Page 1 of Our Daughter's Bones

Prologue

Lakemore, WA, 1998

Her tiny feet slapped the pebbled road. Her pigtails swayed wildly. Her rasping throat felt parched, and her lungs burned. The back of her neck was coated with a sheet of sweat. If she focused hard enough, she could feel a drop trickling down her back.

She ran like a bullet leaving a barrel, like a lioness chasing her meal. A simmering ache burst in her thigh.

The modest two-story house came into view. Mackenzie Price came to a grinding halt.

Nestled in a corner plot, Mackenzie’s home was not spectacular. It was ugly and pitiful. It was all they could afford in the strange town of Lakemore.

She stood, catching her breath. She looked at her flip-flops, dangling from her fingers caked in mud. Her mother would be mad. But she could handle her.

It was her father that made her hesitate and say a silent prayer before she entered the house.

The lights were out. Were they not home? They never went out. Were they asleep? It was too early.

Unless Dad had too much to drink again, and Mom cried herself to sleep.

The little garden outside their home was a reflection of how their life was inside. Messy and dry. The front yard was inconveniently small, with patches of overgrown grass in an otherwise barren, brown land. The potted plants had long wilted. Only a small tree had survived in the disaster: a Douglas fir. It was the only thing cared for.

Mackenzie’s first memory was watching her father bending down in the garden. She was behind him, but saw his cheeks lifting, like he was smiling. The light breeze ruffled his brown hair. His strong hands planted seeds in the soil.

Now, those hands beat her mother. The thick cloud of brown hair had fallen off. That smile had collapsed into a constant sneer.

She reached the porch and stood in front of the door. Her heart raced faster than it did when she ran.

She considered going back to Fiona’s house and spending the night there. Two hours ago, she had been giggling because Fiona had kissed a boy. She had also been blushing because her crush, Dylan, was going to ask her out on the next field trip.

But now she was trembling. Sighing, she opened the door.

It creaked loudly.

The dark and silent house felt eerie and uninviting. The air was stuffy with the smell of alcohol.

“Mom?”

No answer.

She was expecting her mother’s shrieks from behind the closed door of the master bedroom, like every other night. But all she heard was the echo of her own heart.

“Is anyone home?”

The living room on her right was empty and clean. Stairs were leading up in front of her. She clutched the railing with her damp palm.

A sound came.

Shrill and abrupt.

She jumped.

It came from the kitchen, behind the living room. She noticed light seeping under the closed door. Someone was home.

“Mom? Are you here?”

It must be her mother. Why wasn’t she replying?

Mackenzie placed her muddy flip-flops by the door and made her way to the kitchen. Something made the hair on her arms stand up. Something made her scalp prickle.