An hour later, she was still rereading and going over her meetings with everyone from the case. She had Katy’s Twitter account open. Some of her followers were tagging her and asking her questions—others directing them to the news reports of her disappearance.
She stared at Katy’s profile picture, her confident and carefree smile such a contrast from the woman she’d met. It was as if the pregnancy was sucking the life out of her. Or maybe her public persona was just that—a persona. A facade.
Her eye caught on Katy’s earrings in the picture. They were crystal teardrops. She looked at the pictures of her room. On a side table, next to the lamp, sat some gold earrings. It was the same pair Mackenzie had complimented the other day. She took out a magnifying glass and inspected them closely. They were clip-on.
She reviewed Katy’s pictures on all her social media channels. Finally, she found a selfie with Cole in which she wasn’t wearing any earrings. Mackenzie zoomed in on the picture and used her magnifying glass. Her breath hitched.
Katy’s ears were pierced.
But then why was she wearing clip-on earrings the other day?
Mackenzie’s heart sped up. She closed her eyes and began connecting the dots. At her first meeting with Katy Becker, she appeared so different and skittish from what Mackenzie had come to expect. She opened the wrong cupboard to take out the glasses. She claimed the walls were thick when Delilah Pine said they weren’t. She acted jumpy with Cole. Her statements and assertions were weak and unsure. She cancelled her appointment with her gynecologist. She didn’t recognize her sweater dress until Cole pointed it out. She wasn’t posting anything on social media. She wasn’t leaving her house. She wasn’t talking to her mother as frequently.
“Oh my God,” Mackenzie whispered to no one.
The woman they’d talked to wasn’t Katy Becker. She was Kim Harris. Kim had been abducted. The real Katy Becker had been lying dead in their morgue all this time.
Thirty-Two
December 1
Mackenzie had walked in sketchy neighborhoods and dark alleys alone. Her work had taken her into the homes of violent criminals—into the very belly of nightmares.
But what scared most people didn’t scare her much. There was only one spot in Lakemore that she had managed to avoid until now. And it wasn’t the woods behind Hidden Lake. It was her childhood home. For the first time in twenty years, she found herself there.
It was a spontaneous decision. She was on her way to work and on a whim decided to take a quick detour.
She rolled down the window of her car and studied her old house. It looked smaller than she remembered. The white color of the wooden planks had faded into a yellowish tinge. The porch steps that always creaked under her weight were cracked. But the porch railing was new and freshly painted. Mackenzie didn’t remember the balusters being straight and symmetrical. The entire front yard had been paved. There was no car parked close by and no smoke coming out of the flue.
Mackenzie let out a shuddering breath. Despite its rickety appearance, there was no place more menacing. It was a house that had eaten away at her innocence. It was where she used to console her abused mother, until she walked in one day to find a battered corpse in the kitchen. It was unfair how the bad always overshadowed the good. It stuck for longer. She raked her brain for one good memory.
She saw it. A vague image of a man wearing gardening gloves. A tiny Mackenzie with red pigtails running toward him. She must have been not even four years old. He turned around and hoisted her up in the air. She yelped and giggled. The blurry imagery dissipated into thin air.
Mackenzie’s heart soared. Tears welled her eyes. That house wasn’t all evil. It still had an echo of something good.
Mackenzie and Nick stared at Katy’s picture placed on Sully’s desk. It was a professional headshot—she wore a cream blouse and had her dark hair tied in a ponytail, stray locks falling down artfully. But she had laughed a little too much at the camera, as though she had let out a nervous chuckle. The picture came off as candid, capturing her sparkling personality. It was almost as if the woman didn’t have an unlikeable bone in her body. She helped the less fortunate, used her voice to raise important issues, and inspired fairness and compassion in communities. A dwindling town like Lakemore needed someone like her. And now she had left behind her parents and husband.
“Are we sure about this?” Sully arched an eyebrow.
“I swung by the Beckers’ on my way,” Mackenzie said. “Cole let me dig around their master bedroom. None of her earrings are clip-on other than the gold ones she wore when we visited her.”
“I called Becky to confirm. The body’s ears are pierced.” Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall.
“Becky was right when she said that the body belonged to Katy,” Sully brooded. “Did you tell anyone about this?”
Mackenzie shook her head.
“Good. Don’t.”
“Why not?” Nick asked.
“A woman who was institutionalized at the age of four for being violent returns and starts living in place of her twin, who was murdered. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“You think Kim murdered Katy? Then what about Bella?”
“Who the hell knows the kind of craziness Kim got involved in after she ran away. Especially given her history, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was part of it, but something went wrong.”
Mackenzie tapped a pen against her lip. “I wonder if Kim confronted Katy.”
“Maybe that’s what Maria stumbled into on that Wednesday. Katy wasn’t letting her inside the house. Was it so Maria didn’t see Kim?” Nick proposed.
Sully adjusted his belt buckle. “Riverview PD got nothing on Bella?”
“Nope,” Nick confirmed. “Justin’s on it. What about the pen?”
