Page 27 of The Hanging Dolls
“Nothing on ViCAP or N-Dex. But we got more reports from the coroner.” She powered up her laptop. “No DNA under her fingernails. And we can definitely rule out assault.”
“The crime lab will be slower because of the backlog. Can you make some calls?”
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do,” Zoe said, her tone measured as she studied him with a pointed look. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and there was a sluggishness in his movements that hadn’t been there before.
He hadn’t slept.
He shifted under her gaze, running a hand through his hair. “If there were no ligature marks on Lily anywhere, does that mean she was drugged throughout her ordeal?”
“It’s possible…” Zoe skimmed through the reports, trying to catch anything relevant. “But a child that age being drugged for four days would do some damage. Wouldn’t it?”
“The kidneys were mildly damaged. Evidence of tubular necrosis and interstitial nephritis,” Scott read from the report. “Suggestive of exposure to some nephrotoxin.”
“What about her stomach contents? Her body weight hadn’t changed significantly so she was being fed well.” Aiden drummed a pen on the table, digesting the information. “Food was found in her stomach which means she ate two to four hours before she was killed. But something isn’t adding up.”
“What do you mean?”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the chromatograms included in the report. The detailed chemical analysis of the stomach contents had been included as an appendix, raw data that required a careful eye to interpret.
Scott straightened up, noticing her shift in focus. “What is it?”
She pointed to a series of peaks on the chromatogram. “These spikes here? They indicate the presence of certain organic compounds—vanillin, among others.”
“Vanillin?” Scott repeated, leaning in closer. “Like vanilla?”
“Exactly.” She was on the cusp of discovering something that could help; she could feel it in her fingertips. “But look at the concentration. It’s unusually high, and there’s something else…see this minor peak here? This isn’t just any vanilla. It’s a much purer form, almost certainly from natural sources, and not the synthetic stuff.”
Scott frowned, trying to piece it all together. “So, what are we saying? This isn’t just any chocolate—this is high-end, gourmet stuff.”
“That’s what I’m thinking! The presence of natural vanillin, in this concentration, suggests it came from something rare, like a high-quality ingredient. This could very well be Tahitian vanilla bean.”
Aiden took a sip of his coffee, as he reflected. “And how many chocolatiers around here are likely to use something that specific?”
“Not many,” Zoe said, flipping back to the summary in the report. “The ME found remnants of chocolate truffle in her stomach, but they didn’t go into detail about the ingredients. It could be in that truffle.” She glanced back at the chromatogram, her mind working through the possibilities, her heart beginning to race as a path forward became clearer and more defined. “I think we need to check with some local high-end chocolatiers, the ones who might source rare ingredients. If this is Tahitian vanilla, it could lead us straight to the person who gave her that truffle.”
“I’ll start compiling a list. We can hit up the boutiques, see if anyone’s been buying truffles like this recently,” Scott said.
Zoe glanced up as he headed for the door. “Also, Detective Cohen… take care yourself.”
Scott stopped, catching the implication in her words. He lingered at the doorway, turning red.
“Sugar solves most problems,” she said.
He gave her a brief, tight-lipped smile, but didn’t say anything. “Thanks. Also… call me Scott.”
SIXTEEN
Regina gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white against the leather, as she drove through the winding streets of Harborwood. The town felt oppressive today. The coastal mist clung to the air, blurring the edges of the tree-lined roads and shrouding the small houses in a gray, eerie veil. It was as if the town itself was closing in on her.
Her thoughts swirled like the fog outside, thick and suffocating. The election was looming closer, and with it, a relentless barrage of interviews, debates, and the constant need to present a perfect image. Every word, every gesture was scrutinized, and she was suffocating under the pressure. But it wasn’t just the election. Connor had made it clear that he intended to use Lily’s death to their advantage, a tactic that left a bitter taste in her mouth. And he had threatened her.
She could still hear his words, dripping with menace, as he threatened to go public with information that could ruin her if she didn’t fall in line. That sick bastard. She ground her jaw, imagining how good it would feel for her fist to meet his jaw.
Morality.It’s one lesson her father had tried to instill in her as his father had done before him. The Warners came from a long line of public workers. They all died with no money but withlots of integrity. The two didn’t go hand in hand when working for the government. She could feel her father’s disappointment—it followed her like a shadow.
How Regina had slipped. How she had gone against her principles. How he was maybe right to think that she just wasn’t strong enough.
She had canceled her afternoon appointment. Instead, she was following Connor.
