Page 35 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)

THIRTY-FOUR

Zoe was wading through the dark with flailing arms. Someone was calling out her name. The voice echoed, like it was coming from the end of a tunnel.

“Zoe! Do you see her?”

Panic surged through Zoe. She didn’t know where she was. The room was pitch black. Whenever she tried to memorize the layout based on the obstacles, they kept changing. A metallic smell hit her nostrils.

Blood.

Her heart rate skyrocketed. “Who is this?” she finally asked. And to her horror, the words made the darkness ripple like it was water. Something was amiss. She was stuck in a nightmare.

But who was the girl calling out to her?

“You have to see her! How do you not see her?” the girl whispered in her ear.

Zoe reeled back from the hot breath fanning her ear. Her back hit a wall, her breaths hot and sticky in her throat. Her hands blindly searched the wall for something—anything—a door, a window, a switch.

A switch. She flicked it.

The lights didn’t turn on. Not at first. And then a white rod on the ceiling began flickering.

The groan of the light hummed loudly in her ear.

On. Off. On. Off. She was afraid she might have a seizure.

She blinked through the lights that changed every second.

The room was empty, reminding her of a basement with no windows.

Off.

On.

Lily stood a few feet in front of her. The marks on her neck visible. Her face gaunt and pale. Dressed in the same clothes she was wearing when they found her.

A scream clawed up Zoe’s throat.

Off.

On.

Tara drew near as Lily disappeared. Her dark hair matted at the back. A more jagged bruising on her neck.

The lights went off again. This time they didn’t come back on. Instead the keening groan from the rod grew louder and louder, until Zoe was crouching, covering her ears. Then the same voice of a girl whispered in her ear.

“Emily!”

Zoe woke up with a jolt. Her head was resting against the cool surface of the table.

She adjusted her vision to the dancing dust particles before her eyes.

It was a name she hadn’t heard in a very long time.

A name she had forgotten and buried deep within inside her.

She hadn’t recognized the voice until she finally did.

“How long was I out for?” Zoe rubbed her eyes.

“Just an hour.” Aiden was sitting across from her, going through a thick file. “You looked beat so I didn’t wake you.”

She cracked her neck and stared at her laptop screen. “The motel mattress sucks. Haven’t slept a wink since I got here.”

“Now you get why I bought one.” He winked.

“You still working on that video?” Scott said, appearing from behind her.

“Yeah. FBI is stretched thin on this one, unfortunately, so I’m trying to learn this software. There has to be something here. I refuse to believe we got nothing from this.” Zoe let the irritation slip into her voice as she chewed on her fingernails.

Her phone buzzed. It was Simon.

S: Sorry our conversation got interrupted last time. How’s the case going?

Z: It would go better if IT weren’t blocked.

S: My hands are tied, Z. There’s a lot going on here.

Z: What happened?

S: Remember Bruce from counterterrorism? He was killed.

Panic flared inside Zoe’s chest. She wasn’t close to Bruce but Simon was. They trained together back in Quantico.

She stepped out of the room to call him, with Aiden’s watchful eye tracking her. Simon answered swiftly. “How are you doing?” she said.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know how to feel.” His voice was heavy but muddled around the edges. Hadn’t he slept?

“He had a family, right?”

“A wife and two kids.”

She hung her head low, her teeth chewing on her weathered lips. “Do we know what went down?”

“Not yet. We’ve opened an investigation. Damn, Z. Sometimes I wonder if any of this is even worth it. Dying for your country when the only people who remember you are your family.”

Family . The bonds that kept pieces of us strung together through the wear and tear of life. And Zoe had wronged her family—a promise made to her mother and that lifelong regret that festered inside her like an infected wound. A sharp thread of pain pulled through her as she thought of Rachel.

“It’s not fair. None of this fair,” he continued. “No one is going to know this man died for the greater good.”

“I’m sorry. Nothing is fair, Simon. Fairness is a man-made construct. And that’s why it’s up to us to dispense it.”

