Page 29 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)

TWENTY-EIGHT

The car went over a bump, jolting Zoe out of her state of numbness. The streaming blur of green was easy to get lost in. She pulled at her seatbelt, which suddenly felt too tight on her chest. A feeling of impotence had gripped her.

Aiden turned on the AC and directed it at her.

“Thanks.” She scrutinized his face and how seemingly unaffected he was.

Always in deep thought, cutting and dissecting interactions, but at the same time so far removed from it.

No wonder she would sometimes forget he was there; he seemed to seamlessly blend into his surroundings. “I feel like shit, Aiden.”

“So do I, Storm,” he admitted in a small voice.

They shared a moment of understanding. “Do you have any theories?”

“A couple.”

“Like what?”

He took a sharp turn and the rising sun flicker-flashed through the trees overhead. “Something about his last message was off. It was too simple.”

“Simple? What makes you say that?”

“It wasn’t as lyrical as the first one. It was written more directly, lacking subtlety. The tone shifted from…” His face scrunched as he searched for the right words. “He sounds resigned now. Like he’s already given up.”

“Tara wasn’t held captive as long as Lily was. Do you think there’s been a shift in his psyche?”

He nodded, touching his glasses. “Something has changed. Perhaps the fact that he got away with two murders has led to a satiation effect, reducing the compulsive reinforcement he previously experienced. Although he didn’t perceive it as a game, the psychodynamic engagement with us—the cat-and-mouse interplay—has lost its intrinsic appeal. ”

“This case isn’t just changing us, it’s changing him too.”

They were one of the first to arrive at the station. Uniforms in night shift were packing up, ready to head home. They nodded at her, some smiled and made small talk.

They asked questions that she didn’t have the answers to. But she was determined to find out. Three ropes, three nooses. Two victims so far. A current rippled through her veins as she made her way to her little makeshift room, carrying a large whiteboard she had purchased at a local store.

And then they got to work. She jotted down names, forensic details, and lists of suspects and possibilities. Aiden started a linguistic analysis of the two messages—something about checking stylistic features and sentence structure.

The CSU had fast-tracked analysis of the note left at the scene. As expected—no fingerprints or DNA. Her phone vibrated. When she saw who it was, her stomach dropped.

Simon: IT is overloaded but I’m trying. I don’t like how we ended our conversation. Can we talk?

Zoe didn’t want to talk to him about anything other than work. It irritated her that he was digging up old feelings and triggering memories long forgotten.

“Sorry.” Scott shuffled into the room carrying a tray of coffee and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “I slept in.”

Zoe studied him with skepticism. He had slept in. His hair was ruffled, the suit he was wearing yesterday was now crinkled, shirt buttoned improperly, and there was a fading red spot under his collar. She hadn’t realized that he was seeing someone. She met Aiden’s eyes but they said nothing.

“That’s a nice perfume. I have it too,” she said casually, looking at the whiteboard.

Scott growled. “This is embarrassing.”

She ripped open the bag and grabbed a fistful of the candy. “Okay, so I called the coroner this morning. He’ll send his report this afternoon. Let’s look at our suspects.”

He exhaled and leaned against the table, next to her. “Okay, so we got Bella Baker. Could she fit the profile?”

“She’s a messed-up teenager on drugs with some deep-rooted parental issues,” Aiden said, sighing. “But she’s not a killer.”

“That would explain why Lily was cared for and well fed before she was killed.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “What if she has some split personality or psychosis type of issue?”

“There would have been signs both during the interrogation and from her medical history, and I checked…” Aiden said. “Plus, the shoe print you found outside Tara’s bedroom? Bella’s feet are much smaller.”

Zoe rubbed her temples. The connections were noodling with no starting point to entangle them. “We should look into Bella’s associates. Maybe she has a boyfriend.”

“I’ll ask uniform to follow up on that. What else do we got?” Scott asked.

“The problem is the connection between Lily and Tara.” Frustration clawed at her. “Lily is seven years old and Tara eight. They don’t have any mutual friends; their paths didn’t cross at school according to teachers and friends. Their families don’t know each other.”

“It is premeditated, but is our killer selecting girls randomly?”

She glanced at the two pictures pinned to the top of the whiteboard. They looked so different from each other—their skin and hair were different. “Usually, there’s a type. Something more than just prepubescent ages appealing to the killer. Something simple like hair color. Or even glasses.”

“Glasses?”

“The first case Aiden and I worked on was a killer who targeted people with bad eyesight.” She cracked her knuckles. “Remember that one?”

“He was popping eyeballs with ice picks,” Aiden said, his voice devoid of emotion. “There is something linking the two.”

“Did your tech guy get back to you with the video tape?” Scott asked.

“Not yet. I think I’m going to have to take a crack at it myself. Access the software and learn how to use it.” A thought was simmering inside Zoe’s mind. “Are the woods being searched?”

“As we speak.”

She marked the two spots where Lily’s and Tara’s bodies were found.

The locations were far from each other, at least a fifteen-minute drive.

And the woods were dense and removed from any trails.

Whoever the killer was, they carried their bodies deep into the woods.

Probably for privacy while they set up the stage.

“You’d almost think that this killer has some kind of experience,” Zoe said. “The murders are too cleanly orchestrated.”

“Every Tom, Dick, and Harry watching cop shows and accessing the Internet knows everything they need to know about this,” Aiden pointed out.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Terri, an officer, walked in and handed a report to Scott, muttering something in his ear before leaving.

Scott flicked through the pages, a frown marring his face.

“What is it?” Zoe asked.

“When Tara went missing, I asked to pull Logan Bennett’s financials like with the Bakers. You know, to check if he owed anyone any money.”

“Does he?” she asked hopefully.

“The opposite. He’s flush with cash. For the last three years, every month five grand is deposited into his bank account. But it’s not his salary.” He showed them the report.

It was a wire transfer from a company called Global Holdings Inc. “That’s a good chunk of money. Does he have a side hustle?”

“Nope. No sources of passive income. I looked up the company online but I can’t find anything on it.”

“It’s a generic name. Who are they and why are they paying him?” Zoe said.