Page 59 of The Hanging Dolls
“Yes, sir.” She did a little salute. Dr. Parsons chuckled on his way out.
“How are you so chirpy after everything?” Scott accused her sharply. “Two girls are dead. One can go missing anytime. And people want to killus.”
A jolt ran through her at his biting words, an angry reminder of how everything had been going wrong since she arrived in this town. “If I start letting my job impact me, then I’ll want to puta gun in my mouth. You have to learn to compartmentalize. You can’t take it this personally.”
“You have to take it personally when people are getting murdered. Whenchildrenare getting murdered.” His eyes were blazing. With the scar running down his face, he looked even more threatening. “How does it not make you angry?”
She opened her mouth to pacify him but was distracted by an argument taking place on the other side of the curtain.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” a man said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Can’t you do a single thing right? Slipping in the bathroom like some idiot who doesn’t know how to use his own legs.”
An old man on a wheelchair flinched, his hands trembling slightly as they clutched the blanket. “I… I didn’t mean to?—”
“Didn’t mean to!” the young man yelled. “That’s what you always say, isn’t it? Didn’t mean to fall, didn’t mean to screw up, didn’t mean to ruin my goddamn day with your stupidity. Do you have any idea how sick I am of this? Of cleaning up your mess?”
The old man’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he kept his head down. “I’m sorry… I really am…”
“Sorry?” he sneered. “You’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t fix anything, Dad. Sorry doesn’t undo the hours I lost today because you can’t even stay upright in your own bathroom. You’re pathetic.”
Staff arrived and swiftly ushered the pair into a room. Zoe stared at the man who was bullying his elderly father. Scott’s words simmered inside her about how she could not be angry.
She was angry. The unfairness and injustice always got to her. She just had a different way of handling it.
The sound of Scott’s phone ringing drew her back to the present.
“Hey, Dr. Wesley,” he said, answering the phone with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m okay, I’m on my way out now. Thanks. What happened? Yeah, I remember… are you sure? Okay…” His eyes were bulging when he disconnected. “Remember the wire transfers to Logan Bennett’s account from that shell company—Global Holdings Inc.?”
“Yeah.”
“The court order went through with the bank.” His smile was sly. “It is registered to Regina Warner.”
THIRTY-THREE
The small park was tucked away, where the sea breeze carried a chill that clung to Zoe’s skin. The sky above was a blanket of gray, heavy with clouds that threatened rain but held back, casting everything in a dull, muted light. The air smelled faintly of salt and wet earth, and the few trees lining the park’s perimeter rustled quietly in the wind.
Zoe and Scott stood near a weathered wooden bench. Her coat was pulled tight against the cold. She looked down at her suede boots, caked with mud. Those were going to go down the dumpster. But she’d had no time to do any shopping. If she wasn’t spending her time reading reports or witness statements, she was struggling in the kitchenette in her motel room trying to cook something healthy.
That was life on the road. A stray leaf blowing from one to another. But what roots could she put down when she didn’t even know where she came from? When was she lying about who she was?
She watched the small group gathered in the center of the park—Regina, poised and polished, sitting on the edge of the stone fountain, speaking animatedly into the microphone held by a local reporter.
Scott stood quietly, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes scanning the area with practiced caution. “Seems like everyone in this town has something to say,” he muttered, his breath visible in the chilly air.
“Yeah, but not everyone’s as good at spinning a story as Regina,” Zoe replied, her eyes narrowing as she watched Regina gesture with her hands, her expression one of carefully crafted concern. “Let’s hope she’s in the mood to talk when she’s done playing the saint. Did Terri find out how she knows Logan Bennett?”
He let out a small puff. “Five years ago, Logan Bennett was a consultant at EcoSolutions Group. She’s trying to find a link between Regina or Global Holdings Inc. and that company.”
The interview dragged on, the reporter nodding intently as Regina’s voice carried on the wind, just out of earshot. Zoe’s patience was wearing thin, her fingers tapping against her leg as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She spotted a man mimicking her impatience.
A medium-built man on the shorter side with styled, jet-black hair, and beady eyes stood at the periphery, his lips moving exactly like Regina’s. He watched her with a burning ambition, analyzing every twist of her lips and flick of her hand, as if he was assessing how well his creation was doing.
Zoe immediately knew who it was—Regina’s campaign manager, Connor.
Finally, the reporter lowered the microphone, offering Regina a polite smile as they exchanged a few final words. Zoe straightened, catching Scott’s eye. “This is our shot. Let’s go.”
They started toward the fountain just as Regina stood up, her smile fading slightly when she noticed them approaching. Her eyes darted between Zoe and Scott, and for a split second, something that looked like annoyance flickered across her face.But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a pleasant but guarded expression.
“Detective Cohen and Agent Storm,” Regina greeted them with a firm handshake. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. What happened to your face?”
