Page 38 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)

THIRTY-SEVEN

Zoe leaned against the hood of her car, the early morning chill seeping through her jacket as she scrolled through her phone.

She had decided not to think about what almost happened yesterday.

How Aiden perhaps saw through her. If she pretended nothing happened, then maybe he’d forget all about it too.

A light mist clung to everything, beading on the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass. She could taste the salty tang of the ocean on her tongue. The sounds of the dock swaying with the tide and the gentle clatter of boats nudging each other in the harbor were becoming familiar.

She had gone back last night to assist Terri and the other officers canvass the neighbors and trace Lucy’s movements.

Lucy’s friend’s house was only two rows away from her home. It should have taken her five minutes to get back home. She had left at 4:30 p.m., which was still early in the day. But no one saw anything. How was that possible?

Once again Zoe was back in the neighborhood, walking the path from the friend’s house to Lucy’s house.

Did Lucy take a detour? There was only one street that led to her destination, and it weaved in between other homes.

It would be harder for Lucy to be abducted if she took this path.

In broad daylight when children were out playing, someone would have seen something.

Zoe spun round, scanning the neighborhood.

Did someone lure her into one of these homes?

And then her eyes caught sight of another path.

A longer, twisted path that faced the backyards of a few houses and a stagnant pond on the other.

She didn’t know where this path led to. She jogged along it—it was narrow with just enough space for one car to squeeze through.

The road vined into a curve that led to the path in between two houses—one of them Lucy’s.

Could Lucy have taken this way home?

Zoe’s eyes searched for any cameras but there were none. This dirt road could be accessed from the main street. Perhaps this is where Lucy was taken. Her phone rang. She hoped it was Scott but it was Terri.

“Hey, Terri. Have you heard from Scott?”

“Not yet, Agent Storm.” Terri sounded concerned. She had been working under Scott for over four years. “Though I’m calling because neighbors reported a man called Sam Buster causing a scene outside Carly’s house a few days ago. Yelling, threats, the whole nine yards.”

“Sam Buster. Who is he?”

“Carly said he’s a friend with a temper. Didn’t give me much. But I know where he works.”

“Great. Send me the address. Thanks.”

When she hung up, she frowned, her thumb hovering over Scott’s contact. She hesitated, knowing he was with Carly, but still thought she should update him.

Z: Sam Buster. Ring a bell? Neighbors say he caused a scene at Carly’s place. I’m checking him out now.

No response. Scott was likely still tied up with Carly. Zoe sighed, sliding her phone into her pocket, before getting into her car and driving to the bar Terri had mentioned. Her phone rang again.

She glanced at the car’s dashboard screen—it was an unknown number. She pressed the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

Silence.

“This is Zoe Storm. Hello?” she said again.

“T-this is Nancy.”

For a moment, Zoe’s mind went blank. “Nancy?”

“Yes, I know it’s unusual for me to call but… I’m concerned about Simon. He hasn’t been sleeping or eating or talking…”

“It must be Bruce’s death,” she replied, suddenly realizing who Nancy was. “He’s been distraught over it.”

There was a moment of silence but Zoe could feel the tension radiating through the phone. Her hands gripped the wheel.

“Right.” Nancy’s voice turned sharp and defensive. “Thanks, Zoe.”

Before Zoe could reply, Nancy hung up. Her cheeks flamed—had Simon not told Nancy about Bruce?

She pushed the thought aside. The morning was still gray and damp, the sun barely breaking through the cloud cover, casting everything in a dull, washed-out light.

Zoe spotted Sam Buster before she even reached the bar. He was leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was big, bald, and had the kind of sneer that made Zoe’s skin crawl. The kind of man who reveled in making others feel uncomfortable.

Zoe approached cautiously, her footsteps muffled by the damp pavement. “Sam Buster?”

He looked up, his eyes narrowing as he took her in. “Who’s asking?” he muttered, his voice rough and gravelly.

“Zoe Storm from the FBI. I’m here to ask you a few questions about the other day. You were seen outside Carly’s house, making a scene.”

Sam snorted, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “That little tease? Yeah, I was there. Had a few things to say to her. She deserved it. Let me guess? Bitch cried rape.”

Zoe’s stomach churned. “And what exactly were you so upset about?”

His grin widened, and he took a long drag on his cigarette before answering. “She owes me , that’s what. Told me she’d do more than just talk, if you know what I mean. I paid for more than what I got, and she backed out. Didn’t like that, so I let her know.”

Zoe’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm. “How long have you known her?”

“About two years.”

“You know Lucy, her daughter?” She watched his reaction closely. A sick smile spread on his ruddy face.

“Yeah, I know her. Sassy like her mother.” He took a puff and his eyes shone behind the smoke with a revolting glint. “Wonder if she’ll look as hot as her mom when she grows up.”

Zoe’s blood frothed as searing disgust slashed through her. She picked up a stray brick lying on the ground and dropped it on his foot.

“Ah!” His body folded in half, the cigarette falling out of his grasp as he held his foot. “You bitch! You little?—!”

Zoe twisted the collar of his jacket harshly and pulled his face closer.

She ignored his rancid breath in her face, relishing the sight of his red face and watery eyes, as he writhed in pain.

“Let me be blunt. I’m an FBI agent and you’re a loser who has to pay women to get laid.

Now tell me, without being gross, when was the last time you saw Lucy? ”

“A few days ago!”

“And where were you yesterday evening?”

Sam didn’t reply right away, locking his jaw in protest. His ego was too inflated so she twisted his ear, bending his body at an angle.

“At a job interview, if you must know. Got a job down at the scrapyard. You can check, but they’ll tell you the same. Today’s my last day here.”

“Don’t leave town.”

Sam watched her, his sneer never fading. “Why you so interested, huh? You Carly’s new watchdog?”

Lucy’s disappearance was still under wraps. Harborwood PD was on the lookout, bordering patrols, and looping in the rangers and WSP but the media was still in the dark. Zoe wondered how long that was going to last.

Zoe ignored the jab, letting go of his ear. “Just doing my job. I’ll be back if I find out you’re lying.”

She turned on her heel, eager to put some distance between herself and Sam Buster. He was still on the ground, nursing his foot. Maybe he had a hairline fracture. But she didn’t care. The creepy smile that had crossed his face when talking about Lucy told her everything she needed to know.

As she walked back to her car, the morning fog seemed to thicken, wrapping around her like a shroud. She was almost at the driver’s side door when she noticed a figure standing a few feet away, partially obscured by the mist.

Her heart skipped a beat as she reached for her phone, ready to call for backup if needed. As she closed the distance, she saw his face through the mist.

It was Keith.

“Hey, I didn’t see you there,” she said, slightly unnerved.

His face was grim, that steely resolve to not help her gone. “I thought you would look like her, but you don’t. I think it’s time we talked about your mother.”