Page 104 of Our Daughter's Bones

“Which side are we on? Where are the patrol officers searching?”

“They started from the south side making their way up. They follow a system. They’ll get to this area tomorrow.”

It was too green for her taste. The ground was covered in moss and fern. The birds chirped, slicing through the silence. She resisted the smell—the perfume of damp earth somewhere between sweet and sour. But the more she walked, the more her tenacity began to melt. She felt her walls tumble down.

Why didn’t she ever let herself enjoy the woods? Why did she fear Robert’s ghost would haunt her?

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You have childlike wonder on your face.”

Bill Grayson’s large cabin with a tapered roof came into view a few meters ahead. Nestled deep inside the forest, it was a wooden shoebox hidden behind trees. The gleaming maple wood and solid iron railing divulged its high worth. One side of the cabin consisted of a floor to ceiling window made of spotless glass.

“He won’t be here,” Nick said. “It’s football season. He’s busy.”

“We can’t go inside without a warrant, Nick.”

“I know. But I was thinking there’s nothing wrong in looking around, right? And if we see or hear something suspicious in response to ourvery loudknocks, then the plain view doctrine holds.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes. Shelly really trained you on how to deal with lawyers, didn’t she?”

“Tell me about it.”

It was an odd choice, spending all that money to build a luxury cabin at this location. It was private, with no other cabins in the vicinity, but there were also fewer trails, poorer access roads, and there was no direct access to the Fresco River. It wasn’t just secluded—it was isolated. They climbed the stairs to the wide, sprawling deck. Patio furniture sat with a barbecue grill. Mackenzie kicked the gray deck boards with her heels. They didn’t waver.

When they reached the red-painted door, Nick knocked loudly.

They waited for a response: a whimper or a strangled cry from the other side of the door. But the only sound was of the birds piping and the wind ruffling the leaves.

Nick knocked again and shouted. “Detective Nick Blackwood from Lakemore PD. Anyone in?”

They waited. Like a fool, Mackenzie clung to the slim chance of discovering Abby alive inside. Nick gestured for her to circle around the cabin. Was Abby’s phone even still here? Had it ever been? They needed to find something out of the ordinary—anything that would get them closer to getting a warrant to turn Grayson’s house upside down.

She scrutinized every inch of the deck’s surface, the stairs, the railings, and the soil under her feet. When she reached the glass wall, she cupped her hands around her eyes and glued them to the glass.

At the first round of inspection, the cabin looked neat. Everything was in place. The wall opposite was covered in framed pictures and jerseys. There was a sense of solitude in the decor. The colors were muted and warm. It was comfort, not luxury.

Mackenzie’s eyes swept repeatedly, searching foranything. Something caught her eye. The glare got in her way. She squinted and shifted a little to get a better view. The lamp on the side table at the far end of the couch was on the floor. Next to it, there was a pool of something dark.

Like a spilled drink.

Or blood.

“Nick!” Mackenzie yelled. “Come here!”

“What?” Nick looked through the glass. “Blood.”

Mackenzie operated on instinct. She raced to the door, knocked on it sharply and waited exactly three seconds before she slammed her shoulder into it. With each thump, the door wiggled against the hinges. After the fourth push, it swung open.

They barged inside, taking out their guns. She went to the blood on the floor. Squatting, she realized it was old and dried. There was a short drag mark in the direction of the main door. “You take the second floor.”

Nick disappeared up the stairs. Holding her gun in both hands, she inspected the living space and kitchen. There were no hiding places, but she searched for another clue. A bloody handprint? Abby’s phone?

Everything was squeaky clean. The only evidence of any disruption was the blood and the lamp. She could hear Nick’s footsteps from the floor above. After searching for over fifteen minutes, she put her gun back in the holster.

The adrenaline began to recede. She had followed protocol.