Little Boy Lost

by Ruhi Choudhary

Genres: Crime Fiction

Synopsis

The clear sky burst into flames of peach and gold, illuminating the small body leaning against the rocks. He looked even smaller than he had in the photos, purple marks blemishing his neck. His eyes were open, staring ahead at the vastness of the still water. When three nine-year-old boys go missing on a field trip to Lakemore’s annual spring festival, panic tears through the small town. Detective Mackenzie Price and her partner Nick Blackwood lead the search, but no trace of the boys is found—until one of them is found murdered, a note stuffed down his throat. “Find Johnny’s killer, or they all die.” Johnny was supposedly a victim of Jeremiah, a serial killer Nick helped put behind bars nearly a decade ago for the murder of ten young boys. But when Mack and Nick pay him a visit, he claims that he knows nothing—and that he remains innocent of Johnny’s murder. Then a second boy is found, another clue left on his body, leaving just one left alive. Desperate to save the last boy’s life, Mackenzie and Nick comb over Jeremiah’s case, only to discover proof of a shocking cover-up—and a killer who will stop at nothing to right the wrongs of the past. Packed full of shocking twists and nail-biting suspense, Little Boy Lost is a truly unputdownable crime thriller, perfect for fans of Karin Slaughter, Lisa Regan and Angela Marsons. What readers are saying about Little Boy Lost : “ I couldn't turn the pages fast enough, loaded with suspense, fast paced, full of mystery and nail biting action… will keep you deeply engrossed all the way through. Loved it… 5 big stars from me. ” NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“ OMG never a dull moment with this book, I can tell you that! I enjoyed every bit of it.” B for Book Review, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“ Gosh… what a roller coast ride… will hook you into the story from the beginning to the end. ” Tropical Girl Reads Books, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“An edge of your seat read… There are twists and turns aplenty, false leads and so many characters who have a motive… The ending for both cases came as a complete surprise. Another thrilling five star read from Ruhi Choudhary.” Jo Lambert Books, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“ Simply brilliant!... I absolutely love this series. It's brilliantly plotted, with many twist and turns you can't anticipate.” The World is Ours to Read, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: May 6, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The only thing Mackenzie could hear in the cacophony of sounds was the thumping of her heart.

Rain splattered against the glass. Thunder grumbled. Wiper blades squeaked, sweeping the windshield. Tires crunched the gravel underneath.

A fork of lightning sliced open the sky, briefly illuminating the path ahead. The dark, winding road, on a moonless, rainy night. Tall, thick trees lined both sides of the empty road. Not a car in sight, not a person.

Mackenzie looked to her side. Nick’s grip on the steering wheel was unforgiving. His knee bobbed in place. She remembered his words to her merely a few minutes ago.

Your father was murdered.

She looked away and closed her eyes. Her stomach swooped in fear. A little whisper hissed at her to tell him the truth about everything. He was her only friend, her partner at work, the only person left in her life who she trusted.

But every time she blinked, her father’s face would cloud her mind. His receding hairline, beady eyes, and wrinkled face. She swallowed her tears. She would not cry for a man who spent years beating her mother in his drunken stupor. She would not cry for a man who waltzed into her life years later and lied to her face about what had transpired that night twenty years ago.

“Mack?” Nick’s voice punctured the fragile silence. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“No. I have to see for myself.”

She turned to look out the window and caught her reflection. She’d always looked like her mother, but right now their resemblance was uncanny. It was as if Melody’s face was staring back at her, and she was transported back twenty years.

A mangled body on the floor. Blood seeping around the head. A large dent in the skull. Eye swollen to the size of a golf ball. A frying pan with dried blood. A horrified Melody covered in bruises.

I’m so sorry, Mackenzie.

She had snapped. It was self-defense.

You have to help me bury him.

And so they did.

For twenty years, Mackenzie had believed that she had buried her father that night. Until a month ago, when he had shown up at her doorstep very much alive.

The car came to a halt. Mackenzie moved on autopilot. She didn’t even register the rain beating down on her as she walked up the dirt road toward the motel. Rivulets of rain chased down her face. Miller Lodge was directly ahead of her, where her father had been staying. The medical examiner’s van was parked out the front, along with a squad car.

