Page 12 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)
ELEVEN
Zoe watched Aiden climb out of his sedan.
After days of thick moisture choking the air, the sun was finally blazing in the sky.
But still Zoe felt a chill clinging to her skin like gum.
Aiden’s reflection mushroomed up and out in the glass of the cars lined along the street as he crossed the distance between them.
“Waiting for Scott?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Her voice croaked as she stifled a yawn.
“Didn’t sleep last night?”
“I don’t know about you, but that motel mattress sucks.”
“I ordered a new mattress.”
“ What ?” She gasped. “Who orders a new mattress, Aiden? Is the FBI paying for that?”
He shrugged, innocently. “I don’t know how long we’re here for. I’m paying out of my pocket. We do spend more than a third of our lives sleeping.” He retrieved a yogurt bar from his coat and handed it to her. “It’s got extra sugar and is strawberry flavored.”
She eyed it with suspicion before taking it. “Why?”
“It’s going to be a tough conversation.” He jutted his chin toward the house in front of them. The only one in the neighborhood that didn’t have Halloween decorations, and it still managed to be the spookiest one. A house that echoed deep sadness.
“So a new mattress.” The sight of the house had taken her last bit of breath so she changed the topic. “That’s weird, Aiden. Were you picked on in school? Or were you homeschooled?”
He chuckled, pushing his glasses up. “Homeschooled until middle school. You’ll be fine, Zoe. You’ve done this many times before. We can talk about it, if you’re struggling.”
“We can’t talk, Aiden. Because you hide behind control and I hide behind chaos.
” She flashed him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, while he stared at her with a mix of hurt and disapproval.
This wasn’t the first time Aiden had tried talking to her in an attempt to peel away the layers to understand what lay underneath.
Zoe felt a flare of anger. “Listen, I don’t need to be here.”
“Actually, you do.” Aiden sighed and stood up, sauntering over to a sleek table to pour himself a coffee. “Your boss mandated this.”
Zoe curled her hands into fists under her thighs. The desperation to crack a joke or roll her eyes or scurry away to find more sugar rose inside her. “Simon? Why would Simon think I need an evaluation?”
He shrugged, bringing the cup to his lips. Every movement he made was so measured, every word that came out of his mouth deliberate. “Deep undercover missions leave wounds, Agent Storm. I’m the doctor who has to diagnose just how deep those scars run.”
“I’m different. I don’t bruise easily.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Baker, this is Special Agent Zoe Storm and Dr. Aiden Wesley from the FBI. They are consulting on the case,” Scott said in a gentle, rehearsed voice.
Zoe sat next to him on the faint pink couch in a living room cluttered with cat figurines.
The walls were painted a soft, faded yellow, their surfaces almost entirely covered with framed photographs of Lily right from the time she was a newborn in the hospital to her seventh birthday party.
With a sinking feeling, Zoe realized that that’s where the pictures would stop.
The cat figurines were everywhere—lined up on the mantel above the brick fireplace, perched on the windowsills, and arranged in neat rows on the shelves that flanked the room.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Zoe mumbled. She hated saying those words because she knew they weren’t really listening. They were just empty words that washed over them like water.
Tim and Mary Baker sat across the sturdy coffee table.
Their faces were identical—hanging low like their facial muscles had loosened all elasticity since they learned the news.
Their eyes stared into the distance, perhaps searching for Lily.
The clothes on their muscled bodies, from years of hard labor in the processing plant, looked musty and worn out.
Bella stood in a corner of the room with her arms crossed and slender body slightly curved into the wall. Her face was hidden behind her dark hair, like she didn’t want to be there. From the corner of her eye, Zoe noticed Aiden watching Bella.
“We have some questions to ask you.” Scott rubbed his hands in front of him, excessively. “Were there any men or boys in Lily’s life?”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked, almost sleepily.
“Lily left Bella to go say hi to your boss who was driving by. But then she told him she had to go to some man who was calling her over.”
Mary’s face lifted and she blinked vehemently. “Man? What man?”
“That’s what we are asking. Was there any man she was in contact with? A teacher she mentioned, a neighbor who was extra friendly or an uncle who visited often…” Scott asked. “Can you think of?—?”
