Page 1 of The Hanging Dolls

PROLOGUE

PAST

All Zoe saw was the motionless hand, hanging over the lip of the bathtub. A gold bracelet adorned the wrist.

And a broken, painted nail.

“Were you the one who found the body?” a balding man with a ruddy complexion asked, his voice devoid of any emotion, eyes glued to the notepad in his hands.

“Yes.”

The man frowned at the innocent voice. His eyes tracked to the girl with thick glasses and high ponytail, wearing denim overalls. His face softened. “What’s your name?”

She took a moment to reply. “Zoe.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen years old.”

“And who is that woman?” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder at the bathtub.

There was a crowd of people around the tub, and the sound of cameras clicking and people whispering did nothing to drown out the blaring silence in Zoe’s ears.

“My mother.”

The detective’s face fell. He ushered her outside the bathroom, closing the door behind them. He ran his hand overhis bald head, suddenly out of his element. Zoe figured he wasn’t used to dealing with children. Maybe confronting evil was easier than shattering innocence. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Rachel Sullivan.”

“Where’s your father?”

“I never knew him.” She shrugged.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. “Sorry, kid.” His eyes scanned the family room of the apartment; stuffed toys scattered around, a Tickle Me Elmo lay limply on the sofa. “There’s another kid in the house? Younger than you?”

“My little sister, Gina. She’s five years old and she’s on a playdate. I have to pick her up in an hour.”

“Is there anyone you can call? Grandparents? Aunts, uncles? Anyone?”

“No.”

He scratched the back of his ear and narrowed his eyes. Zoe knew he was probably wondering if there was something wrong with her or if she was in shock. It was a mix of both. Tears wouldn’t come—not yet anyway. She could feel them building behind her eyes, waiting to fall, in private.

But there was an energy crackling through her. A low vibration in the pit of her stomach. She crossed her arms and dug her nails into the palms of her skin.

“Are you okay to answer a few more questions?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay… how did you get into the apartment?”

“I have a spare key. I was just getting back from dropping off Gina. The door was locked, and when I got in, I didn’t see any sign of a struggle or anything different about the place. I knew Mom was supposed to be home. I was looking for her when I found her in the bathroom.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded, before composing himself. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your mother? A boyfriend? A colleague?”

“No.”

While the detective busied himself dispatching Child Protective Services, Zoe watched the scene in the bathroom unfold through the crack in the door. They were lifting her mother’s body out of the bathtub and placing her into the body bag. When she glimpsed her mother’s face, her throat closed, until she couldn’t breathe.