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

by Ruhi Choudhary

  Dead silence.

  She turned a corner and reached a room. A cold tingle crawled up her leg. She knew where it came from. She saw him from the corner of her eye.

  Her father’s ghost stood at the end of the hallway.

  She tore her eyes away and knocked on the door. The sound cut through her imagination. The sounds were loud again—machines beeped, footsteps scuffled, and doors clicked and banged.

  “Come in,” a raspy voice came from inside.

  Abby rested on the bed with a drip inserted in her right arm. A bandage was wrapped around her left foot. Dressed in a purple hospital gown, her skin had patches of bluish green pigmentation.

  She was plain. She had the kind of face that doesn’t stick in your head. Her nose was long and slightly crooked. The crescent scar was her only blemish. She was frail. Like a pile of bones on the bed. “Detective Price, I thought visiting hours were over.”

  “They are. But I told them it was an emergency. The badge helps. Where’s your mom?”

  Abby followed her eyes to the black gym bag sitting on a chair. “She went to her shift at Remington’s.”

  “What?”

  Abby’s smile was bleak. “Yeah. How else are we going to pay the hospital bills, right?”

  “Sorry. How do you feel?”

  “Better.”

  “You’ve been through a lot.”

  She flushed pink and gripped her neck. “I will be fine. I have to be.”

  “Are you well enough to talk?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry for before. I was mumbling most things.”

  “It’s okay. As you know, David Falkner was killed at the cabin, but I want you to know that we have arrested Nathaniel Jones and Samuel Perez. The other two men who were responsible for what happened.”

  “Mr. P-Perez?” she stammered. “A-are you sure?”

  “Yes. He confessed. Of course, we’re in the process of matching the DNA now.”

  “Oh!” She clamped her hand on her forehead. “That… I can’t believe that! I’ve known him for years.”

  “Yes. You were very brave, Abby. Max told us everything.”

  “Max? What did he say?”

  “How you decided to go after Club 916 alone. You left clues for us in your journal too. You helped us solve the case. You might have been wrong about Bill, but you shed light on what happened in this town decades ago. That’s something.”

  “I don’t know.” She blushed. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

  “I feel like I’ve gotten to know you a lot. I’m sorry I read your diary. It was personal, but the concept of privacy doesn’t exist during an investigation.”

  “I understand. I’m a little embarrassed…”

  “Don’t be. I wish I’d been like you when I was young, Abby.” Mackenzie paced the room. “Your ambition, your focus, your intelligence. They’re all very admirable qualities.”

  “I wish others felt the same,” she blurted.

  “People can be so… small, can’t they?”

  “Yes. They can be,” Abby replied thoughtfully.

  “They don’t see the potential. They only see what’s on the surface.”

  Abby folded her hands in her lap. “All my life, I’ve struggled with this. Struggled to get people to see the real me. To see what I’m capable of. I used to think I was doing something wrong. Until I realized that it’s their insecurities that keep them in denial.”

  “Well, they won’t be in denial anymore.” A proud smile played on Mackenzie’s lips. “Tomorrow, the world will know that you have returned and how you survived. They will know how brave you were.”

  Abby’s eyes lit up. She sputtered a nervous laugh. “You think so? I was afraid they would look at me like I’m a freak or––”

  “Of course not! You are Lakemore’s hero. You’ve brought justice to multiple women. You exposed Lakemore’s darkest secret.”

  Delirious enthusiasm clouded Abby’s face as she tried to contain a smile threatening to break free.

  “Who would have thought a young woman would be instrumental in bringing down the most powerful men in the city? It’s going to make headlines around the country.”

  “No, no, I don’t want all that!” Abby protested. But her toes and fingers wiggled in excitement. “Do you really think that people will care?”

  “Of course they will. People will finally see you. Appreciate you.”

  “You think so?”

  “Why shouldn’t they? It’s exactly what you deserve for your courage and sacrifice.”

  Abby’s eyes widened with every word coming out Mackenzie’s mouth. Her chest swelled, like she was feeding off the praise and what Mackenzie was promising her.

