Page 25 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)

TWENTY-FOUR

The next morning Zoe pushed open the door to the small café, the warm scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries washing over her as she stepped inside.

The place was cozy, with a few patrons scattered around the tables, quietly sipping their drinks or typing away on laptops.

Even the cafés were glum. She missed the big city buzz that trickled into the smallest and most unassuming nooks and crannies.

In Harborwood, it was the ocean breeze that penetrated everything.

Out the window, she saw a ship half cloaked in the fog in the distance.

She couldn’t tell if it was moving closer or further away.

When it was her turn, Zoe ordered a strawberry milkshake, one of her favorites. As the barista prepared her drink, she glanced around the café. That’s when she saw him.

Keith was sitting at a corner table, half hidden behind a large newspaper. His shoulders tensed the moment their eyes met, and he tried to sink lower in his seat, the newspaper rising like a flimsy shield between them. Zoe couldn’t help the small, amused smile that tugged at her lips.

It was his lucky day that she didn’t have time to harass him, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easily.

When her milkshake was ready, Zoe picked it up and turned back to the counter.

“One more, please,” she said to the barista, looking at Keith over her shoulder.

He peeked over the edge of the paper, clearly exasperated.

The second milkshake was quickly made, and Zoe took both drinks over to Keith’s table.

Keith stiffened, the newspaper crinkling as he tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed her. But Zoe wasn’t fooled. She walked up to his table and set the second milkshake down in front of him without a word.

Keith slowly lowered the newspaper, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at her. He said nothing and just watched as she turned to leave, his gaze burning into her back as she made her way to the door.

It was Rachel who had loved milkshakes. Zoe hoped that Keith remembered that about her and would unravel whatever secret he was holding.

To Zoe’s irritation, she and Aiden carpooled to the station together.

She had managed to squeeze a moment of privacy to get coffee, but the car ride had been agonizingly quiet.

So quiet that at one point she had to hum to pretend she didn’t notice Aiden stealing glances at her.

The station reminded her of a beehive. Unlike her first impression, where everyone moved around lost and asynchronized, there was an efficiency and urgency plugged into their movements.

They weren’t dealing with the first missing girl in Harborwood anymore—it was a string of kidnappings. She headed straight for the old coffee machine when she realized to her dismay that it was out of order. She had been hoping more sugar would help her think.

“There you are!” She hopped to Scott as he rounded a corner. “Do you know any industrial site that would have devil’s club growing nearby?”

He blew out a breath, the wheels churning behind his shifty eyes.

“Let’s pull up a map.” He went to his desk and rummaged through the stacks of rolled paper.

Scott’s desk was devoid of any personal memorabilia.

No pictures, no trophies, no handmade craft.

Even her desk back at the FBI field office had drawings her nephews had done for her.

He unrolled one of the maps of the area.

“Isn’t this information computerized? Some software that could help us narrow it down?” Zoe asked.

He looked at her flatly. “We don’t even have enough cell towers in the National Park, Zoe.”

“Yeah.” She frowned at the map of Harborwood.

A slice of land, mostly crowded with green spaces, and ocean on the other side.

“Okay, so devil’s club is common enough in Harborwood.

According to the rangers, these are the best known spots.

” He uncapped a marker and drew disjointed circles in three areas.

“Are these the only ones?”

“Well, no. If someone is planting them randomly in their backyard or stray ones pop in the woods then there’s no way of knowing.”

Zoe scratched her head. This is why she didn’t like the woods. A city, she could map. She could know what happened in every building, on every floor. But the woods were elusive, guarding secrets, and unfortunately, too vast in Washington.

“Okay, according to the analysis of the shoe print by the CSU, there were significant deposits of limestone and rust. So we are looking at an industrial site? An old one, I assume, based on the rust?”

“That’s a good start.” He flipped through some old records. “We got two potential places. Neither of them are close to where Lily was found.”

Zoe trudged through the thick underbrush, her boots sinking into the damp, moss-covered ground with each step.

The dense canopy overhead blotted out most of the light, casting long and hulking shadows like the day was speckled with nights.

She walked guardedly behind Scott, who seemed to be more comfortable with the dizzying woods.

The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves, and the only sound was the rustling of the trees and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

“This place used to be a manufacturing hub,” Scott said, his voice low as he ducked under a low-hanging branch.

