Page 82 of The Hanging Dolls
“This is classic. So typical.” Scott fell to his knees. Suddenly everything was spinning. He’d thought that perhaps Zoe was mistaken, that Carly wouldn’t lie to him about something as important as this. But the shred of doubt wouldn’t leave him. “Why do you keep ruining my life?”
“You’re the one who keeps coming back,” she snapped, despite the tears forming in her eyes.
“Because I look at you and still see that girl I fell in love with back in senior year.” He sniffled. “All that shit you put me through for years with your jealousies, insecurities, and then your… infidelities!” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “With my boss of all people. Chief Travis, who I report to.”
“You dumped me, remember? You only come here to get some and use me. Why are you complaining, Scott? We both use each other.”
“Because it never feels enough.” His fingers clenched in tight fists. Anger fueled him. “No matter how much I hate you, it’s never enough. You knew what this case was doing to me. And then you decided to throw it in my face that I fathered a child I didn’t know about, a child who is missing, and then I find out youliedabout that too. You’re the devil.”
Carly stood up. Scott’s breath was heavy and rancid. His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and fixated on Carly, who backed into a corner, her hands trembling. The long, jagged scar ran down his face, still pink and healing. It twisted his features. He stared at her, and all the lies she had ever told bubbled in his mind.
All those years he’d spent working hard to make money for them, only for her to blow it all on drugs. All the times he’d heard from people in town that she was sleeping with other men and he ignored it, choosing to trust her. The number of people she’d forced him to cut out of his life because she wanted him for herself.
He’d forgiven her time and time again. But this time he snapped. This time Carly had stooped too low.
He lunged at her, the rage he had been holding back finally unleashed. His hand shot out, ready to strike, the scar on his face twisting as his mouth curled into a snarl.
Carly gasped, her instincts kicking in. She ducked, just in time, as his fist missed her by inches. Desperation took over, and her hand shot out, grabbing the lamp. Without thinking, she swung it with all her strength, the base crashing into the side of his head.
The sound was sickening—bone and metal colliding, followed by a sharp crack.
He swayed for a moment, then crumpled to the floor. His anger drained away and underneath the pain, there was the blood-curdling realization of what he’d done.
Had he actually attacked Carly?
Zoe watched her shadow stretch out in the moonlight as the hours went by. The thick forest surrounding the station cast deep shadows under the dim glow of streetlights. Inside, the station was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every creak and rustle seem amplified. She sat at her desk, the evidence files spread out in front of her, the harsh fluorescent light above buzzing faintly.
“Thank you, Agent Storm,” a young patrol officer said from her cubicle a few feet away from the desk Zoe had taken. “I love sunflowers!”
Zoe smiled at the bouquet of flowers she had ordered for the patrol officer. “You’re welcome, and congratulations!”
She’d overheard that the young woman had recently gotten engaged but wasn’t telling anyone about it at work because of the cases they were entangled in. But Zoe wouldn’t have survived these years ignoring the good things that happened—she knew bursts of good were sparse in life. Her heart ballooned as she watched the woman beam at the flowers. At least it was a fleeting moment of joy in this season of gloom in Harborwood.
Zoe went back to work, running her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face, eyes scanning the same report for what felt like the hundredth time. Next to her, the trash bin contained three empty plastic bags of candy. She made a mental note to hit the gym to offset all this sugar. Idly, she wondered ifdiabetes ran in the family. There was no way for her to be sure as she didn’t know who her father was.
Her current focus was the difference between the two crimes. The MO was the same. Girls propped against the tree trunks. The cause of death strangulation. Ropes hanging from the trees, the ends curled into nooses. A picture tied to one of the nooses with a note scribbled on the back.
But why was Lily’s handwritten and Tara’s printed? Something didn’t add up. Why change the method? She leaned back in her chair, the wheels squeaking as she did. Then there were the hesitation marks. They were prominent in Tara’s case but none were found in Lily’s. The toy too—Lily’s toy looked like it had been used but the toy left next to Tara looked brand-new.
There could be an explanation. Maybe killing was taking its toll. Maybe the killer had grown more attached to Tara during her captivity. Maybe he was afraid his handwriting might give him away. It could be a simple case of him learning to perfect his crimes.
But he’d left his DNA, albeit partial, on the ropes. That was a serious blunder.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. She grabbed it, only to feel a wave of disappointment wash over her. No updates from Simon. “Come on, Simon,” she muttered to herself, scrolling through their last messages.
“Did Simon get back to you?” Aiden asked, offering her coffee, which she accepted.
“Not yet. But he will.” She slurped on the hot liquid. “He was asking about you. You don’t give him updates?”
Aiden stiffened. “No… I figured you would.”
She blanched at his comment but decided to ignore it. “Anything from WSP or the sheriff’s office on Lucy?”
“Nothing. I believe she’s still in town considering how they have been patrolling the borders. Not a lot of missing kids in the area at the moment.”
Zoe scratched through all the information. What were they missing? “Lucy means… light. His note said when the darkness falls.”
Aiden was visibly irritated at their lack of progress. “Yeah, I don’t understand the connection between Lily, Tara, and now Lucy. They didn’t know each other—no common friends, or classes or babysitters or family. But there’s something there.”