“No!” Mary cried, and looked at Bella. “What are they saying? Did you see anyone?”
“I didn’t,” Bella pleaded. “I swear. It was a regular day. I often take Lily to that park. I never noticed any pervert. Lily never mentioned any man to me.”
“You should have been more careful, Bella,” Mary said through gritted teeth. “Why did you look away? What have you done?”
“Now, now…” Tim said, making a half-hearted attempt to pacify her. Then she broke down and sobbed into his chest. He just sat stock-still, making no attempts to hold her or soothe her. “We didn’t notice anything like that.”
Bella was horrified. She looked at Mary somewhere between hope and yearning, as if waiting for words of comfort. Aiden opened his mouth but she ran into the hallway, banging a door closed behind her.
“She’s been taking it very badly,” Tim explained.
“Was Lily allergic to anything?” Zoe asked.
“Why?”
She didn’t have the stomach to tell him the killer had offered their daughter Claritin before killing her. “It’s relevant to our investigation.”
Mary continued to sob into his shoulder. His face tightened in irritation and he pushed her away sharply. But she didn’t seem to notice, instead burying her face in her hands.
Zoe and Aiden exchanged a glance. What was all that about?
“Devil’s club,” Tim answered. “We went camping last year and she got hives on her skin when she brushed against it.”
While Scott continued to tactfully gather more information, Zoe stared at her boots on the thick, slightly worn carpet with a floral pattern that had faded from years of use.
While Mary had folded her body in half, Tim was barely holding it together.
His patience was wearing thin. He wanted to be alone in his grief. Perhaps he wanted to mourn in silence.
“Mind if we see Lily’s bedroom?” Aiden asked.
Tim led them to the back of the house to Lily’s room—the door slightly ajar.
When Zoe entered the space, a chill coated her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms. There was a single bed against one wall, covered with a thin, slightly worn quilt featuring cartoon characters—Elsa from Frozen , Rapunzel, and Looney Tunes characters.
The bed sheet was plain and white and crumpled.
A shelf housed a few toys—dolls, puzzles, and a couple of board games—but they were almost untouched, gathering dust as if playtime had become less frequent.
Next to the toys was a small, neatly organized basket with medical supplies: bandages, ointments, and a few small bottles of over-the-counter medications.
Aiden picked up a cough syrup bottle sitting on the small nightstand and turned it over in his hand. Andy, Tim’s boss, had mentioned that Lily hadn’t been well a few days before she went missing.
“She hated that syrup.” Tim’s voice came from behind them. He stood at the doorway; his eyes haunted. “I would promise her that she could watch TV in return. Of course, Mary didn’t know that. She was strict about things.”
“I can see that.” Zoe looked pointedly at the basket of medicines. What an odd thing to keep in a child’s room. It was something Rachel kept in her room, but Zoe and Gina had had a very unusual upbringing.
“Did Lily fall sick often?” Aiden asked.
“Past two years, yeah. But Bella was the same. She grew out of it. Can I ask you something?” His eyes pinned them with a desperate look. For the first time, tears welled up in his eyes and the tip of his nose turned red. “Was she… was she in pain? Please be honest.”
There it was. That first uncorking of questions. It always started with shock and then melted into “Was she in pain?” . It didn’t take long for “Why would anyone do this?” to come.
Zoe picked up a stuffed animal from the bed. A gray elephant. She threw a glance at Aiden, who nodded at her. “No. He was gentle in his approach.”
Tim nodded, releasing a breath. “Have you worked on cases like this before?”
“Yes.” She kept stroking the soft toy.
“What do the parents do?” His voice was small.
Zoe didn’t usually hang around once her job was done. She caught the bad guy, put them behind bars, and moved on with her life. It wasn’t callousness; it was self-preservation. She took a choppy breath, afraid she might say the wrong thing to a weak man.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Baker. We can tell you the truth,” Aiden said. “We are also here to offer you support—I can put you in touch with resources.”
“Does the truth matter if it can’t bring my kid back?”
Truth was a double-edged sword. It didn’t offer any closure but the lack of it ravaged the mind. Festering lies was like a death by a million paper cuts, drawn out and never-ending. The truth killed you swiftly.
“Yes. The truth always matters. You’ll realize just how much if you have to live without it.”