Page 12 of The Hanging Dolls

“So you think it’s fear of punishment that makes people do the right thing?”

“Why is hurting killers and drug peddlers the wrong thing?”

“So you believe in vigilante justice?”

Zoe could feel the irritation climbing up her skin like an itchy blanket. These sessions were going to be brutal. And Dr. Wesley had no idea what kind of justice Zoe believed in.

“Yes, I’m Batman,” she growled.

Aiden smirked.

The next morning, when Zoe arrived at Harborwood Police Station, she wasn’t sure if it was the right address. But the faded sign hanging above the door confirmed it.

The station’s entrance was flanked by two lantern-style lights, their soft glow barely penetrating the fog that often rolled in from the coast. A narrow gravel path led to the front steps. The scent of pine and damp earth hung in the air, mixing with the salty tang of the ocean. She carried a tray of coffee she’d bought from the local shop on the way. Too used to big buildings made of steel and glass, the sight before her was jarring.

A large wooden desk dominated the reception area, behind which a wall of outdated filing cabinets stood in neat rows, each drawer labeled with handwritten tags. The walls were paneled in knotty pine. A few framed photos of the town in its earlier days hung crookedly on the walls, alongside a faded map of the surrounding forest. A small cluster of desks occupied the center of the room, each one cluttered with papers, radio equipment, and personal items—mugs, photos, and old police memorabilia.

A narrow hallway led to the back, where the cells were located—two small holding rooms with thick metal bars. The back door opened out onto a small clearing in the forest, where the patrol cars were parked under a makeshift carport, their roofs often covered in a layer of pine needles.

“Special Agent Zoe Storm?” a voice said from behind her. A man with thick hair, a thick mustache, and a thick belly. “Travis Hunter.”

“Chief!” She did a little salute. “Coffee?” she said, holding out the tray.

He paused and blinked. “S-sure.” He took a cup. “Your partner is here already.”

Behind him, Aiden was leaning against a doorway, his ankles crossed and his face screaming boredom. When he saw her, his eyes twinkled and he waggled his fingers in a wave. She gave him a forced smile.

“How was your first day?”

“It wasgreat.” Then backtracked. “I mean… upsetting, of course. Which reminds me, where is Detective Cohen? I got something for him.”

“Let’s take this to my office.”

As they walked through the station, Zoe drew a lot of attention. Curious eyes, even hesitant ones, flocked to her. She smiled brightly and waved at them, introducing herself to some passing patrol officers. When they reached his office, Scott was already present, thumbing his phone.

“Good morning, Detective Cohen!” She held out a cup of coffee. “Two milks and no sugar, just how you like it.”

He stared at the cup before taking it. “How did you know?”

“I saw it scribbled on your empty coffee cup yesterday in the car.”

“Christ, you’re scary.”

“You have no idea,” she whispered under her breath.

“Based on my discussion with Dr. Wesley yesterday, we have started looking into any new arrivals or tourists,” Travis said. “You have something for us? Scott was telling me about the video.”

“I do. My tech guy got back to me early this morning. The license plate of the black car is registered to an Andy McMaster. Do you know him?”

Scott and Travis immediately locked eyes.

“Who is he?” Zoe said, intrigued.

“He works with Lily’s dad at the fish processing plant. He’s his supervisor,” Scott said.

“Did you interview him?” she asked.

He shook his head. “There was no reason to. His name didn’t come up when we talked to the parents and teachers.”