Page 19 of The Hanging Dolls
Zoe remembered the first time she had informed a parent their child had been found dead. The mother had gone into an erratic shock episode, unleashing a barrage of slaps and punches at Zoe. She absorbed them all and didn’t let anyone stop her. She knew what grief felt like.
“We’re also checking the contents of the stomach. Will send the report as soon as it’s available.” The coroner pressed his lips in a thin line and escorted them out of the room before disappearing around the corner into one of the laboratories.
Zoe slumped against the wall, her eyes catching the covered body of Lily all alone in the room. There was something so uncouth and immoral about how they had got to the truth. The town of Harborwood had spent days and nights searching for a little girl, and now here she was lying on a stretcher in an autopsy room.
“In the two days that I’ve known you, this is the longest you’ve been quiet,” Scott said gently.
“Yeah, it feels wrong to have a light conversation right now but it’s the only way I seem to compartmentalize.”
He nodded. “So what do you think?”
She didn’t respond and instead dialed Aiden. “You’re on speaker. It’s me.”
“Yes, I have your number saved.” His dry voice filtered through. “How did the autopsy go?”
“He gave her Claritin, Aiden.” A beat of silence. She bit her lip. “Well?”
“Were there signs of any other kind of assault?”
“None at all. She wasn’t even dehydrated or malnourished for someone who was in captivity for four days.”
“That would suggest two things—either this is the killer’s first kill or it’s someone who knows her well. We aren’t looking at a sadist. Were there any other signs that he hesitated?”
“Yeah!” Scott’s eyes widened at the thought. “He strangled her from behind.”
“Avoiding seeing her face. Suggests a guilty conscious.”
“I plucked a flower. Please stop me from stealing a star,” Scott recited from memory as he paced the small hallway. “He sounded apologetic. Think he’s being forced by someone?”
“No. If he was he wouldn’t have left the note like that so out in the open for us to find,” Zoe said.
“It appears that the killer is experiencing an intrapsychic conflict. There’s a struggle between his primal urges and his Superego, which is moral conscious. TheirEgo, which mediates the two, has broken down, manifesting as a plea for intervention. They are unable to self-regulate.”
“So we’re dealing with an insane killer?” Scott muttered.
“It takes some kind of insanity to kill someone,” she whispered.
A memory surfaced in the back of her mind.
It was a balmy day in Frisco, a suburb of Dallas, when Zoe was in the backyard, watering the yellow, dying grass. Texas heat was dry and abrasive. She was convinced that her skin would start shedding. Gina spent all her time inside even though she was cranky about being unable to run around. Beads of sweat trickled down her back as she hosed the little backyard in wide sweeps. Rachel came outside carrying a basket of washing to hang out.
The piercing sound of sirens punctured the air. Zoe’s head whipped to Rachel. Rachel’s back straightened like a stiff arrow. Her rattled eyes met hers and then they both sprinted to the front of the house, following the noise.
“What’s happening?” Zoe asked her.
Rachel was in a state of panic, breathing hard, her face cinched with worry. She held Zoe close as other neighbors started coming out of their houses to see what was going on. There were two cop cars parked in front of a house at the end of the row.
“Mom, what is it?” she asked.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed when the cops escorted a man out of the house. She assessed the thickset man with a sneer, wearing a wifebeater. Behind him a woman was crying and being comforted by another cop. “It’s okay… we’re okay.” Rachel sighed in relief and crushed Zoe against her. “We’re okay…”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” She wiped the tears running down her face. “I just got worried. I need you girls to be safe.”
“Why would we be unsafe?”
Rachel never replied.
