Page 17 of The Hanging Dolls
I’m sorry. I’ve already plucked a flower, please stop me from climbing a hill and stealing a star.
NINE
Regina woke up with a headache. The last few days were a blur of numbers and regurgitation of the same words over and over again. Yesterday, she had spent the day at a soup kitchen and she was convinced the smell of broth and garlic was seeping from her pores. Downstairs, the camp was already set up—her team engaging in strategy discussions and making calls for votes. She wasn’t ready to go out. Not yet.
She ran a comb through her short, shoulder-length dark hair, trying to disentangle her thoughts. Their campaign was gaining some momentum, but Hicks still had a good hold. She stared at her reflection—almond-shaped, piercing dark eyes, plump, red lips, and caterpillar-like eyebrows. A bold face with a dazzling smile and a penchant for sharp words. But her shoulders drooped from the weight of carrying the hopes of so many people. The stress pressed on her chest like a heavy brick. But she decided to deal with that later. Right now, she needed to go downstairs and be a part of the circus.
“Polling has shown that you are closing the gap, but we need more.” Connor stood next to her, smelling of too much body spray. She wondered if he ever showered or slept. “What did you think of that speech for the blind school?”
“I want to read it again.” She gestured to an intern to bring her more coffee. Unlike Connor, she had blood running through her veins, not caffeine.
“The governor met with Hicks today, while I’ve been trying to set up a meeting with him for over a month.” He scowled. When an intern approached him with some papers, he snatched them and waved him away dismissively.
“Give me a minute, Connor.” She raised her hand, her tone tight and controlled. “Just give me a minute.”
He twisted his mouth like he wanted to say something, but when his phone rang he scurried away to answer it. She took a deep breath, free from his intense scrutiny. She barely recognized her house. The furniture had been pushed against the walls to make room for a haphazard array of folding tables and chairs, where team members sat, hunched over laptops and stacks of paperwork. Papers were scattered everywhere—across tables, the floor, and even draped over the backs of chairs—many of them covered in highlighted notes, scribbled reminders, and printouts of poll data.
The large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall played a 24-hour news channel. On one side of the room, a whiteboard was covered in a mess of numbers, names, and key dates, with dry-erase markers in various colors strewn around its base.
When Connor returned, a jittery energy clung to him. He was gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles had whitened. “I just got a call from my source at the Harborwood PD. Remember Lily Baker?”
“As if anyone wouldn’t.” She frowned. “What happened?”
“She was found dead in the woods. Murdered.”
The murmurs around her drowned into a keening silence. Blood roared in her ears. “Murdered?”
He nodded and pinned her with a look. “Do you know what this means?”
“No.”
“We can use this against Hicks. Crime rate is high.” Connor rambled on animatedly. “Kids aren’t safe anymore. You will put money toward police?—”
“Are you insane? You want to use this?” She searched his eyes. “How insensitive are you?”
“You are right. We should meet the parents first. Beat Hicks to it. I’ll leak the meeting to the news.”
Regina dug her nails into her skin, suppressing the urge to whack him. “Connor, can we just take a moment to absorb the news?”
He huffed. “You need an ace up your sleeve to close the gap. Time is running out, Regina. The dead are going to stay dead.”
“Lower your voice, Connor.” She placed a hand on her waist and puffed out her chest. “You don’t want anyone finding out what an asshole you are.”
He let out a mirthless laugh and rocked back on his heels. “You’re the politician so you have to care what people think. I don’t care about who I offend. And this is your golden ticket.”
She knew Connor was laser-focused on his goal. But his rough edges were getting a little too sharp for her liking. “Connor, I need to remind you that you work forme?—”
“Yes, I do. I’ve done a lot for you,” Connor said casually, but there was a tilt of a threat in his voice. “Don’t you think I’ve done a lot for you, Regina? That if it weren’t for me, you’d be in prison?”
Regina swallowed hard.
The corner of Connor’s mouth lifted in a cocky smirk. “That’s what I thought. Why don’t you focus on winning and I focus on making sure you win?” He gave her a wink that made her stomach recoil.
Regina was standing near the whiteboard, her mind half on the conversation with Connor, half on the numbers scrawled inbright marker, when suddenly, someone turned up the volume on the TV.
Conversations trailed off, the rustling of papers ceased, and the clattering of keyboards stopped. One by one, heads turned toward the screen.
The room fell silent, the only sound in the room the voice of Chief of Police Travis Hunter. The camera zoomed in on Hunter, his face framed by a thick, graying mustache, clearly shaken. He stood at a podium, flanked by officers, the seal of the police department visible behind him.