“Zoe Storm, the forever supporter of vigilante justice. Little Robin Hood.”

Her stomach whirred with butterflies. It was the nickname he had given her all those years ago when they used to spend their nights tangled up in each other.

She stayed on the phone with him for a few more minutes while he composed himself before letting him go. When she hung up, she clutched the phone in her hand.

Somewhere she knew why Simon had reached out to her . But she refused to let the thought coalesce. It made her feel icky, like she was doing something wrong.

“What are you guys looking at?” Zoe asked, as she went back into the room.

“Trying to find a connection between Lily and Regina. Travis is working on filing a court order to get more access to Regina’s finances. If her campaign is in financial trouble, then that strengthens our case.” Scott sighed.

“But there’s still a question mark hanging over Lily.”

“Yeah.” His face dropped. “The coroner sent us Tara’s autopsy report.” The door to Zoe’s makeshift office pushed open with a creak and Terri popped her head in. “Logan Bennett is here.”

“What is he doing here?” Zoe asked.

“I called him.” Scott closed the file with a thud. “I figured I’d have another go at him now that we know about that bribe money. Maybe he’ll spill something or know something about Lily.”

“That’s a good idea. Play your face card,” Zoe suggested.

He paused, standing up. “My face card?”

“I saw his face when you were attacked. He didn’t expect the violence. Seeing your face might make him feel more guilty.”

“She’s a got a point, boss,” Terri said. “Or you can scare him with that face.”

Scott shook his head and popped a Tylenol in his mouth.

Zoe busied herself with the autopsy reports that the coroner had sent.

The cause of death was listed as strangulation just like Lily.

Her blood toxicology reports showed traces of chloroform.

The method was the same but the more Zoe studied the reports and pictures of the crime scene and Tara’s body, the more she detected an aberration.

Maybe it was her nightmare that brought forward the observation sitting in her subconscious mind.

Aiden cleared his throat. “So, what did Simon want to talk about?”

She didn’t miss the edge in his tone. “How did you know it was Simon?”

“A hunch.” He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the file in his lap.

“Bruce died. From counterterrorism. He’s taking it hard.”

Something flickered on Aiden’s face but he regained his composure and went back to the file.

“The marks on Tara’s neck weren’t as clean as Lily’s.

There were multiple areas of bruising on the neck as if the rope was repositioned and adjusted repeatedly.

The overall pattern of the ligature marks followed an uneven path—the impressions overlapped and fluctuated between deeper and lighter,” Zoe said, changing the subject.

“Maybe you are right. There are two killers. One is better at strangling than the other.”

“Or the killer hesitated. After killing Lily in such a seamless fashion, why would strangling Tara be any harder for him? She had chloroform in her system, so she wouldn’t have been able to struggle.

Was it possible that killing another girl was beginning to take its toll on him?

In his twisted mind, he didn’t want to do this. ”

Another possibility came to her. “What if the killer knew Tara? What if he had a personal connection with her?”

Suddenly a loud voice punctured her thoughts. Followed by a gut-wrenching wailing.

Alarmed, she exited the room and hurried down the corridor into the main area where most of the desks, including the reception area, were.

A couple of uniformed officers were standing around a hysterical woman, trying to placate her.

She wore a green dress that was a little too tight, stilettos with straps that looked uncomfortable, and a large tote that was falling apart.

Tears gushed down her cheeks, leaving mascara trails.

“Oh my God! Please do something!” she cried, clutching her unkempt red hair.

Zoe chalked it up to the woman being strung out. But before she could ask why no one was escorting her out of the station, the woman started howling and gasping, as if struggling to breathe.

“Where’s Scott? I want Scott!” Her desperate eyes searched for him. “Scott!” she screamed. “Scott!”

The door to the interrogation room flung open and Scott came out, frowning. But when he saw the woman, he stopped in his tracks.

The woman rushed into his arms and sunk down to the floor. “She’s gone! My Lucy is gone! He took Lucy!”