She entered the building, with Nick tailing her. Mackenzie didn’t quite register her surroundings. She knew there were people around her—motel guests and workers, disturbed and curious. She knew some uniformed officers were with them taking statements.

Nick placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her upstairs.

She stumbled and swayed, but managed to climb the stairs. The hallway was bathed in yellow, flickering light. The door to a room was open—a small crowd gathered around it.

Someone walked toward her. The shape was blurry, but as he got closer, his outline gained clarity.

It was Sergeant Jeff Sully.

“What the hell are you doing here, Mack?”

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the end of the hallway—the room where someone had murdered her father, where she imagined his body lay.

“C’mon, Sully. Just let her have a look,” Nick said.

Sully’s unibrow dipped low, but he grunted his approval. “Just for a minute. Don’t touch anything.”

Mackenzie faintly nodded and followed him. She felt eyes on her. Her coworkers watching her warily, like she was a vase about to crack any time. All other sounds fell away—the gurgling thunderstorm, hushed whispers, footsteps, and clicking cameras. All she heard was her breathing.

The room was small—it was the only thing her brain registered.

Her father was slumped against the foot of the bed, his body tilted at an angle, hands splayed carelessly. There was a red and black wound on his forehead and ropes of blood ran down his neck to the collar of his shirt. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted.

Someone had shot him in the head.

Bile rose in Mackenzie’s throat. Clutching her mouth, she sprinted out of the room, into the hallway, shouldering past the throng of people.

“Mack!” Nick was right behind her.

She heaved and calmed her erratic pulse. She had seen many, many dead bodies over the course of her eight years with the Lakemore PD. But those hadn’t been her father.

“Go home.” Nick held her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I’ll ask Peterson to drive you. We’ll find out what happened to your father. I promise.”

Mackenzie found herself nodding—the truth sat on the tip of her tongue.

“I…” She wanted to confess everything to him.

But she couldn’t bring herself to, not when she felt like she was going to explode and her nerve endings were frayed.

“I’m sorry.” Nick crushed her into a hug. “I’ll come over when I’m done here.”

He released her and called over Officer Peterson to drop her home.

As Mackenzie walked away, her eyes darted to the authorities around her, as if they would turn against her anytime or someone would jump at her from the shadows.

Charles has been murdered. And she knew in her bones that it was something to do with Melody and that night. The truth was going to come out soon, potentially bringing her down in the process.

A thought made her insides clench in terror as she recalled Charles’s dead body.

Was she going to be next?

Lakemore, WA

“Lakemore PD is asking for assistance in finding three young boys who went missing on a field trip.” Debbie, Lakemore’s most watched reporter, spoke earnestly, absent of her usual judgmental manner. “Lucas Williams, Theo Reynolds, and Noah Kinsey are nine years old and disappeared during a field trip to the annual spring festival. If anyone has any information on the whereabouts of these boys, please contact the special hotline Lakemore PD has set up.”

Mackenzie stood, her feet wide apart, and held the dumbbell in front of her chest. Sitting into a deep squat, she stood back up and repeated the motion again. Her skin was matted with sweat, pools of it cooling her scalp. Her quads burned just the right amount. She felt like her body was unwinding slowly after being stiff for a long time. She wasn’t the one to slack off on working out—or anything really. That’s why her coworkers called her “Mad Mack”: she was madly and obsessively dedicated to her work and responsibilities. At least, normally she was. It had been over two months since Charles was found murdered in a motel room. The following weeks had taken a toll on her, and she had been too mentally exhausted to push herself as much as usual.

The morning light burst through the thin film of clouds into the spacious living room overlooking the front yard. It was a tasteful house—an open concept kitchen, sweeping staircase, box-beam ceilings and solid hardwood flooring. It was a house she had decorated with all her heart to spend her life in with her husband, Sterling Brooks. But after ending her marriage with him three months ago, following his infidelity, she was left alone in the big house, still carrying the echoes of the past.

Living alone had been harder than she’d imagined. It wasn’t new to her—her childhood had been hauntingly lonely—but she had grown used to living with her husband, having company and sharing chores. Now she was returning to her old life, and it felt odd. Like picking at an old wound that was only half-healed.

The bell rang. She jolted.

Mackenzie checked the clock. She wasn’t expecting any visitors early in the morning. Wiping her face with a towel to look presentable, she opened the door. A middle-aged woman with light brown hair and bronze-kissed skin stood in jeans and a sweater, holding a tote bag. She was shorter than Mackenzie, stout and sturdy with thick wrists.

