After a few minutes, she heard the front door open and shut. She released the breath she was holding. Sobs constricted her throat. She slumped to the kitchen floor, crying, her hand clamped over her mouth.
She had spent her entire life smothering her instincts and trying to escape the demons in her head. She had morphed herself into the immaculate wife and the perfectionist police officer. Now, it felt like the drugs had worn off.
Everything was slowly seeping out of her. It was like Sterling had not only twisted the knife deep in her chest, but left it cracked open for everyone to see her ugliness.
Epilogue
One week later
One thing Mackenzie never did was wallow—at least on the outside. She prepared her smoothie and went for a run. She was determined not to let Sterling hold her back. That’s why she ran faster and longer than ever before. She didn’t know whether to leave him or not. All she knew was that she needed him to stay away for a while.
She was ambivalent about living alone. Sterling was the only strong link she had to a normal life. Without him, she was left pondering her past and fearing nightmares and hallucinations. He was responsible for bringing her into the real world—a world where it was uncommon to help your mother bury your father’s body. With him gone, would she be back in the dark place in her mind?
Vincent Hawkins had cut out the local papers and sold his story to the Seattle Times. It had dominated the news cycle in Washington and beyond since. Even the leading newspapers and channels owned by Nathaniel Jones had featured his story. After all, nothing came before a good story for the media. The directors had kicked Nathaniel off the board after his arrest. Now they profited off his crimes.
Lakemore’s Heroes Fall: “Club 916” charged with brutal rape and murder of two women
The article detailed the crimes of Samuel Perez, Nathaniel Jones, and David Falkner. It exposed the old Club 916 and the involvement of Bill Grayson, which led to national coverage. The Arthur Bishop case would follow when the FBI were ready. Abby’s arrest had made headlines too, but she was still an anonymous figure in the Club 916 case, so the two stories hadn’t been fully linked for now. Something told Mackenzie that Abby might apply to waive her anonymity in the 916 case, to try to take control of the situation.
That wouldn’t surprise her, but the last part of Hawkins’ article had:
Where does this leave Lakemore? As the pillars of our community fall, we will be forced to reevaluate what we stand for. Football has been the life of Lakemore. It has brought us recognition, jobs, and, most importantly, a purpose. But somewhere we got confused. We began worshipping the players instead of the sport. We have to learn to separate them. We have to remember that players are humans—and humans are flawed. Punishing them for their mistakes does not mean turning our backs on the sport. Lakemore will still stand united. Lakemore will survive. But it might take us a while to get there. Because one of the many things sports teaches us is to honor heroes. And Lakemore will never honor the villains whose actions destroyed innocent lives and threatened to tarnish football in this city.
Vincent’s words were impactful. The Lakemore PD was getting several calls—women who were assaulted by the old Club 916 were coming forward to tell their stories. They were scared and silenced back then. But today, after almost fifty years, they demanded justice. They realized that times had changed. Maybe now they would be taken seriously.
An investigation was opened into Bill Grayson. Mackenzie was uncertain where it would lead five decades after the crimes were committed. The statute of limitations had long passed. The victims had been at least sixteen years of age; the sexual crimes weren’t against minors according to the law. But people and the system were listening to them.
Sometimes, that alone was enough.
A change was coming to Lakemore. Its idols were disgraced; its heroes unmasked and revealed to be villains. There were rumors that the FBI was going to investigate Lakemore PD and the mayor’s office for corruption, considering Samuel Perez’s political reach.
After work that evening, Mackenzie took a hot bubble bath and then decided to make banana cream pancakes. She played Vera Lynn’s song “We’ll Meet Again” on the speakers. After the long soak, she felt lighter, like the knots in her body had come undone. She would think about Sterling some other day. She would think about what this case could do to Lakemore later. Tonight, she decided to enjoy.
She stirred the mouth-watering batter. Vera’s rich voice crooned in the background: “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again…”
The doorbell rang. She paused. Was it Sterling? He knew better than to show up unannounced. She checked the clock. It was nine in the evening. She peered through the window overlooking the garden. There was no other car parked in the driveway.
