Page 31 of The Lost Bones

“N-no.” He frowned hesitantly.

“Then quit complaining.”

“Here it is.” Boothby unlocked the door, pushing it open.

The room was just as she remembered. A chalkboard. Tables with tiny chairs painted in different colors. A supply shelf with glue, glitter, yarn, paintbrushes, craft paint and markers. Another shelf showcasing the creations of students.

“It would have been April 10,” Nick said. “How do you think someone would gain access to this place?”

“All doors are locked,” Boothby insisted. “And none of them were broken down. The windows can be opened, though.”

There was a window across the room. Nick crossed to it and tried opening it.

“Looks like you found your special tribe,” Boothby said to Mackenzie in a low voice.

“Sorry?”

He looked at Nick pointedly.

Nick pushed open the window. Wind whooshed in, disturbing sheets of paper lying around. He closed it again. “That was easy. Figure that’s how they could have gotten in. What about CCTV?” he asked Boothby. “We’ll need the tapes. The principal gave us the go-ahead.”

Boothby nodded. “We store everything.”

While Nick and Boothby discussed the security tapes from the premises, Mackenzie looked around the room. It was here that Courtney had bullied her most of all. It had put her off crafts. Even after all these years, seeing this room did something strange to her. She took out a small bottle from her pocket and shook it.

“Do you mind?” she asked. “It will detect blood.”

“Sure. But don’t you use UV light?” Boothby asked.

“Blood doesn’t fluoresce in UV light. That’s a TV trope.”

She sprayed the floor to see if there was any cleaned-up blood. Close to the supply shelf, a blue stain appeared. She paused, her skin tingling in anticipation. The stain grew larger and larger.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Nick said. “No one could survive that.”

“This is where she was killed.”

NINETEEN

“This is sick.” Nick shook his head, his eyes spelling fury. “Murdering someone in aschool.”

“As opposed to murdering someone… in the woods?” Mackenzie suggested.

They were back at the station late in the evening, while the CSU went over the crime scene with a fine-toothed comb. They hoped they’d be done collecting samples by tomorrow morning, but it seemed like the room would be sealed off for a few days at least.

“No. Kids go there,” Nick said with a cup of coffee in his hands. “Imagine Luna folding paper in there with all that blood around her.”

“Luna would probably find it fascinating.” Mackenzie tried to lighten the mood. It made him crack a smile. “Any news of Debbie?”

“None.” He sighed. “Jenna went through all the security tape surrounding the news station but didn’t catch anything. Patrol and sheriff’s office are still on the lookout.”

“Are the posters out?”

Nick hesitated and took a sip of his coffee. “There was a bit of a delay. All hell will break loose tomorrow.”

Mackenzie was looking over the evidence photographed at Debbie’s office. “Why?”

“Because it’s Debbie Arnold, Mack,” he said, like it was obvious. “She’s our very own Anderson Cooper or Tucker Carlson.”