Page 42 of The Hanging Dolls
“So that I can lie on it without breaking my back.”
Zoe nibbled on her thumb, noting how even Aiden didn’t have any mementos of his life—no pictures or signs of anything beyond the daily grind of combing through evidence and people’s minds.
“What’s bothering you?” he asked.
“I don’t know what man Lily was referring to. It could just be Phil?”
“Unlikely.” He sank into a chair. “Didn’t that guy from the fishery, Andy, who saw Lily, say that she wanted to go say hi to someone?”
“Yeah…”
“And it was none of her friends, but it was someone she recognized.”
“But Tara was abducted from her home at night. The killer had risked an abduction in broad daylight.”
When her phone rang, Simon’s name flashed on it.
“It’s 11 p.m.,” Zoe pointed out instead of the customary hello. “Why are you calling me this late?”
“Because I’m sitting here and reviewing your IT request to pick apart a perfectly good CCTV footage,” he replied, his voice craggy with sleep. She could hear the hum of the running dishwasher.
“We got a second missing girl, Simon. One was found dead. With creepy ropes and a message in the woods.”
The minute she said his name, Aiden swiftly turned on his chair, giving her his back and engrossing himself in a book.
“Creepy ropes? How many were there?”
She knew she didn’t have to hide anything from him. “Three. There’s nothing in any database about a similar MO. Aiden believes it’s three victims, and I agree.”
He whistled. Dishes clanged. “Z, my hands are tied. How are you and Wesley working together?”
When he saidZ, a current ran through her. She didn’t feel any want or desire. It was like an old feeling trying to resurrect. “Great. He says hi. What’s the problem? Budget?”
“We’re stretched thin. IT is overloaded. Oh, Aiden is with you? It’s late…”
Zoe sensed that sharp tilt to his tone, but she refused to acknowledge it. He was married. Why would he care?
“Children, Simon. These are kids!” Her voice climbed higher. Ever since she’d held Gina’s twins in her arms, she knew she had become soft. She finally understood something that was both illogical and pure truth—how the value of a person was inversely in proportion to their size. From the corner of her eye, she saw Aiden focusing too hard on the same page, his grip tight on the spine.
“Harborwood isn’t the only place with a child killer.”
Zoe slumped into a chair and rubbed her eyes. “I know. I know. You’re right.”
She had worked all kinds of disturbing cases. Whenever she found herself in the midst of a disturbing case, staring into theeyes of someone whose world had been blown to smithereens by someone wielding a hammer, she painfully remembered that she had somehow dealt with worse.
Somehow there was always something worse out there. But evil was a funny thing. It didn’t have a gradient; it just had different shapes.
“Listen. I’ll try my best,” Simon said, his voice softening. “I can’t make any promises, but you’ll have to be patient.”
“Okay.” At least that was something. Maybe she could learn how to work ultra-savvy software and analyze that video herself.
Nancy’s voice could be heard in the background. “Who are you talking to?”
“Oh, it’s just work. Dale,” Simon said.
“Okay, I’m going to bed!”
A hot flush crept over Zoe’s face, making it throb.
