Page 23 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)
TWENTY-TWO
“His name’s Phil Malone,” Scott read out from a file.
He stood with Zoe and Aiden just outside the interrogation room, the mirrored glass separating them from the man on the other side.
Phil Malone sat at the table, his fingers twitching nervously as they fiddled with his collar.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, his eyes darting around the sterile room like a trapped animal.
Zoe crossed her arms, her gaze locked on Phil. “A bank manager, right? Doesn’t exactly fit the profile we were expecting. What do you think, Aiden?”
“If I could detect psychopathy just by looking, I’d be charging a lot more for my services, Storm,” Aiden replied with a trace of humor. “Does he have any priors?”
Scott flipped through the pages. “Nope. Other than a couple of DUIs a few years back, he’s clean. No history of violence, no record of anything that would suggest he’s a danger to kids.”
Zoe frowned, her mind racing. “But he’s been watching the kids. Does he have a family?”
“Divorced,” Scott replied, his tone flat. “Wife left him about two years ago. She got full custody of their son. No visitation rights.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed as she watched Phil through the glass. The man was clearly scared, his hands trembling as he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. “So, what’s he doing hanging around an elementary school?”
Scott shrugged, a slight tension in his shoulders. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”
“He looks too nervous, so this should be easy. Unless this is an act in which case I’ll jump in. I can hang back here and observe,” Aiden said.
Zoe and Scott exchanged a look, before entering the interrogation room.
It was stark and utilitarian, designed to strip away any sense of comfort.
The walls were painted a dull, institutional gray, and the fluorescent lights above cast a harsh, almost clinical glow over everything.
A single metal table sat in the center of the room, its surface cold and uninviting, with two rigid chairs on either side.
Phil looked up sharply as the door opened, his eyes wide with fear. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as they took their seats across from him.
“I’m really sorry,” Phil blurted out, his voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I—I’ll stop going to the school, I swear.”
Zoe glared at the sweaty man, twitching uncontrollably across from her. His right hand had a noticeable tremor as he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and began dabbing his forehead with it. Instead of stuffing it back in his pocket, he kept dropping it on the floor.
He was too sloppy. And something told Zoe that the tremor in his hand didn’t stem from anxiety.
She leaned forward, her gaze steady, but her tone softened slightly. “Phil, we need to know why you’ve been hanging around the school. Who are you watching? And why?”
Phil hesitated, his hands wringing together on the table. He opened his mouth, closed it again. “My son… Caleb. I’m just… I’m just trying to see my kid.”
Scott and Zoe exchanged a glance, the pieces beginning to fall into place. Zoe remembered how quiet Caleb had been when Mona mentioned the man in the gray car. It was as if he had been hiding something, something that now seemed all too clear.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. They had just walked into a custody situation.
“Your son goes to Harborwood Elementary?” Zoe asked.
Phil nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. “My ex… she doesn’t let me see him. She got full custody after the divorce, and she cut me off. No visitation, nothing. I just… I just want to see my boy, make sure he’s okay.”
Scott leaned back in his chair, the tension releasing from him like a hiss. “So you’ve been driving by the school, just to catch a glimpse of him?”
Phil nodded again, his hands shaking as he wiped his face. “I know it’s wrong, I know. But it’s the only way I can see him. I just park there for a few minutes, watch him during recess. I don’t go near him. I don’t talk to him. I just… I just want to know he’s safe.”
Zoe’s mind flashed back to the way Caleb had sat quietly while Mona spoke, the way he hadn’t said a word about the man in the car. “Caleb knows, doesn’t he? He knows you’re there.”
Phil’s face crumpled, and he nodded, tears flowing freely now. “He saw me once, a few months back. I waved, and he… he smiled. But he never said anything. I don’t want to scare him. I just want to be close to him. Please, I’m begging you, don’t take that away from me.”
Was this the man Lily saw? “Do you know Lily?”
He frowned, confusion marring his face before recognition struck. “Lily Baker , you mean? The dead girl in the woods? What does that have to do with me?”
Zoe noticed the tremor in his hand. “Is that just a nervous tick?”
He hid his hand under the table and his lips flattened into a thin line. “Parkinson’s. My father had it too. Symptoms started around now.”
