. “Something tells me it wasn’t you.”

  “It wasn’t!” he bellowed. “I never wanted to kill those girls. But David took it to another level. He even ordered personalized paper napkins online. He came up with a logo and got it printed on some border design from a strip club he liked. He wanted to be more creative. Like we were a cult. I didn’t know why he branded that girl either. I swear. He was violent with them. Nathaniel was indifferent. But I cared. I had a daughter. They don’t have daughters. They didn’t understand. You have no idea how many times I fought with him over this. I cared.”

  “Just enough to rape them, but not kill them,” Daniel snapped.

  “I’m sorry.” Samuel wiped his face with his sleeves. “I had this urge that I couldn’t control. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know why. Sometimes, I go crazy thinking about it. My daughter deserved a better father.”

  “Keep talking,” Nick ordered.

  “We looked the other way. We let David do whatever he wanted; he couldn’t be reasoned with. He was mad. Nathaniel had a monopoly over the media. He ensured the attention was focused on other things. He got Hawkins’ computer hacked into when it all started. He was a dangerous reporter; he was that good. Peck is a good friend. Of course, he had no idea what was happening, but he was easy to influence. I would fill his ears with suggestions. I made sure the authorities weren’t looking into this seriously. Always knew what to say, how to shift attention.”

  Like cutting the budget for investigating Abby’s disappearance, Mackenzie thought. And more…

  “Like the burglaries in Lakemore?” she asked.

  “Y-yes.” With shaking hands, Samuel swigged the remaining vodka, unfazed. “I paid them to steal and helped them get out of town. Timed them around the same time as the girls were taken. Even made Nathaniel the first target so that no one suspected us.”

  “But then why Arthur Bishop in January, and Mayor Rathbone after that? Why not your home, or Falkner’s?”

  “To throw off anyone who was looking for a pattern. Hawkins, especially. Plus, I never liked Bishop.”

  “That’s how that cocktail napkin ended up in Erica’s room? It came from you,” Nick said.

  “I must have been careless. I didn’t even realize it had ended up in her room until you told me about it.”

  “When did Erica find out what you did?” Nick asked.

  “No!” He was aghast. “No! I made sure that never happened.”

  “Then why did you kill her?”

  His last thread of sanity slipped. A look of utter belligerence crossed his face. “I didn’t kill Erica! How c-could you? I’d rather die a thousand times. Club 916 didn’t select any girl that year. How could we?”

  “I know you didn’t kill her,” Mackenzie said gently. Nick’s head whipped to her, puzzled. Unaffected, she continued. “Chloe was never found. Do you know what David did with her body?”

  Samuel swallowed hard and glanced at Daniel. “He buried her behind his cabin, in the woods. After Daphne’s body was found by the police in Tacoma, we had to be more careful. That’s why he refused to sell his property to that construction company.”

  Mackenzie kneeled next to him. She wondered when he’d last showered. His dark eyes had never been that dim. The muscles of his face hung off his bones loosely. He looked like life was being sucked out of him slowly. His mind was preying on his body.

  Did this man deserve even a shred of her sympathy? Her brain told her he didn’t. Then why was her heart squeezing at the sight of him mourning his daughter?

  “You know what happens next,” she whispered.

  He nodded slowly and placed Erica’s picture back on the table. “Do you think my daughter was punished for my sins?”

  “Whose sins were the other girls punished for? I don’t believe in karma. I think some of us are just unlucky.” She looked at Daniel and nodded.

  Daniel stood up and pulled out handcuffs from his pocket. His ches
t swelled. When he spoke, his chin trembled. “Samuel Perez, you are under arrest for the abduction, rape, and murder of Daphne Cho and Chloe St. Clair. You are under arrest for the abduction, rape and unlawful imprisonment of Abigail Correia. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  Daniel continued reading him his rights and pulled his hands behind his back. Samuel looked at Erica’s picture one last time before Daniel marched him out the room.

  “What the hell was that?” Nick asked. “You knew he didn’t kill her?”

  “Did you not look at him? And he pressured the mayor and Peck into consulting the FBI, remember? Why would he want those resources hunting him down? When we tied Erica’s case in with the other three, his cronies must have then wanted Murphy and Peck to cut ties with Daniel.”

  “Jesus, of course. I thought he was festering in his own guilt. Feels like we’re back to square one with Erica. 916 didn’t take her…” His voice trailed off.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we should look into Bishop again. He’s the only person who benefited from Erica’s death. And he had Eddy working for him. Can’t put murder past that guy.”

  “You didn’t think he did it before. Remember the mob rule? Don’t touch the family.”

  “Well, I’m running out of options here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe Abby came across something in her investigation. Will the hospital allow us to see her now?”

  Mackenzie bit her lip. “Let me talk to Abby alone.”

  “Why?”

  “She was raped, Nick,” she said pointedly. “By multiple men. I’m not sure if she’ll be comfortable enough to talk around you.”

  “Oh, right. Of course.”

  “Just give me a few minutes with her alone. Let me make her feel comfortable.”

  Seventy-Five

  Mackenzie’s heels clicked on the tiled floor. She inhaled deeply, feeling the air ruffle against the hair in her nose and rush down her windpipe. People walked past her. But all she saw were blurry shapes and colors. Everything moved around her slowly. Even her heart beat lazily. There was a vacuum in her ears.