Page 26 of The Hanging Dolls
“Looking forward to it,” she purred, leaning in to plant a quick, almost casual kiss on his lips.
“Still into spying, Storm?” Aiden muttered, half-amused, as they walked past the couple and out of earshot.
“What do you mean?” She resisted the urge to glance back. Her mind raced, her stomach churning at the man’s brazen infidelity, the casual way he betrayed his wife without a second thought. The young woman sauntered off, heels clicking on the pavement, while the man pulled out his phone, probably to call his wife and lie about his morning.
“You did this at Quantico too. Watching people like you were trying to catch them.”
She froze. “No, I wasn’t. And you weren’t at Quantico.”
“I was there for a seminar for a few weeks.” He avoided her gaze and fixed his glasses. Was that a nervous tick? “Anyway, I returned my car so we should carpool.”
“Why did you return your car?” She crossed her arms.
“So that we could carpool. And save FBI money.”
“Sure,” Zoe agreed nonchalantly, but her skin prickled at how astute Aiden was. He was always poking and prodding, looking for something in her to shake off. While Zoe walked with a skip in her step and muscles in her face hanging loose, Aiden was the opposite.
Statuesque and stoic.
“Did you ever have thoughts about wanting to kill him?” Aiden had asked, his long legs crossed.
“What?” It was their fourth session. Why wasn’t he signing her off to say she was fit to return to duty?
“He was a rapist and a master manipulator. Surely, you had violent thoughts about him?”
Zoe did. Every night. Every night she bottled the thoughts about wanting to break his bones one by one and slit his throat. That rancid rage clotted in her throat.
“Never,” she snapped.
Aiden stared at her blankly. “I don’t believe you.”
FIFTEEN
Harborwood Police Station was a whirl of activity. In the two days since Zoe had arrived, she’d quickly realized this level of chaos wasn’t normal. The phones rang off the hook, with concerned residents eager for updates, curious callers fishing for details, and amateur sleuths offering their latest theories. Local reporters, starved for a story more compelling than the ongoing mayoral race, had finally found something to sink their teeth into.
As Zoe and Aiden approached the entrance, she noticed a “Vote for Me” poster for Regina Warner stapled haphazardly to the wooden siding. She’d heard snippets of conversation hinting at something brewing, but nothing concrete. A patrol officer passed by, tearing the poster down with a quick, practiced motion. Catching Zoe’s eye, he muttered something about keeping the station a politics-free zone.
As if any place truly was.
“Do you think it’s a coincidence that something so out of character has happened in this town in the run-up to the elections?” she asked Aiden.
“It’s a drastic step.”
“Did you come across any new visitor or passersby?”
“We had two leads but none of them have any history and both have alibis.” His face fell. “It looks more likely to be a townie.”
They made their way to a small room just ahead of the lock-up that was their assigned working space. The room was cramped and sparsely furnished, with a single, old desk cluttered with files and a flickering computer monitor that cast a dim, uneven light across the space. The air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee and the faint mustiness of papers left untouched for too long. Her mind was still absorbed by thoughts of Lily. She had stayed up all night going through Violent Criminal Apprehension Program and N-Dex for any similarities between Lily’s case and any other. But she found nothing.
“Hey.” Scott came up in a crinkled suit. “Jesus, it’s so bright in here. I got this toy from the evidence locker.” He placed the bagged teddy bear on the table between them. “I sent a picture to Lily’s parents. They confirmed it’s not hers.”
Zoe picked it up and turned it around. The fabric was worn, with threads fraying and one of its glass eyes cracked. “This is really old,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “Could it belong to the killer?”
“Or he picked it up from some donation site or the dumpster.” Scott blinked forcefully and fished for something in his coat. He took out a bottle of eye drops and squirted some in his eyes.
“Either way, it means something to the killer,” Aiden added.
“Did you find anything on your end?” Scott asked.
