Page 11 of The Hanging Dolls
She got out of bed and pulled open the curtains to view the night sky shrouded in thick, rolling clouds that blotted out the moon and stars. Wind raced through the trees in the distance, whipping branches and sending leaves spiraling in the air. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment, as if the sky itself was growling. Lightning cracked, illuminating the landscape in brief, blinding flashes, casting jagged shadows across the ground. And then the rain began to fall, first as a light drizzle, then intensifying into a torrential downpour, each drop striking the ground like a drumbeat.
Zoe tied her frizzy hair in a tight bun and put on her black hoodie. She’d received a message from a colleague at the FBI, sharing the location she needed. Her tepid gaze hardened and she stepped out into the rainy night.
She jogged to her destination, having memorized the layout of the town. A chill tightened her skin. Drops of water hung off her eyelashes, making her vision blurry, but she plowed on. By the time she rounded into the street lined with single-story homes, her heart was thumping and her legs were seizing up. She remembered the address. It was the little house at the end of the street.
And there was the truck she had seen earlier in the day at the diner.
Her pace slowed as she made her way to the house. It was past midnight so all the lights were out, and the sheets of rain obscured her vision even further.
She reached the modest house and gave it the once-over. The tattooed man from the diner was probably asleep. She could key his car but that would wake up the neighbors. A quick scan revealed no cameras at the door. She took the simplest approach.
She rang the bell. Twice.
Then she stood around the corner, her back pressed to the side of the house. After a minute, the front door opened with a creak. She slowly peered around the corner, careful not to be seen. It was the man, in his pajamas. He glanced around, squinting in the rain. He mumbled something under his breath, spun on his heel and stomped back inside.
When the door slammed shut, she crept around to the front of the house and rang the bell again.
This time he swung open the door with a growl. Zoe slithered further around the corner of the house, her jacket sweeping the wet plywood. His boots squelched in the pools of water as he walked down the steps of the porch, his eyes scouring the area.
But the storm had knocked out most of the lights on the streets. Shadows slanted and rippled on the street, occasionally fractured by lightning.
He might not be able to see clearly, but Zoe could see everything.
But darkness was a friend. At least when she was likethis.It was at night when she came alive, when some parts of her that were otherwise dormant suddenly reared their heads. She slipped easily into the folds of the velvety night, not in the least bit afraid of the monsters that lurked in the shadows.
Shelurked in the shadows.Shewas that danger people feared. And in the dead of night when the rest of the world slept,Zoe shed the sugary, sweet layers that most people knew. She became that angry girl whose mother was murdered, andshehad to clean up the evidence because of a promise she’d made.
She imagined unleashing all her pent-up rage on this man—the man who was hurting the waitress from the diner. How satisfying it would be to feel his bones break under her pounding fists; how gratifying it would be to see his blood on her skin. He would absorb the blows; his body would convulse. And he would know—deep down, he would know that he deserved this, to feel pain like he made the waitress feel pain. Because justice mattered to Zoe. And justice wasn’t always served.
The sound of the rain amplified as she slowly let the rest of the world back in. Her senses began to wake up and the red hot rage reduced to a simmer.
The man went back inside the house, cursing. Zoe contemplated ringing the bell again but stopped herself. She was new to this town; she couldn’t afford to get into trouble.
With whitened knuckles and quivering fingers, she shot a text message.
Z: How soon can you put me on the books?
The reply was instantaneous.
Unknown: Are you sure?
She knew that if she slipped once, she wasn’t going to be able to stop.
Z: Yes.
SIX
“If you had the chance to hurt them without any consequences, would you?” Aiden asked.
Another dreadful day with the shrink and Zoe was striving hard to maintain her professionalism. “Them?”
“The people you were undercover with. They did horrible things and you had to pretend to be a part of their group. What would you have done if there were no laws?”
She leaned forward. “I’m supposed to say that I wouldn’t hurt them, right? So that you don’t mark me down as some red flag?”
“Now, I’ll know that you’re lying.”
She chewed her lips, thinking hard. “I would have. And I think most people would.”
