Page 63 of The Hanging Dolls
“It’s not fair. None of this fair,” he continued. “No one is going to know this man died for the greater good.”
“I’m sorry. Nothing is fair, Simon. Fairness is a man-made construct. And that’s why it’s up to us to dispense it.”
“Zoe Storm, the forever supporter of vigilante justice. Little Robin Hood.”
Her stomach whirred with butterflies. It was the nickname he had given her all those years ago when they used to spend their nights tangled up in each other.
She stayed on the phone with him for a few more minutes while he composed himself before letting him go. When she hung up, she clutched the phone in her hand.
Somewhere she knew why Simon had reached out toher. But she refused to let the thought coalesce. It made her feel icky, likeshewas doing something wrong.
“What are you guys looking at?” Zoe asked, as she went back into the room.
“Trying to find a connection between Lily and Regina. Travis is working on filing a court order to get more access to Regina’s finances. If her campaign is in financial trouble, then that strengthens our case.” Scott sighed.
“But there’s still a question mark hanging over Lily.”
“Yeah.” His face dropped. “The coroner sent us Tara’s autopsy report.” The door to Zoe’s makeshift office pushed open with a creak and Terri popped her head in. “Logan Bennett is here.”
“What is he doing here?” Zoe asked.
“I called him.” Scott closed the file with a thud. “I figured I’d have another go at him now that we know about that bribe money. Maybe he’ll spill something or know something about Lily.”
“That’s a good idea. Play your face card,” Zoe suggested.
He paused, standing up. “My face card?”
“I saw his face when you were attacked. He didn’t expect the violence. Seeing your face might make him feel more guilty.”
“She’s a got a point, boss,” Terri said. “Or you can scare him with that face.”
Scott shook his head and popped a Tylenol in his mouth.
Zoe busied herself with the autopsy reports that the coroner had sent. The cause of death was listed as strangulation just like Lily. Her blood toxicology reports showed traces of chloroform. The method was the same but the more Zoe studied the reports and pictures of the crime scene and Tara’s body, the more she detected an aberration.
Maybe it was her nightmare that brought forward the observation sitting in her subconscious mind.
Aiden cleared his throat. “So, what did Simon want to talk about?”
She didn’t miss the edge in his tone. “How did you know it was Simon?”
“A hunch.” He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the file in his lap.
“Bruce died. From counterterrorism. He’s taking it hard.”
Something flickered on Aiden’s face but he regained his composure and went back to the file.
“The marks on Tara’s neck weren’t as clean as Lily’s. There were multiple areas of bruising on the neck as if the rope was repositioned and adjusted repeatedly. The overall pattern of the ligature marks followed an uneven path—the impressions overlapped and fluctuated between deeper and lighter,” Zoesaid, changing the subject. “Maybe you are right. There are two killers. One is better at strangling than the other.”
“Or the killer hesitated. After killing Lily in such a seamless fashion, why would strangling Tara be any harder for him? She had chloroform in her system, so she wouldn’t have been able to struggle. Was it possible that killing another girl was beginning to take its toll on him? In his twisted mind, he didn’t want to do this.”
Another possibility came to her. “What if the killerknewTara? What if he had a personal connection with her?”
Suddenly a loud voice punctured her thoughts. Followed by a gut-wrenching wailing.
Alarmed, she exited the room and hurried down the corridor into the main area where most of the desks, including the reception area, were. A couple of uniformed officers were standing around a hysterical woman, trying to placate her. She wore a green dress that was a little too tight, stilettos with straps that looked uncomfortable, and a large tote that was falling apart. Tears gushed down her cheeks, leaving mascara trails.
“Oh my God! Please do something!” she cried, clutching her unkempt red hair.