“Hello, I’m Irene Nemr.”

“Hi…” Mackenzie tried placing her to no avail.

“Sorry to bother you!” She chuckled. “I just moved in next door and thought I should pop in and introduce myself.”

“Oh, right. Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Mackenzie Price.” She shook her hand. “Would you like to come in?”

“If you don’t mind!” She came inside, looking around the living room and foyer. “Nice chandelier. You have good taste.”

“Thank you. Can I get you something?”

“No, thank you. I’ll keep this short. I have other neighbors I want to say hello to.”

Mackenzie smiled. When she and Sterling had moved in, they hadn’t gone out of their way to mingle with the neighbors; her job’s unpredictable hours didn’t allow her to commit to a lot of social gatherings. But Irene looked like someone who intended to bring some unity to the neighborhood. “Where are you from?”

“Philadelphia. I just moved here a month ago.”

“What brings you to Lakemore?”

“The company I work for has headquarters in Olympia. But the real estate is expensive there, so I thought why not spend less money and buy a bigger place here.”

“Smart decision. Lakemore is a nice town.”

This wasn’t entirely true. Lakemore was a town plagued by poverty, known for bad weather and an even worse crime rate, but Mackenzie didn’t want to put Irene off.

Irene glanced at the television behind Mackenzie with a skeptical look. The news of the missing boys was playing on loud volume. “Mrs. McNeill told me you and your husband have been living here for over three years now.”

She swallowed down a lump in her throat. “My ex-husband. I live alone now.”

“I’m also divorced.”

Mackenzie squirmed. The paperwork was filed, even though the judge was yet to grant them one. But nevertheless she was a divorced woman now. “I’m afraid I have to get to work. I’m with the police. As you can tell, it’s a busy time for us.”

Irene raised her hands. “Of course, of course. Mrs. McNeill told me you’re a detective. Very impressive. We can chat later.”

Once Mackenzie ushered her out of the house, she got ready. Her eyes were glued to the television screen showing pictures of Lucas, Theo and Noah, three boys who seemingly disappeared without a trace twenty-four hours ago.

Mackenzie was twelve years old when her mother had sent her to New York to live with her grandmother. But eight years ago, Lakemore had called her back. She returned, joining the Detectives Unit in Lakemore PD, handling homicide, missing persons, felony assaults and cold cases; they were plenty in the small Washington town. While the rest of the world was getting with the times and opening itself to possibilities, Lakemore was staunchly planted in the past.

Even the residents of Lakemore now joked about how they were stuck here. But Mackenzie felt a loyalty to the dwindling town. Under the film of destitution, she saw potential. She wasn’t alone. Slowly some people were rebuilding Lakemore—and Mackenzie was one of them; locking away one criminal at a time.

“Anything new?” she asked her partner, Nick Blackwood, as she entered the office. Nick was tall, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jawline. His black hair was cropped short with some speckles of gray.

He raised a finger, gesturing her to wait, picking up the phone. “Yeah. Okay. Sure. Thanks for cooperating.” He put back the handset. “There are over a hundred volunteers combing through the woods.”

Mackenzie still had Lakemore’s map open on her desk. There was a barren strip of land near the edge of the woods around Fresco River. There had been a petition to build a casino there but it was denied. Now that land was used for the annual spring festival when food trucks and vendors set up shop there, marking the start of spring in Lakemore.

The three boys had wandered off during the festival. The teacher had realized when she was rounding up the kids and doing a head count.

“It’s easy to get lost in those woods. No hiking trails or cabins or any signs,” Mackenzie said, looking at the mark where the three boys were last seen and the edge of the acres of unregulated, dense woods.

“There are animals in there. No bears, but coyotes and cougars.” Nick came up behind her.

“Let’s try to stay positive.” She shuddered.

Nick nodded. “Hopefully one of them dropped something. Would make it easier to track them.”

Detectives Finn and Ned of the Detectives Unit were still gathering statements from the people present at the festival. There were over a hundred people, including the twenty kids belonging to the fourth-grade class.

“Do you think they ran away?” Mackenzie proposed. “Things were rough at home? Gangs are known to recruit children as young as seven years old to sell drugs on the streets.”

