Page 69 of Run for Her Life
But inside she wasn’t rooted in that feeling. She didn’t lie to herself. For someone who had lived almost a decade in witness protection during her formative years, she knew exactly who she was. But then why wasn’t she filled with joy and peace? She was only ever partially immersed in it.
There was only one emotion that penetrated her entire being and tethered every strand of her. A thread of darkness that sutured her together. A need for violence, a need for blood, a need forpain.
She took out her phone and scrolled to find Aiden’s phone number. Her thumb hovered over it. Confusion flared inside her. Was she actually thinking about calling him? For what? Business or personal advice? It was awkward enough that he’d caught her at the club and in a moment of weakness, she’d let her guard down. The very man who had tried to surgically extract information out of her during her psych evaluation.
She smacked her lips and put her phone away. There was a reason she’d come to this place. It was the perfect bar to find a douchebag. Someone who could use a lesson. Someone who deserved a dose of pain like she did.
“We now turn to the developing story of the string of murders at Pineview Falls, which now includes a missing thirty-three-year-old Amy Andrews,” a woman with a blonde bob announced from the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Luckily, Zoe had been sitting close enough to hear. A few other patrons turned their attention to the screen. “She was abducted from a gas station…” The screen flashed to the parking lot but there was a group of teens dancing and posing in the dark. The anchor’s voice floated over the disturbing scene. “Videos posted to TikTok show teenagers gathering at the location, using the scene as a backdrop for viral content…”
A group of teens performed a choreographed dance. One girl threw a peace sign and shouted to the camera, “Okay, so this is where that girl disappeared, like right here, and it’s sooo creepy but also iconic.”
Another boy turned to the camera. “We’re calling it GhostTok now. Come and get haunted at Pineview Falls!”
Zoe’s blood felt thicker, sludging through her veins. She couldn’t bear it anymore. What was the world coming to? She took a sip of her beer when she overheard two men ahead of her at the bar, watching the news and chatting. Pints in their hands and lazy grins on their wrinkled faces.
“You see that one? The blonde in the crop top?” he said, referring to one of the dancing TikTok girls. “Jesus. At a crime scene, no less. Bet that girl’s got OnlyFans at fifteen!”
His friend guffawed. “Time to get on that then. Look at her shake her ass. Practically begging for it.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining.” He grinned and they clinked their glasses.
Bile rose in Zoe’s throat as she watched them—two grown men easily in their fifties, sexualizing teenagers and laughing about it. Would she break their fingers one by one or would it feel better to repeatedly bash their heads against the bar? One required patience, a slow trickle of that anger, the second was diving in headfirst, pure liberation. She chewed on the idea as they paid the bill and grabbed their coats.
Her nerves twisted under her skin, a visceral sensation blooming inside her. This would solve it. She was going to go after them. She was going to beat them up, unleash the wrath on those who deserved it, and undo some of her bad karma on this planet. She slid a twenty-dollar bill on the table and hopped off the chair to follow them outside.
Stepping out, the cold air had sharp teeth, biting into her skin. Her breath fogged and the soft wind snaked its way down the collar of her jacket. She was orchestrating when to attack them, her body wired with energy, when her phone trilled.
“Damn it,” she muttered, sighing in exasperation. It was Simon.
S: Lab finished inspecting every inch of the letter sent to you. You might want to take a look.
All thoughts of starting a fight evaporated and she marched in the opposite direction from her almost victims, towardher own car, climbing inside. She opened and assessed the attachment.
Microscopic inspection of the envelope flap revealed non-uniform adhesive patterns. The inner glue layer was cracked and absorbed, which was typical of an envelope that had been opened once. The outer glue was viscous. This implied that the envelope was manually resealed after someone had tampered with it.
She frowned. Why would Jackie open the envelope again before mailing it to her?
The report said that the letter and envelope were mismatched. One was a standard white office stock while the other a premium brand. But that could easily be explained—maybe she just used whatever was lying around.
And then came the kicker. Adhesive label analysis under UV light revealed Zoe’s FBI address appeared slightly misaligned and showed raised corners, indicating it had been applied after the envelope was sealed. Under UV fluorescence, traces of the original ink from the previous label were partially visible beneath the current one.
Recovered fragments included:
Name: “J. GOL?—”
Address Number: “28—9”
ZIP Prefix: “94—04”
Zoe got to work. Frantically, she combed through the public database and cross-searched the address until she came across a match.
Her pulse quickened and her thoughts scrambled. Jeff Gold. The name didn’t ring any bells. A quick search told her it was a prosecutor.
So Jackie never sent Zoe the letter. She’d sent it to Jeff Gold. How did they know each other?
And more importantly, why did Jeff Gold forward the letter to Zoe?
FORTY-THREE
