We find McKenzie seated on the bed with her back to the door. Mary smiles sadly at me as we enter, then pats McKenzie’s hand.
“Cal and his partner Abby are here,” she says. “They’re going to take your statement now.”
McKenzie doesn’t move right away. When she does, it’s slow and pained, like every breath hurts. She rests upright against the pillow, with her elbows in her hands.
“We’d like you to tell us your story,” Abby says.
McKenzie meets my gaze. She looks deflated.
“I already told you everything,” she says.
“I know you did,” I tell her. “But we’ve gotta go through it again, just to make it official.”
“It’s possible you’ll remember something you forgot the first time,” Abby says.
“I didn’t forget anything,” McKenzie says gravely.
Abby nods. “Of course not. Regardless, we still have to go through it again.”
I don’t enjoy having to ask McKenzie to relive her story, but this is far from the last time she’ll have to retell it. When we catch this guy, and the case goes to trial, she may choose to testify. And I’ve seen scores of victims berate themselves over and over for things they might have done differently—what if they’d jumped out of the car at that stop sign, or hit him harder the first time—when it’s always enough to have survived.
Never mind all the hours of therapy she’ll need. The unavoidable triggers. Black SUVs. Rope. Champagne. God forbid a friend ever invites her to a barn wedding.
She’ll be reliving the last four days for the rest of her life.
“Where’s your necklace now?” Abby asks, once McKenzie’s finished her retelling.
“I don’t know,” McKenzie says, her eyes two empty rowhouses. “I must’ve dropped it.”
There’s a knock on the exam-room door. Lieutenant Harris pulls Abby and me out into the hall.
“Where’s Holly?” I ask him.
“Down in the lobby with your guy,” he says. “Evidence is packed up and ready for the lab. I had a deputy run a quick search for northern properties owned by the Davis’ and their closest associates. Turns out there’s an eighty-acre parcel in Rogersville. Used to be a farm.”
“What?” I say in disbelief. Abby and I went over those records with a fine-toothed comb. “How the hell’d we miss that?”
“Fuck if I know.” She rubs her forehead. “Do we have enough for a warrant?”
“With Ms. Sommers’ testimony, I think we have a fair shot.” He looks to me. “As soon as the doctor says she’s good to go, I want you to take the girls somewhere safe. Both of you, keep your phones on. I’ll be calling as soon as the warrant goes through. Hopefully by this afternoon.”
The horizon’s beginning to glow with the light of morning when they finally discharge McKenzie from the hospital with a prescription for painkillers. We get the script filled at the hospital’s pharmacy, before the five of us head back to the trucks, parked side by side in the garage.
“Kenzie’s exhausted,” Holly says to me. My little girl can barely keep her own eyes open. “Are we going back to Jonah’s now?”
“We’re staying somewhere else,” I say. Austin’s country house sits on a twenty-acre plot on the banks of the French Broad River. He’s got four spare bedrooms, though three are in varying stages of renovation. Parts of the house are still rough around the edges, but with that much land on all sides, we’ll be able to spot any threats coming our way long before they reach the porch.
“Where are we going?” Holly asks.
I cradle her gorgeous, tired face. She’s no longer holding the teddy bear she came in with, having given it to McKenzie to cuddle. I can tell she needs comfort, and I make a silent promise to carve out as much time for us as I can before I have to leave her again.
“I’ll tell you on the way,” I say.
She nods, too sleepy to insist on an answer. “Wait,” she says. “I left my clothes and stuff at Jonah’s.”
“I’ll run back for your bags,” Austin says. “I need to drop Mike and Mary off anyway.” His gaze darts toward McKenzie. “You need me to pick anything up for you?”
McKenzie shakes her head.
“Both of us could really use a shower,” Holly says. “So, maybe soap?”
Austin smiles. “I’m pretty sure they have plenty of that where you’re headed.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Holly
I don’t realize that Cal is following the gray sedan until it pulls into the police station’s parking lot. Rather than turn, we slow to a crawl. It’s early enough that there isn’t anyone behind us to piss off.
The driver steps out of the sedan, and I catch a quick glimpse of Lieutenant Harris pulling a plastic container out of his trunk just before Cal drives off.
“Why were you following him?” I ask quietly.
“Wanted to make sure the evidence didn’t take any detours.”
I glance into the backseat at Kenzie staring out the window. I’m sure she can hear us, but wherever she is in her head, she’s not listening.