“I don’t think so. They’re all middle-class kids with stable home lives. Not the type who get involved in that kind of mess.” Nick looked past her.

Mackenzie followed his gaze. Lucas Williams’s parents were in the lounge hysterically talking to Detective Troy Clayton.

Handling missing children cases was without a doubt the hardest part of their job.

“Where are Theo’s parents?” she asked.

“Out with the volunteers scouring the woods.”

“And no security cameras in place?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing there.”

The three innocent faces flashing on every screen in Lakemore had captured the attention of the residents. Mackenzie’s chest tightened as she stared at their faces—so young and innocent, their grins wide with missing teeth. They were lost in an unfriendly terrain without food and water, surrounded by wild animals cloaked by foliage and trees.

Mackenzie saw a man coming out of Lieutenant Atlee Rivera’s office. He was young, tall and muscular, with golden hair in curls around his head. He fiddled with his tie as Rivera talked to him.

“That’s the new guy, right?” Mackenzie asked Nick. “Austin?”

“Austin Kennedy from Port Angeles.”

“I saw him yesterday but didn’t get a chance to talk to him really.”

He crossed his arms, a tick in his jaw. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“He’s taking over your dad’s case.”

“Over ten officers have taken our statements!” Lucas’s father gritted his teeth.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams. But the more you repeat yourself, the more likely it is you might remember a detail you forgot, which might be relevant,” Mackenzie explained gently to the parents huddled across from her.

Lucas Williams’s parents were older than most in Lakemore. His father was bald with bushy gray eyebrows. His mother had curly hair to her shoulders, dusted with gray strands. She clutched her husband’s sleeve in a fist, and her lips moved constantly in a silent prayer, as her husband did all the talking.

“Like we said before. Lucas wasn’t acting strange at all. He’s a happy kid.”

“Nothing out of the blue happened in the last few days? Anyone following him or trouble at school?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No.”

Mackenzie tapped her pen to her notepad. Children often kept things from their parents, often dragged into illegal activities. But Nick had a point. The more she spoke with the parents, the more she realized that they didn’t just seem the type.

“Was Lucas good friends with Theo and Noah?”

“They were in the same class, so they were friends.”

“They never came over, or Lucas never went over to theirs?”

“They only hang out at school. We’ve never even had a real conversation with the parents until now…” His eyes drifted to the man sitting in the other corner of the lounge. Mackenzie followed his gaze to Noah’s father, a single parent—his worn-out eyes lined with black circles as he stared into empty space.

While the station was plunged into chaos with moving bodies, trilling phones and frantic conversations, underneath it was a thick layer of gloom. The profound and quiet sadness of the parents as the worst scenarios ran through their minds.

“We conceived after great difficulty, Detective Price.” Mrs. Williams spoke for the first time. Her eyes were filled with tears, her blinks slow and heavy, like she was close to passing out. “I underwent years of hormone treatment. I was forty when we were blessed with our little angel. He’s a sweet boy. Shy. Artistic. Gentle. If anything happens to him…”

Mr. Williams held her hand. “Don’t go there. We can’t think like that.”

“Finding them is our priority,” Mackenzie assured.

“Can we go now? We’d like to help the volunteers and look for Lucas ourselves,” Mr. Williams asked sharply. “You have no idea how painful it is to sit here and not do anything.”

“Of course. We’ll stay in touch.”

Mackenzie rubbed her forehead and watched Nick as he concluded his interview with Noah’s father. His shoulders and neck were stiff, a pulse in his neck throbbed visibly. Nick was a parent too. He understood their fear and helplessness far more than she did.

“Are you okay?” she asked him after he returned from seeing off Mr. Kinsey and Mr. and Mrs. Williams.

“Rest assured Luna’s not going on any field trips,” he muttered, taking out a cigarette pack and fiddling with it. He had been a smoker for years before Mackenzie wrenched the habit out of him. But whenever he was stressed or thoughtful, he’d play with a cigarette.

“So from what I gather, the boys were friendly but not the best of friends. Seems like they didn’t have much in common besides from being in the same class. It sounds like they got lost,” Mackenzie said.

“It was a chaotic festival. And boys that age can be hyperactive, running around. Justin is talking to their classmates,” he informed her. Justin Armstrong was the junior detective on their team. He often assisted them in cases, bringing his razor-sharp focus and discipline to the table. “Maybe the kids saw something.”