  “People searched hard for you, Abby. Everyone was very concerned. We had so many volunteers. Even Quinn came forward, wanting to help find you.”

  “Q-Quinn?” A blush crept up her face.

  “Yes.” Mackenzie’s face fell. “If only Erica were here…”

  Abby looked at her, puzzled at the sudden shift in mood. She blinked vehemently. “Of course, Erica! I… I… I still can’t believe what happened.”

  “You really cared about her, didn’t you?”

  “I did, I did. I can’t believe her own father did this.” She looked away and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s disgusting.”

  Mackenzie regarded her warily. “Do you think about her?”

  “All the time.”

  “If she were here, what would you say to her?”

  “What a strange question.”

  “When I was trying to save you, I used to think about you a lot. I used to think about what happened to you. What you were doing at that moment. What you would say if I found you. I just wondered, since you were trying to do the right thing by Erica, if you thought about her?”

  “Yes! I did! I-I do. She’s still my best friend.” Her smile was strained. “She’s everywhere.”

  “Some people never leave you.”

  “They don’t. They haunt you.”

  “Do you ever think about her last moments? I thought about yours when I wondered if you were dead.”

  “Y-yes.” Abby swallowed.

  “What would you say to her?” Mackenzie whispered. “If she were here, what would your last words to her be?”

  “I would say I’m sorry and that she didn’t deserve this.” She raised her hand but froze. It fell limp on her lap.

  “I wonder what her last thought was when she died. Did she think about everyone she loved?”

  Abby recoiled, like she’d been slapped. “Probably.”

  “You have nightmares.”

  “Yes.” A shudder raked through her. “I do.”

  “Like what?” Mackenzie grazed her back soothingly. “What do you see?”

  “I see… I see her with big eyes.” Abby pressed a hand to her chest. “I see her draw her breath through her teeth. She always did that when she was angry. Oh my God. My heart’s racing.”

  “It’s okay. Hush. What else?”

  “I see her reaching out to me.” Abby almost touched the scar on her face lightly. “She must have pressed her hands against her ears. She did that when she was shocked. She must have done that when she saw who betrayed her.” Abby’s body rocked back and forth in a trance. Her eyes were fixated on a spot on the wall. She didn’t cry, but her face was red. Like she was about to burst anytime. She kept patting her chest, as if to soothe her racing heart. “She stands in front of me, holding her hand as she writhes in pain. Blood gushing down her arm. I can see her falling. She must have fallen. I can hear the thud.”

  “Why would she hold her hand?”

  “I don’t know. Someone hit her!”

  “She fell where?”

  “On the ground. In the mud?” She shook her head.

  “Why was her arm bleeding?”

  “I… I can’t think. I need a nurse. Please.”

  “Was it a knife?”

  “No! Yes! I don’t know!” Ab
by held her head. “I’m getting a headache!”

  But Mackenzie didn’t stop. She kept pushing. She kept pressing. “We’re close. Think. It was your nightmare.”

  “It was her finger. It was bleeding.”

  “Which finger?”

  “Her ring finger. Does it matter?” She growled the question. Then she froze, the color draining from her face.

  Slowly, Abby turned to look at Mackenzie. The torture on her face had evaporated. Her mouth hung agape. Stunned surprise painted her plain face.

  Mackenzie smiled. “You killed her, Abigail.”

  Seventy-Six

  Mackenzie straightened and craned her neck—tired after her act. Abby’s eyes remained locked on her. She walked around the bed and plopped herself down on the seat. She waited. She watched the wheels in Abby’s brain turn. But she also saw her exhaustion. Strung up in the hospital, medicines and painkillers pumped into her, her body and mind subjected to extreme trauma.

  At the end of the day, no matter how smart, Abby was still a teenager.

  Mackenzie drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. She had another role to play now. Her stare became unyielding and rigid. To the naked eye, all her empathy was gone. She was cool as a cucumber. When Abby didn’t say anything, Mackenzie said, “We found red and gold fibers in Erica’s mouth. It came from her Lakemore High scarf. We found enough for touch DNA.”

