Page 88 of The Hanging Dolls
“Why didn’t you tell the police, Bella?” Zoe’s words came out sharper than she intended. “If you knew she was doing the same to your baby sister, why didn’t you call CPS?”
“Because she’s mymom!” she cried, her voice breaking. Tears welled up, and for a second, she looked like a little girl, lost and hurt. “I don’t expect you to understand. But just because I want to get away from her and I’m mad at herallthe time doesn’t mean I want to see her behind bars. I still love her. Even if she’s incapable of loving me back. Now please, leave me alone. I can’t help you.”
Zoe curled her hands into a tight fist. She had to alert CPS, even if Bella didn’t want the authorities involved. A message popped up on her phone and she exhaled a tense breath.
S: Here is that creep John Doe’s IP address and location.
The towering evergreens created a thick canopy that blocked out much of the weak morning light. Zoe led the way, her bootssinking slightly into the damp, moss-covered ground with each step. The cold, wet air clung to their skin, the scent of pine and earth heavy in the mist that hung between the trees.
The team followed closely behind, their movements silent and deliberate. Travis was next to her, his boots squelching in the muddy forest floor and cold drizzle slicking his hair to his forehead.
“We’re about twenty-five feet away.” Zoe checked her phone as they closed in on the red dot. “Do you know these woods?”
Travis was eagerly scanning the rain-soaked, dripping branches. “Not as well as the rangers do. But I’m surprised something is happening here. Must be a new operation.”
Zoe’s breath fogged in front of her as she scanned the terrain, her sharp eyes searching for any sign of movement. “We need to interview Carly again.”
His foot snapped a twig. “Why?”
“Scott found evidence of Munchausen by proxy.”
“Scott?” he snapped. “What the hell is he doing working on this case? Defying orders?”
“This was before he was suspended.” A white lie.
Travis narrowed his eyes but didn’t push.
The shed loomed out of the mist, a dark silhouette against the towering pines, barely visible through the tangle of branches and fog. It looked ordinary enough at first glance, the tangle of wires snaking from beneath the structure and the faint glow of monitors inside, leading to a small satellite dish perched precariously on the roof.
She motioned with a gloved hand, signaling a halt. The team froze, crouching low behind the cover of a fallen log. They were close now. Her sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, catching the faint glimmer of lights through a cracked window. She gestured with two fingers, pointing at the entrance, then flicked herhand in a circular motion, directing the team to spread out and surround the shed.
After a brief moment, she nodded, and they moved again, slipping through the trees like shadows, the morning mist swallowing them whole as they advanced toward their destination. They spread out, each member taking up their position around the structure. Zoe crept up to the window, the glass fogged and streaked with dirt, and peered inside. Three men were hunched over a cluster of computers, their faces lit by the eerie blue glow of multiple screens. The room was a mess of wires, keyboards, and blinking lights, wires sprawled across the floor like vines, connecting to various machines she couldn’t identify from her angle.
Her fingers tightened on her gun. No time to lose.
With a swift, powerful kick, she blasted the door open, splinters flying as the wood cracked under the impact. “Hands up! Now!” she barked, her voice cutting through the electronic hum like a whip. “Step away from the computers!”
For a fraction of a second, there was silence and stillness. And then the room exploded into chaos.
Before Zoe had time to register any faces, one of them withdrew a gun from his jacket and aimed it at her. A deafening shot rang out right next to her, striking the wiry man straight in the chest. He dropped to the floor.
Another man tried to climb out the window and make a run for it. Travis and the team converged on him and that’s when the third man, who was in the corner, lunged at Zoe with a snarl, his body a blur of motion. Zoe barely had time to react before he slammed into her, driving her back into the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she didn’t lose her grip. She twisted her body, throwing him off balance, and they crashed into a table, sending equipment clattering to the floor.
He came at her again, swinging wild punches, but she was faster. She ducked under his arm, landing a quick jab to his ribs, then followed up with an elbow to his jaw. He staggered, but only for a moment—then he was back, trying to grab her gun. They struggled, locked in a brutal grapple, muscles straining as they fought for control.
Zoe felt his hand close around her wrist, trying to twist the gun from her grip. She gritted her teeth, slamming her knee into his gut with all the force she could muster. He grunted, doubling over, and she seized the moment. With a fierce yank, she freed her arm and spun him around, slamming his face into the wall. He groaned, stunned, and she didn’t hesitate—she pinned him there, her gun pressed to the back of his head.
“Stay down!” she ordered, her voice ice-cold. He stopped struggling, breathing hard against the wall. “Gather up all the equipment!” she instructed the team.
With a harsh grip, she yanked his head back and looked at his face. Now that the adrenaline had receded, the familiar face triggered the recognition.
Sam Buster. One of Carly’s Johns.
FIFTY
Sam Buster already had a criminal record but nothing in his rap sheet was as disturbing as his current crime. The brute of a man was pumped full of steroids and fury because deep down he knew he was scum.
He’d been charged in the past with battery, assault with a deadly weapon, and resisting arrest. His violent outbursts had landed him in prison more than once—three years for aggravated assault, two years for illegal firearms possession, and a few shorter stints for parole violations. The charges stacked up over the years: domestic violence, disturbing the peace, even one count of witness intimidation that had mysteriously been dropped.
