Page 32 of The Lost Bones

She thought about it. “More like the latter. Just based on the colorful language.”

She heard a grating laugh and turned her head to find Andrew chatting to Peterson by the water cooler outside the office.

“What do you think of him?” she asked Nick.

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Isn’t it weird that he was trying hard to come to Lakemore?” She leaned forward. “Who does that?”

“People who realize Lakemore has more to offer than football. Like a template for everything that can go wrong in a town so that they can learn from us.”

Mackenzie shot him a flat look, but he just grinned. Despite her spending many years away from Lakemore, she had a fierce loyalty toward it. In some ways more than people who had never left it.

“Detective Price.” Peterson approached them holding a photo. “This is one of the items retrieved from Debbie’s office.”

Mackenzie and Nick peered at the image of an orange wristband with little black Vs printed on it.

“We haven’t been able to trace where it came from,” Peterson said, hooking his thumbs in his belt. “Uniform asked her co-workers, and they have no idea what it is.”

“It looks like one of those bands they hand out at nightclubs or concerts,” Nick said. “Did you ask Noor?”

“Not yet. I will.” Peterson’s shoulders tensed like he’d been caught out. “In fact, I could go now and—”

“You’re doing fine. Were you able to get a list of the people the jacket has been sold to?” Mackenzie asked.

His face reddened. “The store shut down a year ago. It’s an old website with no address. I’ve asked Clint to track down the domain address.”

“Detective Price.” Andrew joined them, his hair ruffled. “I was hoping I could borrow you for an hour.”

“An hour?”

“It’s Jane Doe,” he said softly.

Mackenzie’s chest pinched, remembering the meek woman who had fallen into her arms. “Of course. I just have to use the washroom. I’ll be back.”

“Wood frogs can hold their pee for up to eight months,” Peterson said. All heads slowly turned to look at him, bewildered. “Sorry,” he mumbled and hurried away.

Jane Doe had been housed in a motel, with a squad car always parked outside. It was an unusual situation. Doctors had declared that she was definitely an adult, even though she looked and behaved like a child. But she didn’t exist anywhere. There was no record of her. No one had reported her missing. Even NamUs, the national database for missing persons, yielded nothing. Mackenzie chewed on her fingernails, wondering how a woman was found injured in the woods, too traumatized to converse, and nobody cared. Jane Doe was just a blip in this world. A speck. Someone inconsequential and invisible.

“Sorry about the mess.” Andrew jutted his thumb to the back seat. The car went over a pothole and Mackenzie almost bumped her head against the roof. “Sorry again.”

“It’s fine.” She looked behind her at the food wrappers littering the seat. “He likes Twizzlers.”

“Yes, yes, he does.” Andrew smiled, dimples denting his cheeks. “His mom used to eat them when she was pregnant.”

“Is she in Lakemore too?”

“No.” Sadness crossed his face. “She died.”

“I’m really sorry.” She looked out the window at the blurry green of trees passing by.

“Yeah, sometimes I feel it would be nice for Robbie to have a mother,” he continued, and Mackenzie shifted uneasily at how personal the conversation was getting. “I have a sister. She is very kind to Robbie. But it’s different.”

“Yeah, must be hard.”

“You didn’t get to spend that much time with your mother, am I right?” Andrew asked, narrowing his eyes. “You were thirteen when you left for New York?”

“How did you know?” The question came out sharply.