  It was a bluff. There was not enough genetic material. A year had passed in extremely fluctuating conditions, as the grave was shallow. The samples had been compromised. But it was Mackenzie’s last attempt.

  After what seemed like forever, Abby spoke.

  “How long have you known?”

  “I suspected something the moment Max confessed about you two planning your disappearance,” she said. “I was surprised that you included him in your plan. Max is too sloppy for you. He has nothing you value. Not powerful, not especially intelligent. Well, he was book-smart. That’s it. Strange how you never even mentioned him in your diary. Like he didn’t matter at all to you; someone who claimed to have become good friends with you.”

  She snorted. “You claim to know me well?”

  “You revealed too much in your journal. That’s the problem with perfectionists. They go overboard.”

  “So, you figured everything out.” She sunk her head in the pillow and looked up. “Do you want to know why?”

  “I know why. The oldest reason in the book: jealousy.”

  Abby shot up in bed. Her wild brown hair fell on her shoulders. “No! You still don’t understand. It wasn’t about jealousy.”

  “Then what?”

  “Ambition.” She sounded resigned. “I wanted more. More than what this town was ready to give me.”

  “So, you killed Erica. You thought it would get you attention through sympathy.”

  “I didn’t mean to kill her. It just happened.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “Erica was getting away from me because of Quinn. I would have been a forgotten friend. I might as well not have ever existed.”

  “Which is why you systematically broke her ties with them all. You spread rumors about Quinn cheating. Didn’t let her get too close to anyone else. You did all this to keep Erica to yourself. She was your ticket to recognition.”

  “I mattered,” she confessed in a small voice. “Even if it was just by association. But Quinn was in love with her. He kept trying to get back together with her, and she was reconsidering. She texted me that night that she wanted to see me. I knew that Quinn had convinced her that I was lying.”

  “Erica wanted to confront you. She couldn’t believe that her best friend was lying to her and had sabotaged her relationship.”

  “I was her best friend!” Abby yelped with wild, fluttering eyes. “I pushed her to be excellent. I tutored her. I listened to her go on and on about her insecurities with her body. I encouraged her to focus on her studies and to be a better version of herself. That’s what best friends do. Without me, she would have accomplished nothing except for being born in the right family. She thought she was incapable of more. Of course, I knew better.”

  “You knew better than Hannah, too. But she wouldn’t listen to you either.”

  A disappointed but brittle smile curled Abby’s lips. Quietly, she wiped a tear. “The only useful thing that woman has done is give birth to me. I recognize a hopeless case when I see one. Then she had to go and blackmail Arthur Bishop, of all the people. What a stupid thing to do.”

  “Going back to that night, Erica left to confront you when you didn’t reply.”

  “I had left my place to see her. I thought I could explain myself better in person. I could appeal to her generosity. She saw me in the woods.”

  “You got into a fight.”

  “I came up with every excuse in the world. Begged for forgiveness. Cried. But she was so sick of me. She said I was obsessed with her, in love with her. That I was pathetic. Bringing her down.” Her lips quivered. “Can you believe that? Those words hurt me the most.”

  “After everything you invested in that relationship.”

  Abby rested her head on the pillowcase, dejected and tired. “After how I dedicated myself to her and our friendship. Of course, I got mad. We started hitting each other. I picked up a rock. She tried to push me away and broke her nail on my face. She stood there, crying and cursing me. I bashed the rock against her head, and she collapsed. I panicked… I-I thought she was dead. I buried her. Dug with my hands. Took me hours.” She glared at her broken nails, bored. “Look at them. They’re ugly now.”

  “But Erica’s death didn’t work in your favor.” Mackenzie’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out and snuck a glance. A message from Nick.

  Ready when you are.

  “Even after she was dead, everything was about her. No one cared about the best friend,” Mackenzie prompted.

