Page 17 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)

SIXTEEN

Regina gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white against the leather, as she drove through the winding streets of Harborwood.

The town felt oppressive today. The coastal mist clung to the air, blurring the edges of the tree-lined roads and shrouding the small houses in a gray, eerie veil.

It was as if the town itself was closing in on her.

Her thoughts swirled like the fog outside, thick and suffocating.

The election was looming closer, and with it, a relentless barrage of interviews, debates, and the constant need to present a perfect image.

Every word, every gesture was scrutinized, and she was suffocating under the pressure.

But it wasn’t just the election. Connor had made it clear that he intended to use Lily’s death to their advantage, a tactic that left a bitter taste in her mouth. And he had threatened her.

She could still hear his words, dripping with menace, as he threatened to go public with information that could ruin her if she didn’t fall in line. That sick bastard. She ground her jaw, imagining how good it would feel for her fist to meet his jaw.

Morality. It’s one lesson her father had tried to instill in her as his father had done before him.

The Warners came from a long line of public workers.

They all died with no money but with lots of integrity.

The two didn’t go hand in hand when working for the government.

She could feel her father’s disappointment—it followed her like a shadow.

How Regina had slipped. How she had gone against her principles. How he was maybe right to think that she just wasn’t strong enough.

She had canceled her afternoon appointment. Instead, she was following Connor.

The car’s engine hummed softly as she trailed him through the twisting roads of Harborwood.

The town’s familiar landmarks passed by in a blur—The Harborwood Diner, its neon sign flickering in the mist; the old library with its towering stone facade; and the docks, barely visible through the thickening fog.

But Regina’s focus was entirely on Connor’s car, a few car lengths ahead.

They left the main roads behind, turning onto a narrower, less traveled street. The houses here were older, more spread out, with large yards that bordered the thick woods. Regina’s heartbeat quickened as she realized they were heading toward the outskirts of town, a place she barely knew.

Connor’s car slowed, then turned into the driveway of a house set back from the road, partially obscured by tall, overgrown trees.

Regina eased her foot off the gas, stopping her car a good distance away, hidden behind a large oak tree.

She killed the engine, the sudden silence deafening in her ears.

She watched as Connor got out of his car, glancing around before striding up to the front door.

The house was nondescript, with peeling paint and a sagging porch that hinted at years of neglect.

Regina’s pulse raced as she leaned forward, trying to get a better view without revealing herself.

Connor knocked on the door, his movements confident, almost rehearsed. A few tense seconds passed before the door creaked open. Regina’s breath caught in her throat as a man stepped into view.

The shock hit her like a physical blow, her mind reeling.

“What the hell is Connor up to?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling as she watched the two men exchange words.

The man glanced around, his gaze sweeping the surroundings, and Regina slid down lower in her seat, her heart pounding in her chest. She watched, paralyzed by fear and confusion, as Connor and the man disappeared inside the house, the door closing behind them with a finality that made her shudder.

It was a face she recognized instantly, though she wished she didn’t. The man was someone she had hoped never to see again—someone tied to the darkest parts of her past, parts she had worked tirelessly to bury.

If Zoe was anything, it was adamant. She found a corner in Keith’s bar and got on her phone to check how to retrieve a list of kids registered in the school system in Harborwood.

There was another target—there had to be.

She knew killers like this one. Despite the pathetic apology in his note, he wanted attention.

The crime scene was staged. He liked drama.

Or he was making a statement.

She had applied for a court order to access that information. But it still hadn’t arrived. Damn it . She chewed on the pad of her thumb. Who knew how long it would take for him to take his next victim?

Stop me from stealing a star.

Her skin felt porous and raw, like she was slipping off a ledge.

She decided to work back through the initial reports.

Lily knew a man who had come to the park to say hi to her.

And kids talked. Girls told each other things.

Had Lily’s friends been interviewed? Restlessness brewed in her chest as she leafed through the reports.

“You don’t have to keep coming here, kid,” a gruff voice said, interrupting her thoughts. Her eyes tracked Keith standing with his arms folded. “Unless you’re here for today’s special.”

She looked at the arm where she had spotted a tattoo—a potential R. But with his arms crossed, she couldn’t make it out. “Sure, I’ll take a coffee.”

He pulled a face while she smiled. A few minutes later, he placed a coffee in front of her. As he turned to go, she said firmly, “I won’t stop, you know. Until you stop lying to me.”

His arms dropped to his side. “Why would I lie to you?”

“I don’t know. But unfortunately for you, I’m an FBI agent. It’s my job to spot liars.” The tattoo on his arm was visible now. A definitive R. “Who is R?” she asked.

