Page 29 of Our Daughter's Bones

She put the diary away. “These things are slow.”

He opened the file in his lap and pulled out a paper for Mackenzie’s review. “I obtained the prescription receipt from the pharmacy Abby purchased her medication from.”

Mackenzie remembered seeing the prescription pad on Coleman’s desk. She imagined how easily Abby could have snatched a paper from it when Coleman was turned around.

“As you can see here, the prescriber’s name is Dr. Ian Coleman, and his signature is at the bottom,” Justin continued.

“Did you get a handwriting analysis done?”

“I did.” He pulled out another report from the file and handed it to her. “I submitted the two signatures Abby allegedly forged and Mrs. Correia and Dr. Coleman’s original signatures. They do not match. The forged signatures have a steeper slant. The letters don’t tail off correctly. But most importantly, the writing stroke lacks fluency and is stilted. Indicative of a person slowing down when copying a signature.”

Mackenzie scratched her head. So they knew Abby had faked the checks and prescription, but they still didn’t know why, and if either fact was linked to her disappearance. Mackenzie hadn’t believed Hannah when she had said her daughter was different. All parents said that. But now she wondered if Hannah was right about Abby. “This is good work, Justin. Anything else?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. I went back through the books from her locker, and realized that a picture was taped into the back of one.” He gave her a picture in a sealed evidence bag.

Abby and Erica were standing together. Abby wore a sparkling blue dress. Erica was dressed in black. They were at a party. A vague outline of students could be seen behind them, holding red plastic cups. A beer pong table was set up next to Abby. But what caught Mackenzie’s attention was that the picture was torn. There was an arm wrapped around Erica’s waist. It was a boy’s arm, thick and hairy, but the rest of him had been torn off. The edge of the picture on Erica’s right was ragged. Mackenzie ran her fingers over it through the bag. The tear wasn’t slow and careful, as if Abby had simply wanted a picture of just the two of them, and removed the boy as gently as possible. It was sharp and forceful.

“You find the rest of this?”

Justin shook his head. “Looks like high school drama to me.”

“I guess. The checks still seem to be our most promising lead right now. We also have to wait for the surveillance video.”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Can you leave this file here? I think Nick might be interested in reviewing that picture.”

Justin nodded and left her alone.

She inspected the picture again. What an odd thing to do—taping a torn picture into the back of a book. Had the full shot originally been in there? Why did Abby do this? Who was the person with his hand around Erica? Mackenzie found a magnifying glass and held it over the torn end of the picture. The muscular arm had no distinguishing features she could make out. Was this a boyfriend? What would that have to do with Abby going missing?

She sighed and put the picture away. Erica’s murder and Abby’s disappearance were still being treated as two distinct cases. However, their wires were tangled in a giant mess. Mackenzie didn’t know which trail to follow, especially when the information wasn’t being properly exchanged.

Her phone rang. “Detective Price.”

“Mack, this is Anthony.”

“Hey, Anthony. Did you get the results back?”

“Yes, I did. I also double checked, because I wasn’t happy with what I saw.”

“What is it now?” Mackenzie groaned.

“The physical examination went fine, but the colorimetric test was off. I performed the confirmatory test last night and got the results back from the mass spec this morning. The pills inside the bottle are not antidepressants. They’re a placebo.”

“What?” Mackenzie dropped her pen.

“They’re filled with starch. Fake.”

“Why would she be on placebo pills? We have a receipt for her buying the correct medication from the pharmacy.”

“It’s possible that someone switched her pills. She wouldn’t have noticed the difference.”

“Yeah.” Mackenzie gnawed the inside of her cheek. “Thanks, Anthony. I’ll call you later.”

She hung up and squeezed the phone in frustration.

She stared at a spot on the floor. There was a slight crack in it. Suddenly, she saw her father’s blood seep into the crevice and flow toward her. Her heart thumped wildly against her ribs. Her muscles cramped and tightened. She pushed her chair away from the spot, and the scene dissolved.