  “Nope.” Abby’s smile was distressed. “People tolerated me before. They could pretend I existed because of her. With her gone, they went back to ignoring me completely. I grieved her death. I would cry. I would have breakdowns. But no one looked.” Her voice dropped to a whimper. “Isn’t that sad? When nobody cares about you?”

  “You hatched a plan.” She ignored the strange sincerity in Abby’s eyes. Like she genuinely yearned for care. “When Erica’s death didn’t give you the attention you wanted, you decided to be the victim yourself. You took advantage of the fact that Erica’s case was unsolved. And then you heard about Club 916.”

  “From my grandmother, when I was visiting her at the retirement home.” She shrugged callously. “She wasn’t lucid and went on a rant about football players and their privileges in this town. Apparently, they targeted her back in the day.”

  “You decided to plant the seeds that there was a new Club 916 and that they had killed Erica. You started acting paranoid and scared. You pretended to be investigating. Even wrote about how terrified and upset you were over the Monster. You manipulated your journal. Entries were missing from random dates. It was strange how you wrote in blue ballpoint pen with enough force to leave an imprint on the other side. But the missing entries and the entry about you never giving up on Erica were written in black pen. The handwriting was so neat and clean. Why would your pen and style of writing switch randomly? You wrote those later. They were staged.”

  Abby ground her jaw. “Max got annoying. He wouldn’t leave me alone. It was so obvious he was in love with me. Have you seen him?”

  “Quinn was your type. You even tried kissing him after Erica died. You were ready to swoop in and be the shoulder for him to cry on. But Quinn actually was loyal to Erica. Even after she died.”

  “Can you believe that? Erica gets the perfect face, the perfect family, and the perfect boyfriend. She didn’t have to lift a finger. She was just handed everything on a platter. What did I get? Insults? Negligence? Poverty? Max? He was poking into my business too much. I had to think quickly. I told him I was going after
Club 916 alone.”

  “But you didn’t tell him everything.”

  “No. I knew the police would look into my disappearance. I left clues. I left Erica’s phone and the money at the gas station, knowing it would lead you to believe that I was being blackmailed.”

  “But Eddy saw you.”

  “He threatened me. Told me to tell Hannah to stop poking her nose in Bishop’s business, or he’d be seeing me again.”

  “You also switched out your pills to throw us off.”

  She nodded stiffly. She stared into empty space, mindlessly rubbing the scar on her face—the remnants of her betrayal.

  The plan was to be found in Bill Grayson’s cabin after Max tipped off the cops. Abby had never intended to return before. But Max didn’t know that. Bill would be arrested for the entire thing, which was poetic justice, seeing as he was responsible for what happened fifty years ago.

  Abby Correia would return as the town hero. The girl who endured torture and abuse to get her friend justice.

  “But you made one big mistake.”

  “Yes.” Abby’s face pinched in horror. “I didn’t know that there was a Club 916. I went to Bill’s cabin, and David Falkner was there. The rest is… history.”

  She fell silent. Abby reminded Mackenzie of a Pollock painting, igniting confusion and anger inside her. She was a jumble of random explosions of evil and bereavement. One moment, she was a narcissist with a superiority complex; the next, she was a girl who had been chained, raped, and tortured. She was both those things at once.

  There was not only wildness and violence, but also raw pain.

  “Aren’t you going to arrest me?”

  She looked so young. Just an ordinary girl, but with bruises all over her body only hinting at what they’d done to her. It scraped Mackenzie’s heart.

  “You don’t seem very upset about it.”

  A smug smile tugged up Abby’s lips, but didn’t reach her eyes. “What jury is going to throw me in jail after what happened to me?” She flinched at her own words. “It would have been better if you never figured it out, but there’s no such thing as bad publicity, Detective Price. I might not be the town hero I had hoped to be. But I am something. I’ll forever be on the map now. Just one Google search away. No one can ignore me now. I could be an activist later in life. I could get my own reality show. Maybe someone will make a Netflix documentary or a true crime podcast. The possibilities are endless. This is what is called making the best of a bad situation. In the end, it all worked out.”