Page 71 of The Hanging Dolls
Rachel stood near them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face drawn and tense. Zoe’s heart sank at the sight of her mother looking so worried—Rachel was always so strong, so unflappable. But now, her eyes darted between the two men, her posture defensive, as if she were bracing herself for something bad to happen.
One of the Marshals, a tall man with a square jaw and closely cropped hair, spoke first, “Ms. Sullivan, we need to discuss some developments. We’ve received information that may require a change in your arrangements.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed, her voice low and controlled. “What kind of developments? I thought everything was under control.”
The second Marshal, slightly shorter but just as imposing, nodded. “We’ve had credible reports that your location might be compromised. It’s possible someone’s been asking questions—nothing concrete yet, but enough to raise concerns.”
Zoe’s heart skipped a beat. Compromised? What did that mean? She pressed closer to the door, her small fingers gripping the edge as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing.
Rachel’s face tightened, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists at her sides. “You said we were safe here. That this place was secure.”
The taller Marshal glanced at his partner before responding “We understand that, and we’ve taken every precaution. But we can’t ignore the possibility that someone’s looking for you. If you’d prefer, we can relocate you—keep you and your daughters safe.”
Zoe felt her heart thump loudly in her chest at the mention of herself. Her eyes widened as she tried to process the gravity of the situation. Were they in danger? What was going on?
Her mother had never told her anything. Could this have something to do with those passports in the attic?
Rachel’s gaze flicked toward the door for just a moment, but she quickly looked back at the Marshals. “No,” she said firmly. “We’re staying here. I’m not uprooting Zoe and Gina again. We’ve built a life here. I can’t—won’t—tear that apart.”
The shorter Marshal exchanged a glance with his partner, then nodded. “We understand, but you need to be vigilant. If anything feels off, you contact us immediately. We’ll have extra surveillance in the area, just to be sure.”
Rachel exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Fine. But you’d better be right about this.”
The Marshals nodded, their expressions unchanging as they turned to leave. As they moved toward the door, Zoe quickly stepped back, pressing herself against the wall in the hallway, her heart racing. She watched as the men passed by, their presence like a dark cloud hanging in the air, before they exited the house, the door clicking shut behind them.
Rachel stood in the living room for a moment, her back to the hallway, her posture still tense. Zoe hesitated, not sure if she should reveal that she had been listening. But something in her mother’s stance made her step forward, her small voice breaking the silence. “Mom?”
Rachel turned, her eyes softening when she saw Zoe standing there. “Hey, sweetie. You’re awake.”
Zoe nodded, biting her lip. “Who were those men? Why were they here?”
Rachel hesitated, then walked over to Zoe, kneeling down so they were at eye level. “They’re just… making sure we’re safe, honey. Everything’s fine, okay?”
Zoe wasn’t convinced. “Are we in trouble?”
Rachel shook her head, forcing a smile. “No, we’re not in trouble. We’re just being careful, that’s all. I promise, everything’s going to be okay.”
But as Rachel pulled Zoe into a reassuring hug, Zoe couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong—something big that her mother wasn’t telling her.
Zoe stood under the scalding spray of the shower, letting the hot water pound against her skin. Steam filled the small bathroom, curling around her like a warm, protective blanket, but it did little to ease the knot of tension that had taken up permanent residence between her shoulder blades since she arrived at Harborwood. She pressed her palms against the cool tiles, bowing her head, trying to let the heat wash away the frustration and helplessness. But no matter how hard she tried, the thoughts kept circling, relentless and sharp.
Her mind drifted to her conversation with Keith and the little pieces of information he had given her.
Now it made sense. Rachel had pissed someone off big-time and she must have testified against him or provided some information, which is why she went under witness protection. Perhaps it was because she got pregnant with Zoe that she didn’t go back to Keith.
Heaviness pressed into her chest.
The motel’s showerhead sputtered slightly, the water pressure faltering for a moment before resuming its steady flow. Zoe sighed, rolling her neck to work out the stiffness. Just as she began to relax, a sharp knock echoed through the room.
Zoe’s eyes snapped open, her heart rate spiking as she quickly turned off the water. She stood still for a moment, listening, her senses suddenly on high alert.
Another knock.
It was urgent, insistent. She wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not at this hour—it was midnight. Her mind raced, running through possibilities, none of them good.
Zoe stepped out of the shower, gasping as the cool air hit her wet skin. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around her body, droplets of water still clinging to her as she moved quickly through the room. The knocks came again, more impatient this time.
She reached for the Glock she kept on the nightstand. Holding the gun low but ready, she approached the door, her bare feet soundless on the worn carpet. She took a deep breath, her grip tightening on the handle as she cracked the door open just enough to see who was there.