“Detective Price?” Austin approached them, carrying a file. “I never got a chance to introduce myself to you. I’m Austin Kennedy. I know it’s crazy today, but can I get a few minutes with you?”

“Regarding?”

He held up the file and waved it, like she’d recognize it. “Your father.”

Her face fell. When the case had been declared closed a few weeks ago due to no new lines of inquiry, she had been relieved. Her fear that it was connected to the past, and that she was next, had ebbed. Not that she didn’t want to know who killed Charles, but the desire to keep her past a secret was far greater. But now a new detective, potentially hungry to prove himself, could scrape out something new—or old.

“Sure.” She kept her expression impassive and followed him into one of the small interrogation rooms.

The room had blue walls with an exhaust fan and a crooked table with plastic chairs around it. Mackenzie had interrogated several suspects in this fusty space. For the first time, she knew what it was like to be on the other side.

Austin opened the file in front of him. Mackenzie tried to sneak a peek. He cleverly pulled the file closer to his chest, obscuring her view.

“I thought it was a robbery gone wrong,” Mackenzie started, trying to fish for information. “At least that’s what Ned said.”

“It was a fair assessment to begin with, given a string of robberies in Riverview, only a few miles away.”

“But you found something new? That’s why you’re interested in this case?” Mackenzie knew her attempts were transparent at best. She interlinked her fingers on the table and leaned forward. Austin flipped the pages but kept a curious eye on her.

Taking a shivering breath, she leaned back. Even if her face was blank, her body was giving away her jumpiness. The interrogation room she had often used to her advantage worked against her now. The claustrophobic space, flickering lights, and subdued voices from outside all made her feel trapped.

“I just thought we could go over the key details.”

“Is that why you brought me to this interrogation room?”

“The conference room is occupied. This was the only place where we could get some privacy.” A smile played on his lips. “Is there a particular reason why you feel so uncomfortable here?”

An icy rush slithered up her spine. “Well, you are looking into my father’s murder. So excuse me for being a little uncomfortable.”

“Hmm.” He frowned. “Let’s start from the beginning. Your father’s name is Charles Laurent. But you only found that out a few months ago?”

“Yes. Days before he was killed. Up until then, I always thought his name was Robert Price.”

“And Robert Price was the name of the man your mother, Melody, was married to?”

“Yes.”

“According to your previous statement, you were born to Melody and Robert Price—whose name is on your birth certificate. But Melody had been having an extra-marital affair with Charles, who also happens to be your biological father. She left her husband, Robert, and came to Lakemore to live with you and Charles. Except she told you and everyone in town that Charles was Robert Price.”

Mackenzie felt her face warm. Her mother and Charles had woven a complex web of lies and manipulation that was slowly being unraveled, not just for her but also for her coworkers. She didn’t miss how some of the cops whispered behind her back or watched her curiously. All of a sudden, Mackenzie was a reality show. “That is correct.”

There was no point in denying or hiding it. Senator Alan Blackwood, Nick’s father and an old family friend of the Prices, had recognized that Charles was not, in fact, Robert Price when he’d met him at the Lakemore PD Christmas party last year. He had been the one to inform Mackenzie of Charles’s identity. If she hadn’t come clean to the police, then they would have found out from Alan that she knew. Withholding critical information about a murder victim would have made her look guilty.

And she was guilty—not of killing Charles, but of burying Robert Price.

“How old were you when Melody brought you to Lakemore?”

“Four years old.”

“Do you have any memory of Robert Price—the real Robert Price?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. I have some very faint memories. They were never clear—and I thought they were of Charles. But when I found out about his lies, I realized they were of Robert. Though I don’t know what he looks like.”

“Did you ever meet Robert Price or have any contact with him?”

“No.” Her tone was clipped. “My mother didn’t even keep a picture of him.”

“So, the last time you saw him you were four years old?”

“Yes.” Mackenzie lied. The last time she had seen Robert Price was when she was twelve years old, lying dead on the kitchen floor—a battered and bruised corpse beyond recognition. “Why do you think that Charles’s murder is related to Robert Price?”