The bell rang again.
It was probably her neighbor, Mrs. McNeill, wanting to borrow something.
But when she opened the door, her legs almost buckled. Fear paralyzed her. It was the kind of fear that didn’t even raise hairs on the body to send a warning. It just gripped her into an uncanny stillness. It slunk up her spine and threatened to snap it in half. Her heart lifted and came crashing back down. Her brain didn’t protest. It didn’t function anymore. Blankness seeped into it and spread through her synapses.
It wasn’t possible.
No. No. No.
Her father stood in front of her.
He was not a hallucination or a ghost. Wearing a black coat and jeans, he looked aged. His thinning hair was white, just like the hair on his jaw. His skin was sagged and wrinkled. But it was unmistakably him.
She felt the earth tilt.
He was alive.
“Micky.” He smiled. Twenty years had made his voice raspier. “It’s been a long time.”
You have to help me bury him.
The smell of pine and cedar.
Mud like dough in between her toes.
Melody’s shallow breathing while digging the grave.
Dried blood under her fingernails.
“It can’t be,” she whispered, unable to pry her eyes off him.
When her brain recovered, her only thought was: If her father was here, who had they buried in the woods that night?
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Books by Ruhi Choudhary
The Detective Mackenzie Price Series
Hidden Lake
A Letter From Ruhi
Dear Reader,
I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read Hidden Lake. If you enjoyed it, and want to keep up to date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
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There are no writers without readers. Which is why I am immensely grateful for the time and imagination that you’ve invested in my book. Mackenzie Price is a character whose voice grew stronger in my head and I just had to put her on paper. I hope you enjoyed reading about her and her hometown Lakemore—a fictional city but one that feels very real to me.
I’d love to know your thoughts, so if you could leave a review that would be much appreciated! Reviews make a huge difference and help my stories reach out to new readers. Any support from you as I embark on my writing journey would mean the world to me. You can also connect with me on Twitter.
Once again, thank you for reading and I hope you’ll come back for more!
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Ruhi
Acknowledgments
Writing is a lonely job, but publishing is all about teamwork. I
’m extremely grateful to the following people.
My amazing editor Lucy Dauman for her razor-sharp editing skills, for enhancing this story, and for her enthusiasm and commitment. I am very lucky to be working with someone who has a keen eye for detail and is so incredibly talented.
Christina Demosthenous who has been instrumental in shaping this story. I am indebted to her for giving me an opportunity and her continued support.
Editors, Fraser Crichton and Abby Parsons, the designer, Chris Shamwana, and publicist, Noelle Holten, for their hard work and passion. The entire team at Bookouture is dedicated and excellent.
My wonderful parents for their unconditional love and encouragement.
My best friend, Akanksha Nair, for reading my stories all these years, her brutally honest and helpful feedback, and her brilliant insights.
All my friends, especially Dafni Giannari, Scott Proulx, Kaushik Raj, Danyal Rehman, and Sheida Stephens for their excitement.
Most of all, I am grateful to the readers. Thank you so much for taking the time! I appreciate each and every one of you, and would love to hear what you thought of the book.
We – both author and publisher – hope you enjoyed this book. We believe that you can become a reader at any time in your life, but we’d love your help to give the next generation a head start.
Did you know that 9% of children don’t have a book of their own in their home, rising to 13% in disadvantaged families*? We’d like to try to change that by asking you to consider the role you could play in helping to build readers of the future.
We’d love you to get involved by sharing, borrowing, reading, buying or talking about a book with a child in your life and spreading the love of reading. We want to make sure the next generation continues to have access to books, wherever they come from.
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Thank you.
*As reported by the National Literacy Trust
Published by Bookouture in 2020
An imprint of Storyfire Ltd.
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
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Copyright © Ruhi Choudhary, 2020
Ruhi Choudhary has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-83888-826-8
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Our Daughter's Bones: An absolutely gripping crime fiction novel (Detective Mackenzie Price Book 1) Page 33