There were no hesitation marks on Lily’s skin. A tremble like that wouldn’t have led to those clean striations. Disappointment filled her to the brim. “You can leave for now. But stay away from that school, Mr. Malone. It makes children uncomfortable, you lurking around.”
“You don’t want to end up on a registry.” Scott’s smile was brittle.
Phil swallowed hard and nodded.
They left the room and Zoe almost felt bad for chasing him down and throwing him into her car. “Maybe I should buy him a milkshake.”
Scott’s lips twitched into a smile. “It was a good shot. But Lily might have been referring to another man.”
The rain came down in sheets, creating a murky backdrop for the gathering of reporters huddled under their umbrellas.
Regina stood before them, her raincoat pulled tight around her, droplets running off the brim of her hat as she faced the small group of media representatives.
The scene was bathed in hues of gray and black.
Regina fought the wave of moroseness that was threatening to pull her under.
Despite Harborwood being in the Pacific Northwest and being more used to clouds than sun, the town was still a place of comfort.
A town forged in old bonds and loyalties.
But now that briny ocean breeze had gotten too chilly, the lush leafiness had become a thick green maze and that mist was turning into smog.
She took a deep breath and her voice carried over the patter of rain.
“This morning, I stand before you with a heavy heart. Tara Bennett, one of our own, is missing. And just days ago, we found Lily Baker, a young girl who had her entire life ahead of her, dead. Harborwood was once a safe town, but today, it feels like anything but. Our children, our most vulnerable, are not safe.”
The reporters murmured among themselves, pens scratching across notepads, cameras flashing intermittently.
Regina continued, her tone sharpening. “And while our children are at risk, Mayor Hicks is more concerned with his political agenda than with the safety of our community. I have dedicated myself to making real changes. Just last year, I oversaw the construction of a new school for children with special needs—a place where every child can feel valued and safe.”
The rain intensified, but Regina’s voice remained steady.
Then, a reporter, a young woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward, her voice cutting through the sound of the storm.
“Regina, there are rumors circulating that the ground the school is built on isn’t stable.
Something about it being prone to erosion and unsuitable for heavy construction. Can you comment on that?”
Regina’s heart skipped a beat, her confidence wavering for just a moment.
No one had asked her that question before.
She rearranged the papers in her front of her fruitlessly.
She forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Those are just rumors, completely unfounded. The school was built with the utmost care and consideration for the safety of the children.”
The reporter didn’t seem entirely convinced, but Regina quickly shifted the focus back to the issue at hand.
“Right now, our priority is to find Tara and ensure the safety of all our children. That’s what we should be focusing on.
As mayor, the first item on my agenda would be to increase police funding in this town.
We have brave officers on our force, but they are held back by limited resources.
By expanding our police force and ensuring we can afford access to the latest technology and skilled consultants, we will make our town safe again . ”
As the cameras clicked and the questions continued, Regina wrapped up her statement and began to walk away from the group, her mind still reeling from the unexpected question. Away from the prying eyes and flashing lights, she grabbed Connor’s elbow, pulling him aside with a firm grip.
“What the hell was that about?” she hissed. “The question about the ground—where did that come from?”
Connor shrugged and was already thumbing his phone. “Hicks must have planted that question. It’s just opposition research—trying to make you look bad.”
Regina’s eyes narrowed, anger simmering beneath the surface. Connor was orchestrating her entire life. She was the candidate. If she won the election, she would be the mayor. Then why did it feel like she was living someone else’s life?
“I followed you the other night, Connor. I know where you went.”
Connor’s expression froze, his eyes widening slightly. He looked around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s to save our asses, Regina. Everything I’m doing is to make sure we stay on top of this. Trust me, it’s all part of the plan.”
Her grip on his arm tightened. “What do you mean? Is something going on that I’m not aware of?”
He released an exasperated breath. “We’re running low on cash.”
“ What ?”
“Yeah.” Despite his puffed chest and hands on his waist, he kept shifting on his heels. “We’ve been aggressive in our approach which has been good for our numbers?—”
She almost lunged at him, her blood frothing. “Where did the money go, Connor?”
“Advertisements are expensive.” He held his ground. “But it’s a necessity. That’s why I went over there. We need to cut our losses.”
“How bad is it?”
His expression was as hard as stone. “If we don’t trim the fat or find extra resources, we got a month.”
Regina’s stomach folded. The election was in six weeks. What was she going to do?