Page 81 of The Hanging Dolls
The color drained from Scott’s face and, for a moment, Zoe thought he might pass out. He stared at her, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about? That’s… that’s…”
She felt a wave of pity for him. He had gone through a ringer this past week. “I’m so sorry, Scott. I don’t want to hurt you, but I found some things that don’t add up. It could be nothing, but considering your past with Carly and her ability to play with your head, I think you should do a paternity test. Just to be sure.”
Scott’s hand trembled as he set down his glass. He looked lost, like a man suddenly cut adrift in a storm. “How… how could this happen? Why now? Why would you even look into this?”
Zoe sighed, wishing she could take away his pain. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but there were things that didn’t make sense. Lucy’s physical traits—it raised questions. I thought it was better to know the truth now than to live with uncertainty. And I don’t know how much you trust Carly to just believe her word.”
Scott buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. “Shit.” He looked up at her, his eyes glistening with tears. “Why would Carly lie?”
Zoe squeezed his arm gently. “I’m not saying that she’s lying. But you’ve been through a lot and the last thing I want you to do is deal with this life-changing news without confirmation. Just talk to Carly and get a paternity test, okay?”
Scott stared at her for a long moment, before finally nodding. “You’re right.”
Scott’s lungs were burning. He stumbled out of the cab, his legs feeling like jelly, his blinks lazy. But his mind was as sharp asa tick. He wasn’t drunk—well, he wasn’tthatdrunk. The perks of being an alcoholic was that his tolerance was way higher. And despite what that they say, that was a skill that was never unlearned.
His hand gripped the railing as he climbed up the stairs and knocked on the door. His whiskey-infused breath cut through the cool night air. He swayed, his eyes catching sight of the dense woods across the street. Was Lucy lying in the woods somewhere? The air was choked with moisture and darkness. He was used to these kinds of nights. As a kid, he would hike into the woods at night and camp there.
It was Harborwood. No one expected to stumble upon dead bodies.
The door opened and Carly’s tear-stained face appeared. “Scott! Did you find her? Any news?”
The moment he saw her his anger flared. He barreled past her into the small, cluttered living room that was dimly lit.
“No more lies, Carly,” he growled.
She tightened her night-robe around her and took a step back. “You’re drunk again.”
“Don’t you dare judge me!”
“Hell, I will!” she hollered, surging ahead. Flaky and messy Carly was what he was used to. But this one was feral. Shadows danced on her face from the flickering fire. “Lucy is missing and you’re drinking at a bar? What’s wrong with you?”
“Is she mine?”
She gasped. “What?”
“Is she actually mine or is this one of your many lies?”
Her back pressed against the wall as she tried to compose herself. “No,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, as he paced around the room. It was like someone had torched him and filled him with poisonous gas. He just wanted to slice open his skinand crawl out of it. “Why the hell would you lie about that?” he suddenly shouted, making her flinch. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I thought you would take the case more seriously if you thought she was your daughter,” she whined. “I didn’t plan it. I’m so scared. So terrified. I can’t breathe.”
“Why would you think I wouldn’t take Lucy’s disappearance seriously?”
“Because two girls are dead, Scott! And I thought you could use some incentive to find the third one alive.”
Her words were a punch to his gut. It took the air out of him. Silence descended between them; the only sound was of the fire crackling. “You think I don’t know how to do my job?”
“That’s not what I meant?—”
“So you thought it was fair to put me through hell?—”
“I’m going through hell!” She beat her chest, her wild hair cascading down her shoulders. “Me. She’s my daughter!”
“And I thought she was mine too but you’re such a manipulative bitch!”
“I think you should leave,” she said, wringing her hands. “You’re drunk and I don’t feel comfortable?—”