Mackenzie leaned her hip on the edge of his desk. “Anthony said that he’ll run tests on it, but it will be a while before he gets around to it because of the backlog. But the chemical structure of an ingredient used in lip injections was engraved on it.”
“What ingredient?”
“Hyaluronic acid. Steven Boyle published a lot of papers on its benefits in medical journals. It was the focus of his research.”
Sully sat back. “Interesting. It’s almost like a tribute to his work.”
“Looks like it. Can’t confirm a connection to the murders and the ad, though.”
“Is Robbie cooperating?”
“He’s still maintaining he knows nothing more. But given his history and mental instability, we can’t take him on his word alone.”
“Someone is picking up women, getting their faces altered, and then doing what with them?”
There was a knock on the door and an officer delivered Sully a box. He hopped off his seat and tore it open with childlike wonder. He dismissed them soon after.
Leaving the office, Nick clapped Mackenzie’s back. “Nice work on the earrings!”
She teemed with satisfaction. After a very long time, she had had her first good night’s sleep.
As they passed Finn’s cubicle, Mackenzie heard him talking gently to someone.
“Michelle, the handwriting is a match.”
The woman who had been yelling at him the other day sat on a chair next to him, clutching the beads of her long necklace. “She wouldn’t disappear like this!”
“I’m sorry, but she wrote this note. We have confirmation. And her roommate gave a statement that Alison was planning to change her lifestyle.”
“She wouldn’t leave Oliver.”
Finn hung his head low and rubbed the back of his neck. “Come with me. Let’s get you some coffee.”
The woman gritted her teeth and jerked her bag off Finn’s desk, spilling a file on the floor. Ignoring the mess she’d created, she paraded out of the office with Finn tailing her, shaking his head.
“What was that?” Nick asked.
“Denial,” Mackenzie answered with a heavy heart.
Clint came into their office with a sense of urgency. “Katy’s phone just turned on.”
Thirty-Three
Mackenzie’s strides were confident in the shallow woods not more than two miles from Crescent Lake. She paused behind a huge fir tree and peeked around it at a cabin made of wooden planks and a shingle roof. She checked her gun was loaded.
She turned off the safety, held the weapon ready and approached the unassuming cabin, acutely aware of her surroundings. Her boots digging into the deep snow, a soft breeze ruffling the few leaves left on the branches, the sound of a stream bubbling nearby. Nick stood behind another tree a few feet away from her. Making eye contact, they nodded at each other and moved forward.
Justin and another deputy approached the cabin from the other side. They didn’t know what they were walking into. But four armed police officers were a good bet.
Mackenzie’s stomach whirred with anticipation.
Her eyes made quick work of the cabin. There was no vehicle in sight. No fresh footprints in the snow, at least in front of the cabin. Curtains blocked all the windows. The patio furniture on the deck was covered with a tarp. Azalea bushes were planted below the deck rail—a fussy plant. Initial assessment concluded that the cabin appeared to be unoccupied. So how did Katy’s phone end up here?
Mackenzie noticed the front door was slightly ajar. She directed Nick’s attention to the door. He nodded. Then she heard a sound. They froze.
Something fell and clattered on the ground. Then there were footsteps.
A man emerged from behind the cabin, walking along the right side to the front, carrying logs under his arm. As soon as he saw them, he dropped the logs.
“Lakemore PD! Freeze!” Nick commanded in his deep voice. Mackenzie gestured to Justin and the deputy to circle around the property.
The man raised his hands in the air. “I didn’t do anything!”
“On your knees!” Mackenzie jogged closer.
The man was average build, with reddish-brown hair and beard. His eyebrows and nose were pierced. He dug his knees into the ground and stared up at them with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”
Mackenzie checked his pockets. They were empty. “He’s fine.”
They lowered their guns.
“Can someone please tell me what’s happening?” His face creased with worry.
“Stand up.” Nick put his gun back in its holster. “What’s your name?”
“Ben Harlan.”
“The property is undisturbed. No signs of anyone else,” Justin said.
“You live here?” Mackenzie asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Can we search the cabin?”
“Why?”
“We’re looking into a woman’s abduction. Her phone was located near here. This cabin is the only one in the area.”
“A phone? Why didn’t you just say that?”
“What do you mean?” Nick frowned.
“I found one earlier.” He hitched his thumb to the cabin. “Do you want it? Come on in.”
Mackenzie looked around the cabin. The faint smell of bacon strips tickled her nostrils. The furniture was old and dusty. Harlan’s suitcase was parked against the wall by the entrance. A squiggly staircase was the only way upstairs. On the other side was another door that led to the back yard. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the cabin. Except the heating hadn’t been turned up all the way.
Harlan walked to the coffee table. He picked up a phone from the empty fruit bowl there and handed it to them. “Is this the one?”
Nick pulled out his handkerchief and took the phone from him. It had a cracked screen and mud had got inside the cover with a map of Washington for a design. It matched the description of Katy Becker’s phone, which they now knew had been in Kim’s possession when the latter was abducted.
