Page 43 of The Hanging Dolls
“Sorry about that,” Simon said. “Where were we?”
“You don’t have to lie to your wife that you’re talking to me,” she said in a hard voice. “We were just talking aboutwork.”
“Ah… come on, Z…”
“Don’t Z me!”
He sighed. “She’s sensitive about you. She gets insecure. I just didn’t want to get into another fight with her over you after a long day.”
Confusion muddled her brain. “Over me? Seriously, Simon? Why does your wife think I’m the other woman?”
He fell silent. A loud silence that pierced Zoe’s eardrums. “You’re not. But we used to be together.”
“That was years ago, before you even met her…” she whispered.
“And she gets awkward about it. I’ll let you go.” He cleared his throat. Before Zoe could reply, he hung up.
She kept the phone pressed to her ear, rehashing the conversation. Maybe she was too hard on him. She knewsomewhere that Simon still held a torch for her. Who was she to have an opinion on what he was telling his wife? Why was she getting involved? She had bigger things to worry about.
Suddenly, she remembered she wasn’t alone. Aiden was now facing her, his expression stony. Was he judging her? It was an inappropriate conversation to have with a boss. She thought she was going to explode. Her nerves were jangled under her skin, threatening to puncture their way out.
“Sorry about that.” She lowered her gaze.
Aiden shrugged, as unreadable as ever. And she felt it in her bones—the judgment. Wasn’t he a shrink? Wasn’t he supposed totalkand not judge? “I should go.”
Aiden made no attempt to stop her and she felt like an even bigger idiot. For a second, she’d thought they were maybe even friends.
When she got to her room, she twisted her hair in a bun and opened the preliminary reports submitted by the patrol officers and the CSU. None of the neighbors saw anything. The abduction had happened around midnight—too late for any neighbors to be out and about. And due to the storm, no one heard anything either.
The CSU had tagged the shoe print as priority. She studied the report, mulling it over. The shoe size was 10.5, which was standard for an adult male in the US. Based on the pattern, it was Nike. Another generic brand. Particulate evidence of tiny particles of limestone dust and some traces of rust. Could this be an industrial site of some sort?
Lily had an allergic reaction to devil’s club—a plant not found in the woods where her body was discovered. But perhaps devil’s club was present at the site she’d been taken to before she was killed.
TWENTY-FOUR
The next morning Zoe pushed open the door to the small café, the warm scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries washing over her as she stepped inside. The place was cozy, with a few patrons scattered around the tables, quietly sipping their drinks or typing away on laptops. Even the cafés were glum. She missed the big city buzz that trickled into the smallest and most unassuming nooks and crannies. In Harborwood, it was the ocean breeze that penetrated everything. Out the window, she saw a ship half cloaked in the fog in the distance. She couldn’t tell if it was moving closer or further away.
The line at the counter was short. It was a small town. No big queues and no restaurants open after 9 p.m. Her mind was still buzzing with the details she had absorbed the night before. The locals would know the woods well. They hadn’t heard anything from the neighboring towns. No sightings.
When it was her turn, Zoe ordered a strawberry milkshake, one of her favorites. As the barista prepared her drink, she glanced around the café. That’s when she saw him.
Keith was sitting at a corner table, half hidden behind a large newspaper. His shoulders tensed the moment their eyes met, and he tried to sink lower in his seat, the newspaper rising like aflimsy shield between them. Zoe couldn’t help the small, amused smile that tugged at her lips.
It was his lucky day that she didn’t have time to harass him, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easily.
When her milkshake was ready, Zoe picked it up and turned back to the counter. “One more, please,” she said to the barista, looking at Keith over her shoulder. He peeked over the edge of the paper, clearly exasperated. The second milkshake was quickly made, and Zoe took both drinks over to Keith’s table.
Keith stiffened, the newspaper crinkling as he tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed her. But Zoe wasn’t fooled. She walked up to his table and set the second milkshake down in front of him without a word.
Keith slowly lowered the newspaper, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at her. He said nothing and just watched as she turned to leave, his gaze burning into her back as she made her way to the door.
It was Rachel who had loved milkshakes. Zoe hoped that Keith remembered that about her and would unravel whatever secret he was holding.
To Zoe’s irritation, she and Aiden carpooled to the station together. She had managed to squeeze a moment of privacy to get coffee, but the car ride had been agonizingly quiet. So quiet that at one point she had to hum to pretend she didn’t notice Aiden stealing glances at her. The station reminded her of a beehive. Unlike her first impression, where everyone moved around lost and asynchronized, there was an efficiency and urgency plugged into their movements.
They weren’t dealing with the first missing girl in Harborwood anymore—it was a string of kidnappings. She headed straight for the old coffee machine when she realized to her dismay that it was out of order. She had been hoping more sugar would help her think.
“There you are!” She hopped to Scott as he rounded a corner. “Do you know any industrial site that would have devil’s club growing nearby?”