Instinctively, he lowered his sleeve. “I had a wife. Ruth. She’s dead now. Anything else?”

“Tell me, do you usually cry for women you only knew for two weeks thirty years ago?” She tilted her head.

“I’m a sensitive guy.”

“You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “Kid, I’m sorry you feel like you need closure. But really… you can’t make up stuff that didn’t happen.”

She could make him. One sweep of her eyes and she already saw two violations of the health code. But the defiance in his eyes stemmed from pain and distrust. She was willing to give him one more chance. She was willing to do this the right way.

“I think I’ll have today’s special. What is it?”

He frowned, annoyed she’d changed the subject, but composed himself. “Chocolate fudge cake.”

An idea came to her. “Do you have truffles?”

He shook his head.

“Do you know where I can find any? Tahitian bean?”

“No… that’s some fancy shit. Only one bakery can afford that supplier. Seaside Sweets. If anyone has Tahitian bean variety, it’s them.”

Zoe was already on her feet, gathering her things and calling Scott. She fished for her wallet but Keith told her it was on him. She patted him on his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

“Great,” he mumbled under his breath. “Stubborn, just like her mother.”

The bell above the door chimed softly as Zoe and Scott stepped into the small bakery nestled on the corner of Harborwood’s main street.

The warm scent of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries assaulted her senses.

The bakery was quaint, with a rustic charm—wooden shelves lined with baskets of pastries, a glass display case filled with beautifully decorated cakes and cookies, and a chalkboard menu with the day’s specials written in looping script.

Behind the counter, a young woman with flour-dusted hands and a friendly smile looked up from arranging a tray of croissants. “Good morning! What can I get you?” she asked cheerfully.

Zoe exchanged a quick glance with Scott before stepping forward. “We’re here about your Tahitian vanilla bean truffles. We understand you sell them here?”

The woman’s smile faltered slightly, replaced by a hint of curiosity. “Oh, yes, we do. They’re one of our specialties—made with real Tahitian vanilla. We get the beans from a special supplier in Seattle.”

Scott nodded, his eyes scanning the display case, noticing the empty spot where the truffles should have been. “We need to know if anyone’s been trying to buy them lately,” he said.

The woman’s brow furrowed as she thought for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can give out that information?—”

Scott flashed his badge. “We’re from Harborwood PD.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh! You’re here about the theft! Finally! I called it in five days ago but with the young girl that went missing and then found dead, I thought you’d be busy.”

“What are you talking about?” Zoe said.

The woman hesitated, her gaze flicking between them.

“Well, about a week ago, we had a break-in. Someone stole a bunch of desserts, including some of the truffles. That’s why we are out of them until our next delivery, which is two weeks from now.

We thought it was just a homeless person looking for food.

We reported it, but honestly, we didn’t think much of it after that. ”

Zoe’s eyes narrowed, the pieces starting to fall into place. “A break-in?”

“Yeah,” the woman confirmed, nodding. “They didn’t take any money or valuables, just the desserts—truffles, cookies, croissants. We were a little shaken up, but we figured it was just someone desperate for food. Like I said, we reported it to the police, but they didn’t find much.”

Scott frowned, his mind already working through the implications. “How much was taken?”

“A few dozen of each, I think,” she replied, glancing back at the display case. “We had just restocked them that day. Whoever took them knew what they were looking for.”

Zoe exchanged another look with Scott, a silent understanding passing between them. This was no coincidence. “Do you have any security cameras?” she asked, her mind racing.

“Yes, but we only keep recordings for a week. Though, we did send a copy to the Harborwood PD. So you should have it… what is this about?”

“Thank you for your help. We might need to come back if we have any more questions,” Scott said.

“Of course,” she replied, a little less cheerfully.

As they turned to leave, Zoe stopped at the door and turned back to the woman. “If anything else comes to mind, anything at all, please let us know.”

As they stepped outside, the chilly air hitting them, Zoe turned to Scott. “Did you not hear about this break-in? It’s a small department.”

“I’ve been focused on Lily’s abduction. Travis assigned all low-priority cases to patrol.”

“This can’t be a coincidence. You know this town better than me.”

“It’s not.” His tie whipped in the wind like it was trying to get away from him. “But we can head to the station and see if there was anything in that surveillance. It must have been logged.”

“Why didn’t anyone follow up on that?”

“Probably because of Lily. All cases were put on a backburner and resources directed at her.”

“But now we might have the footage of the killer. And this could all come to an end.”