“Yup.” Nick gave it to Justin, who carefully placed it in an evidence bag. “It was damaged when you found it?”
“Yeah. I figured someone dropped it.” He scratched his ear. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not if you’re telling the truth,” Mackenzie said.
“I didn’t know some woman was missing.”
“When did you come here?”
“Two days ago.”
“Why?”
“I… my girlfriend broke up with me,” he admitted bashfully. “I needed time to clear my head. Thought I should get in touch with nature and everything.”
“Did you do anything with the phone?” Nick asked.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Go through it?”
“It’s locked.”
“Can you show us where you found it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
It was along the shore of a creek. The ice on the surface had fractured and melted. Ben pointed at some rocks. “It was here.”
Mackenzie knelt and assessed the rocks and the ground, searching for other clues. There was nothing. No blood. She stood up and looked at the thick trees threatening to swallow her. “Have you seen anyone else in these woods?”
“No. The cabins are so spaced apart. It’s quiet anyway, what with the weather.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“The woods always make strange sounds. But nothing out of the ordinary.”
“When exactly did you find the phone?”
“At around ten o’clock, on my way back to the cabin. I was just walking around and stopped to catch my breath and noticed it lodged between those two rocks.”
Mackenzie shot Justin a knowing look. He tipped his head in a salute and started taking Ben Harlan’s details.
“Kim was here at some point,” Nick said. “With Katy’s phone on her.”
“I’ll check if this guy has a criminal record.”
“I’ll get some officers to scope the area.”
“She could be anywhere.” Mackenzie couldn’t keep the dread out of her voice. She didn’t know what exactly they were looking for—Kim, or Kim’s body.
Thirty-Four
Riverview was what Lakemore would be if it were not for football. Both towns tucked next to Olympia were on the poorer side and rainy. But Riverview had nothing to unite the people. It reminded Mackenzie of a giant halfway house; a patch of land where delinquents crashed together and had no sense of community or attachment.
Nick killed the engine in yet another dingy neighborhood. Riverview was a string of bad neighborhoods and this one was where Justin had tracked Bella Fox’s address. Her real name was Isabella Fabio.
When Mackenzie climbed out of the car, her nostrils were assaulted with the smell of piss. Potholes led the way to a dilapidated-looking apartment building. Dumpsters filled to the brim sat outside, infusing the air with a foul smell. A group of cats scurried around them, digging for food.
“You promised me twenty dollars!” a woman screamed from the balcony above at a man walking out of the building.
He was buckling his belt and zipping up his pants when he turned around and shouted back at her. “That handy wasn’t worth it!”
“Screw you!” She picked up a flowerpot and aimed it at him. It crashed inches away from his head.
He seethed. “You’re crazy!”
The woman went back inside. The man almost bumped into Mackenzie and Nick. His teeth were blackened and chipped. Meth use.
“So this is where Bella lived?”
Unsurprisingly enough, the elevators weren’t working. It was a nine-floor climb. The stairs were covered in stains. They walked past doors with a lot of curses being thrown around behind them. Mackenzie only hoped that no child lived in this building.
“That’s the apartment,” Nick confirmed on his phone and knocked.
The same woman yelling from the balcony opened the door in a quick motion. Mascara was smeared around her eyes—an obvious sign she had been crying. Her strawberry-blonde hair was disheveled and pinned in a giant bun on the top of her head. There were holes in her ratty T-shirt. Her bare legs showed signs of drug u
se. Needle marks and dark veins.
“Who the hell are you?”
Mackenzie showed her badge, and the woman almost stumbled back. She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Can you give me a minute?”
“Sure,” she nodded.
The door closed, and sounds of footsteps pounding and things falling trickled through.
“Hiding drugs?” Nick asked.
“Yep.”
The door opened again. “Come in.”
The apartment was surprisingly airy and light. The balcony door was open, allowing a breeze to filter inside. The furniture was tattered, obviously picked up from yard sales or the street. Magazines and makeup products were spread on a table. There was a tiny kitchen in one corner without any utensils, only paper cups and takeout boxes. There was no personal touch to the apartment. No pictures. No paintings.
“Why are you here?” She curled up on an armchair and covered her body with a blanket.
“What’s your name?” Nick asked.
“Jasmine,” she said dryly.
“You live with Isabella Fabio, right?”
“Bella, you mean. I used to. She moved out in the summer. Without warning,” she added spitefully. “Took me over a month to find another roommate.”
“Were you in contact with her after she moved out?”
“Nope.”
“She’s dead,” Mackenzie said.
Jasmine’s face didn’t change. “Sucks.”
Mackenzie and Nick exchanged a look. Mackenzie was usually prepared for shock or remorse. It was instinct to jump into comforting mode: the soft tone, the reassuring words, the gentle eyes.
“You obviously weren’t close,” Nick commented.
She raised a brow. “We weren’t. And it’s common in our business for girls to turn up dead. Overdosed in a ditch.”
“She was murdered,” Mackenzie stressed, hoping Jasmine would understand the gravity of the situation.
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