“Back in the fifties, it was a factory that produced parts for ships—engine components, propellers, that sort of thing. But when the industry dried up, so did the factory. It’s been abandoned for decades, just left to rot out here. ”

Zoe nodded, her eyes scanning the trees ahead for any sign of movement. “You’d think someone would’ve torn it down by now. Or at least fenced it off.”

Scott shrugged. His gaze fixed on the faint outline of a building just visible through the trees. “Too expensive, I guess. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so no one bothered. Now it’s just a ghost of what it used to be—half-collapsed, rusting away.”

“I hope second time’s the charm.”

The old industrial site finally came into view.

The factory loomed ahead, a hulking mass of crumbling concrete and rusted metal, overgrown with vines and surrounded by dense forest. The windows were shattered, and the roof had partially caved in, leaving gaping holes that allowed the rain and elements to eat away at the remaining structure.

They moved cautiously—Zoe’s eyes sweeping the area for any signs of recent activity.

The ground was littered with debris—broken bricks, twisted metal, and remnants of old machinery.

They circled the building, their flashlights cutting through the gloom as they searched for any clue that might lead them to Tara.

“This place is a death trap,” Scott muttered, kicking aside a piece of rotted wood.

Zoe nodded, her senses on high alert. “It’s isolated, hidden… the perfect place if you don’t want to be found. I don’t see anyone.”

Just as she finished speaking, a faint noise reached her ears—a rustling in the bushes, too deliberate to be the wind. She whipped her head around, her flashlight beam catching the movement. A figure darted out from behind a rusted metal pipe and bolted into the woods.

“There!” Zoe shouted, already breaking into a sprint.

Scott was right behind her, their feet pounding against the uneven ground.

The man was fast, but Zoe was faster. She pushed herself harder, adrenaline surging through her veins as she closed the gap between them. The figure was ragged, his clothes dirty and torn, his hair matted.

“Stop!” Zoe called out, but the man only ran faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

She weaved through the trees, branches tearing at her face, the ground slick and treacherous underfoot.

Something caught her foot and she went crashing face down.

Her nose crushed against the mud. But Scott shot past her.

With one final burst of speed, he lunged forward, grabbing the man by the arm and yanking him to the ground.

They fell with a grunt, the man’s body twisting as he tried to scramble away, but Scott pinned him down. “Easy there.”

Zoe got up and realized she’d twisted her ankle—luckily she hadn’t sprained it.

“You okay?” Scott asked over his shoulder, his arm digging into the neck of the motionless man.

“Yeah…” She dusted off the mud on her jeans.

Scott turned him over. The man’s eyes were wild, darting between Zoe and Scott as he tried to catch his breath. “I wasn’t doing nothing!” he stammered, his voice shaky. “I just… I just crash there sometimes, okay? I don’t want no trouble!”

“What’s your name?” Zoe asked, slightly winded, kneeling beside him.

“Jimmy.”

Jimmy had blotchy skin and corroded, missing teeth. His head was splattered with bald spots and his arms were peppered with needle marks. A distinct foul smell emanated from him—meth and lack of shower combined.

“You crash there?” Zoe repeated, unconvinced.

“Yeah, I just spend the nights.”

“You’re lying. There was no sleeping bag or blanket or pillow or clothes or anything that would indicate that you spend the night here.”

He licked his lips, fear palpable on his face. “I don’t own anything!”

“So if I check you right now, I won’t find any drugs on you?” Scott raised his eyebrow.

Zoe studied his face. He looked desperate, scared—like a man who had been living on the edge for too long. “Jimmy, why don’t you answer our questions and maybe Detective Cohen over here won’t go through your pockets?”

Scott exchanged a glance with Zoe, his expression serious, but she just shrugged.

Jimmy hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I was here to make a drop.”

“What drop?”

“GHB.”

Scott frowned. “Gamma hydroxy-butyrate.”

Zoe recognized the drug. It could simulate unconsciousness, confusion or even seizures. “For whom?”

Jimmy hesitated again but Scott turned him around and pressed into his neck, he nodded desperately. “All right! All right! It’s just this kid, okay? I’ve been selling to her for over a year now. I meet her here.”

“We need a name, buddy,” Scott reminded him.

“Bella. Bella Baker.”

Dread washed over Zoe. It was Lily’s sister.