Page 20 of The Hanging Dolls
ELEVEN
Zoe watched Aiden climb out of his sedan. After days of thick moisture choking the air, the sun was finally blazing in the sky. But still Zoe felt a chill clinging to her skin like gum. Aiden’s reflection mushroomed up and out in the glass of the cars lined along the street as he crossed the distance between them.
“Waiting for Scott?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Her voice croaked as she stifled a yawn.
“Didn’t sleep last night?”
“I don’t know about you, but that motel mattress sucks.”
“I ordered a new mattress.”
“What?” She gasped. “Who orders a new mattress, Aiden? Is the FBI paying for that?”
He shrugged, innocently. “I don’t know how long we’re here for. I’m paying out of my pocket. We do spend more than a third of our lives sleeping.” He retrieved a yogurt bar from his coat and handed it to her. “It’s got extra sugar and is strawberry flavored.”
She eyed it with suspicion before taking it. “Why?”
“It’s going to be a tough conversation.” He jutted his chin toward the house in front of them. The only one in the neighborhood that didn’t have Halloween decorations, and itstill managed to be the spookiest one. A house that echoed deep sadness.
“So a new mattress.” The sight of the house had taken her last bit of breath so she changed the topic. “That’s weird, Aiden. Were you picked on in school? Or were you homeschooled?”
He chuckled, pushing his glasses up. “Homeschooled until middle school. You’ll be fine, Zoe. You’ve done this many times before. We can talk about it, if you’re struggling.”
“We can’t talk, Aiden. Because you hide behind control and I hide behind chaos.” She flashed him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, while he stared at her with a mix of hurt and disapproval. This wasn’t the first time Aiden had tried talking to her in an attempt to peel away the layers to understand what lay underneath.
Zoe felt a flare of anger. “Listen, I don’t need to be here.”
“Actually, you do.” Aiden sighed and stood up, sauntering over to a sleek table to pour himself a coffee. “Your boss mandated this.”
Zoe curled her hands into fists under her thighs. The desperation to crack a joke or roll her eyes or scurry away to find more sugar rose inside her. “Simon? Why would Simon think I need an evaluation?”
He shrugged, bringing the cup to his lips. Every movement he made was so measured, every word that came out of his mouth deliberate. “Deep undercover missions leave wounds, Agent Storm. I’m the doctor who has to diagnose just how deep those scars run.”
“I’m different. I don’t bruise easily.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Baker, this is Special Agent Zoe Storm and Dr. Aiden Wesley from the FBI. They are consulting on the case,” Scott said in a gentle, rehearsed voice.
Zoe sat next to him on the faint pink couch in a living room cluttered with cat figurines. The walls were painted a soft, faded yellow, their surfaces almost entirely covered with framed photographs of Lily right from the time she was a newborn in the hospital to her seventh birthday party. With a sinking feeling, Zoe realized that that’s where the pictures would stop.
The cat figurines were everywhere—lined up on the mantel above the brick fireplace, perched on the windowsills, and arranged in neat rows on the shelves that flanked the room.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Zoe mumbled. She hated saying those words because she knew they weren’treallylistening. They were just empty words that washed over them like water.
Tim and Mary Baker sat across the sturdy coffee table. Their faces were identical—hanging low like their facial muscles had loosened all elasticity since they learned the news. Their eyes stared into the distance, perhaps searching for Lily. The clothes on their muscled bodies, from years of hard labor in the processing plant, looked musty and worn out.
Bella stood in a corner of the room with her arms crossed and slender body slightly curved into the wall. Her face was hidden behind her dark hair, like she didn’t want to be there. From the corner of her eye, Zoe noticed Aiden watching Bella.
“We have some questions to ask you.” Scott rubbed his hands in front of him, excessively. “Were there any men or boys in Lily’s life?”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked, almost sleepily.
“Lily left Bella to go say hi to your boss who was driving by. But then she told him she had to go to some man who was calling her over.”
Mary’s face lifted and she blinked vehemently. “Man? What man?”
“That’s what we are asking. Was there any man she was in contact with? A teacher she mentioned, a neighbor who was extra friendly or an uncle who visited often…” Scott asked. “Can you think of?—?”
