Page 85 of The Hanging Dolls
FORTY-EIGHT
Zoe noticed Aiden’s socks when the hem of his pants rode up a little. Minions. She decided he officially had her seal of approval. Who would have thought that the seemingly uptight psychologist liked to wear socks with cartoon characters? And the last few days had told her that he wasn’t as bad.
“What’s your favorite book?” Zoe asked with a smile.
He looked up at her. “When did I become the patient?”
“Pfff, we are almost friends now.” She waved her hand dismissively.
His shoulders sagged, a bright smile sparking on his face. A rare sight. “Let me think. Okay, well, not a book, but a play—Hamlet.”
“That was… overbearing.” She scrunched her nose. “Why?”
“The madness, the insanity, the doubt whether it was psychosis or manipulation. One of the greatest literary puzzles. Your turn.”
Zoe didn’t have to think for long. “The Scarlet Letter.”
Something flickered across his face. His fingers holding the pen shook as his eyes did a calculation. “It’s an interesting study of how people approach redemptiondifferently. Why do you like it? Because the reverend seeks pain to deal with his guilt?”
Her breath stopped. “What?”
“Is that what draws you to the book? Is that something you do as well?”
A slap to the face. A whiplash that sucked all the oxygen from her lungs. How did he know?
The parking lot of the run-down motel was nearly empty, just a few scattered cars and a flickering neon sign casting a dim, sickly light over the cracked pavement. The air was thick with the dampness of the Pacific Northwest night, the scent of pine and rain lingering in the cool breeze. Zoe and Aiden parked in a spot near the back, the headlights cutting through the mist before she killed the engine.
He had been trying to question her about Benny and she was dodging him. But she was getting tired. This is why she didn’t like working with a partner.
“Is that Scott?” Aiden said, squinting.
Scott was leaning against his car, arms crossed, his silhouette tense under the motel’s faint lights. Her heart skittered.
“Scott, where the hell have you been?” she asked, stepping out of the car. “I left you messages.”
Scott pushed off his car and met her halfway, his movements agitated. The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he closed the distance between them. “I know, I’m sorry. For everything. But I found something.”
He wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be on this case at all, but there he was—riled up and impatient, the fire in his eyes unmistakable.
“You should be laying low. You’re off the case,” Aiden reminded him.
“I don’t care about that,” he shot back.
“You should!” Her eyes bulged. “Look, I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through this last week with the pressure from this case and your toxic ex but you’re out of control. I have to agree with Travis and Aiden?—”
“I found a connection between Lily and Lucy. I couldn’t just sit on it.”
He brandished his phone and Zoe and Aiden were hooked. The answer to that one question that had been evading them since the beginning—it finally cracked and the truth was bursting through it.
The motel’s sign buzzed faintly. “All right,” she said, caving in to the urgency in him. “Tell me what you’ve got.”
He didn’t waste any time and showed them the pictures of medicinal bottles on his phone. “This is diuretic found in Lily’s room.”
“You went to Lily’s place?” She was aghast. “You’re on suspension.”
He stared at her. “What’s important is that diuretic wasn’t prescribed to Lily. It was prescribed to Mary Ellen.”
Aiden frowned. “Mary? She left it in Lily’s room by accident?”
