Page 8 of Run for Her Life
“Did you know Annabelle? It’s a small town,” Aiden said.
“Just by sight. Stayed out of trouble. She was bright.” He spoke in a monotone, the cords in his neck jutting out like cables. “Our kids go to the same day care, so we crossed paths.”
“She has a kid?” Zoe’s eyes widened.
Ethan pressed his lips in a hard line. “Two boys. A nine-month-old and an eleven-year-old.”
“A new mother doesn’t come home to her infant and husband, and her name isn’t entered in any missing person database?” she asked incredulously.
“Some wires got crossed.” Lisa avoided meeting her blazing eyes. “The report we received didn’t mention any kids, so we just followed procedure.”
“Butyouknew?” Aiden said, pointing at Ethan.
“I did but I figured she’s a new mom working a full-time job, she probably just wanted to blow off some steam. Catch a break. I know my wife and I wanted to when our first baby was born.”
Zoe grimaced at the callousness of his justification. But it wasn’t something she could deem unreasonable after years of coming across one bad day causing good people to spiral.
“This poem.” Lisa switched gears. “I’ve read it many times but I don’t know what it means. Her body could be anywhere. If there is a body.”
Once she begged, now she sleeps. Marrow blackens; flesh turns stone.
The words had jangled Zoe’s nerves. They swam in her head, making it bulky. A small part of her still wanted to believe that this was a hoax. Perhaps Annabelle was in on it. Maybe this was a ploy to get attention. Maybe she was having problems with her husband. Zoe had stumbled across all kinds of people with too many screws loose in their heads.
Aiden was studying the picture of the poem on his phone. His thick eyebrows dipped low and his forehead creased.
“What is it?” Zoe asked.
He shook his head. “There’s something here.”
“What?” Lisa’s interest piqued. The three of them leaned closer around Aiden as he focused on the poem.
Internally, Zoe reluctantly admitted that Aiden was actually very helpful. The last thing his cockiness required was encouragement. But she couldn’t have cracked the last case without him. She also wouldn’t have felt naked and porous under his scrutinizing glare. His words and his eyes were determined to pop open her jovial, happy façade. To him, she was an anomaly, a thing of academic curiosity, an object to poke and study. It would satiate the psychologist in him. But it would force Zoe to something—or someone—she had locked away and stifled inside her.
Emily.
Aiden’s head snapped up. She could see a plan forming in his dark eyes. “Does the word ‘Wollemi’ mean anything to you?”
Lisa turned to Ethan. “Not to me. Ethan, you know this area better than I do. Ring a bell?”
“Yeah. It’s a tree. It’s not found naturally in this part of the state but a botanist imported a few and planted them many decades ago. Only one has survived. Why?”
“If you take the first letter of every sentence in the note, starting from the third line, it spells out W-O-L-L-E-M-I. This person wrote a long poem. He was saying a lot without really saying much. There has to be some clue here.”
Zoe nodded. “The poem insinuates she’s buried. Maybe under this tree. Can you take us there, Ethan?”
Zoe’s fingers and toes were cold as she plunged her way through the mossy trees dotting the squishy ground carpeted with pine needles and twigs. The sky had bled into a shade somewhere between brown and underbelly black that tightenedher stomach. Cedars and firs stood like ancient guardians with gnarly roots that swelled above the ground like traps waiting to trip intruders.
It was nature growing uninhibited, untouched. The wilderness of Washington that enjoyed its isolation.
Zoe followed Ethan and Lisa, who were completely at ease in the woods. The beam from their flashlights swung haphazardly, illuminating the path. The wind had softened but the trees whispered and leaves rustled.
An owl hooted and Zoe jumped, bumping into Aiden. “Sorry.”
“Not a fan of the woods?” he guessed, hopping over a log strewn in their path.
“I like cities and buildings with bright lights and people. You can’t trust a place with more animals than humans—isn’t reliable.” She tried to squint through the growing darkness almost waiting for something to jump out at her.
“There it is!” Ethan pointed at a tree rising up between evergreens and maples, its bark fractured like reptile scales. Its stiff branches cast shadows on the ground. “The only one in the county.”