Austin’s mouth flattened. “Well, Detective Price, twenty years ago, a Robert Price went missing in Lakemore. Who now we know was actually Charles. And around that same time, a Robert Price was reported missing in Nashville. Now, Charles—the fake Robert Price—showed up alive before he was killed. But the real Robert Price—your legal father according to your birth certificate—was never found. Isn’t that a strange coincidence?”

It wasn’t a strange coincidence at all.

It was a mess.

She swallowed repeatedly—a lump sitting firmly in the back of her throat. Austin’s predatory eyes were fixed on her. And for the first time, Mackenzie couldn’t get a read on someone.

After Mackenzie and Melody had buried the real Robert Price’s body in the woods, Melody had reported him missing. But Robert’s family in Nashville must have reported him missing as well. Meanwhile, Charles, who knew what had happened that night, left the state only to return twenty years later.

“It is a strange coincidence.”

“Did you know that Robert Price was searching for you and Melody after your mother ran away?” Austin asked, reading from a file. “His family said that Robert was furious that he had no idea where his child was.”

And Robert had tracked them down. He’d confronted Melody and Charles, who had panicked and beaten him to death. The man Melody had helped bury was not the father she remembered—an alcoholic abuser who her mother claimed she killed in self-defense—but a stranger. An innocent man.

“I… I didn’t know that.”

“I’ll tell you what. I think whatever happened to Charles has something to do with Robert Price.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Charles had massive gambling debts from Vegas,” she countered.

“That was almost twenty years ago.”

“Loan sharks can hold grudges, Detective Kennedy.”

“Good point. Except we can’t find any large sums of money that Charles borrowed,” he said smugly. “We have to keep our options open. Something about this smells personal to me. Is there anything else you know?”

The little fan in the room whirred slowly, creaking. The sound scratched Mackenzie’s eardrums, grounding her. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. After a beat, he nodded.

There was a knock on the door. Nick poked his head in, his face ashen. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem. We’re done.” Austin closed the file. “For now.”

Nick walked in, with his hands in his pocket. “They found Lucas.”

Mackenzie shot up from her chair. “What about the others? Is he okay?”

He shook his head, solemnly.

Her heart sank. “Oh, no.”

Lucas Williams’s body was found next to a creek, under a bridge. Some of the volunteers had made the heartbreaking discovery. Mack and Nick sat in silence on the ride over, only broken when Mackenzie’s phone pinged. It was Sergeant Sully.

“Mack? How far are you?”

“Less than ten minutes.”

“Just a heads up—I have dispatched some cops there to contain the crime scene so that it’s not trampled over by the rest of the volunteers. Rivera and I just left the scene to inform the parents.”

Mackenzie couldn’t imagine how that conversation would play out. “Yeah, okay.”

Sully stayed on the line for a few seconds, quiet, before hanging up.

Mackenzie rested her head against the leather and closed her eyes. The disappearance of the three boys had even sent Sully out into the field. Her shrewd sergeant wasn’t lazy—just more effective delegating, having to balance administrative work on top of supervising the Detectives Unit of seven senior and three junior detectives.

Nick parked the car close to the bridge, along with squad cars and the Medical Examiner’s van. They climbed out to be met with gray sky and drizzle, though some green was beginning to pop back up in the woods. It was a welcome sight after an unrelenting winter, which had arrived strong and early and left just as quickly in February. The freezing weather had coincided with a recession and protests, not to mention a disturbing murder case that had exposed a spate of kidnappings. But spring had arrived after much anticipation—maybe now Lakemore would get a breather.

Alas.

Mackenzie spotted a crowd. A small group of volunteers stood a few feet away, behind the yellow crime scene tape. Some patrol officers stood in front of them, making sure no one got by. Under the old bridge built of stone, technicians from the Medical Examiner’s office stood wearing their protective gear.

Mackenzie and Nick navigated their way down around the moss-covered rocks and wild shrubbery. She felt Nick tense next to her and squeezed his shoulder. He relaxed and nodded.

Justin turned to greet them in a gruff voice, his thick eyebrows visible above the mask. He handed them coveralls, gloves and skull masks.

Everyone was prickly, on edge, and grim. The volunteers had tears in their eyes as they tried getting a view. There were five technicians blocking the view of the body, three patrol officers and two from the Sheriff’s Office. As law enforcement officers, they were trained not to let emotions get the best of them. Over the years, all of them were somewhat desensitized to violence. But when the victim was a child, there was no amount of traini. . .