to rub the fatigue away. I’ve been holed in my office for the past few days, trying to take care of this clusterfuck of events. Trying to make sense of what’s happening.
I still don’t have any of the answers I need. Too many pieces are missing, too many unknown factors. I don’t know who is digging back into the case or why, and I don’t know what to make of Mackenzie or the games she’s been playing. Something niggles at the back of my mind, demanding to be heard.
I had to make a statement earlier this week on behalf of Vincent and the rest of the guys before Page Six, The Inquirer, or any other papers twisted the situation. I’ve kept Mackenzie’s name and identity out of the press. Not that she deserved any of my protection at this point, but I can’t find it in me to throw her to the wolves.
I found out the hard way that she was, indeed, alive. The news came like a blow to the chest. I wanted to see that she was alive and well with my own two eyes, despite the mess that had transpired between us. The issue was, she was taken to the Redwood Memorial Hospital, but because her injuries were so extensive, she had to be transferred to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Eureka. It didn’t escape my notice that if Vincent was never airlifted back to LA, they would’ve been recovering in the same hospital.
The staff wouldn’t give Dan and me any information other than news that she was stable. Her parents wouldn’t allow anyone to see her, so that meant I had to call daily to make sure she pulled through. The last time I spoke to the head nurse, she hesitated when telling me that Mackenzie was moved to another facility, and that was all she could tell me. I haven’t been able to locate her since. That’s what scares me the most, my need to still know where she is at all times.
Glancing down at the bright screen, I move the cursor, reading over the reports once more. Zach’s home was broken into while we were in Vegas. Nothing was taken like it would’ve been in a regular robbery. Instead, his office was trashed and the safe left open, but nothing of importance taken. There were no fingerprints, no footage, and none of the neighbors remember seeing anything suspicious that night.
Deep in my gut, I know it was her. I don’t know how she managed to get in and out without leaving one fingerprint behind. I don’t know what the hell she would want with Zach or with anything in his safe. I think back to the night of the poker game when she was gone for a while.
Was she staking out the place? It would make sense if she took his money or any of his valuables, but that’s just it, she didn’t.
From what we can tell, she didn’t take anything valuable at all.
So, what did she take?
What was her endgame?
The guys want to believe so badly that she’s a gold digger, but if she was, wouldn’t she have taken the good shit and run off? Why trash his office and leave everything of value behind? It doesn’t make sense.
Zach is pissed. Trent is being secretive, and Marcus is doing damage control, just as I am, trying to find a fucking solution to this mess. And Vincent has been oddly quiet during this whole process. He’s back in Ferndale for the time being, recovering with his parents, who he loathes. Another suspicious act in itself.
After his outburst at the hospital, Vincent hasn’t mentioned Mackenzie’s name. I didn’t tell any of the guys she’s alive and well. The news outlets have reported vaguely that both victims in the accident have survived. That was answer enough for them.
I’m just about to call it a night when there’s a knock on the other end of the door, and Dan lets himself in. With a cloud of heavy silence surrounding him, he walks in with purpose, a thick file in hand, and he drops it onto the table before me.
“Everything is in there.”
I drop my gaze to the file and frown. Placing my hand over the manila folder, I start sliding it toward me, but pause at the sound of Dan’s deep voice.
“There’s a lot to take in, but remember, not everything is always as it seems. And I suggest you read this before going any further.”
That frown deepens