Page 50 of The Hanging Dolls (Zoe Storm #1)

FORTY-NINE

Zoe leaned against the side of her car, her eyes fixed on the entrance of the high school. The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the parking lot. She tapped her foot, impatience gnawing at her, but she knew better than to rush this.

“Munchausen by proxy.” She popped a gum into her mouth. “Makes me shiver.”

Aiden stood next to her, dark circles lining his eyes.

The only blemish in his otherwise steely and spotless armor.

She relished to see he was human. “There are many reason for this illness. Lacking a stable identity, they find purpose through the victim’s fabricated illness.

Could be a need for validation and attention.

Or an anxious attachment style, where they subconsciously depend on that relationship to feel secure?—”

“How do you do this?” she snapped.

“Do what?”

“Talk about something so disturbing without feeling any emotions. This is disgusting. Parental love morphing into selfishness.”

He seemed to be taken aback by her words, his hands flinching around his coffee. “It’s a unique mental illness.”

“Don’t say illness . Illness takes away personal accountability,” she argued hotly. “It’s a crime.”

“It’s both. It being a crime doesn’t mean it isn’t an illness.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great. Everyone’s a damn victim. Including a parent poisoning their child. So Mary was abusing Lily and Carly was abusing Lucy?”

“Different root causes. Carly’s stems from avoidance of personal issues and neglect, and for Mary, I would say role fulfillment.”

“And what about Tara? What was your take on Logan?”

He was stumped. “I don’t know. Logan has severe anger issues… but it’s hard to box him into a category. I’ve filed a request to look into his background more.”

Evil manifested in the strangest forms and this one was the most ruthless one. Zoe wondered what ugly shapes love could take, how something powerful meant it was unstoppable.

Finally, the doors swung open, and students spilled out, laughing, talking, eager to leave the confines of school behind.

They spotted Bella almost immediately. She walked with a group, her dark hair falling carelessly over her shoulders, her expression a mix of boredom and defiance.

The kind of girl who wore her armor well, but Zoe could see the weight behind her eyes.

Bella noticed them too. Her eyes flickered with recognition, then annoyance, before she rolled them dramatically, signaling her disdain. She broke away from her friends, who threw curious glances at Zoe, and strolled over.

“What do you want?” Bella asked, her voice flat, as if she was already over this conversation before it even started.

Zoe didn’t flinch. She had dealt with tougher girls than Bella before. “I need to ask you something. About your mother.”

Bella raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “My mom? What about her?”

“Did she ever try to hurt you?” Zoe’s tone was steady, probing.

Bella snorted, playing dumb. “What are you talking about?”

Aiden stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Did she ever try to keep you sick? Give you medicines you didn’t need?”

For a moment, something flickered across Bella’s face, a crack in her armor, but she recovered quickly. Her expression hardened as she turned on her heel. “I’m done here.”

She started to walk away, her pace quick, but Zoe called out, “Bella, we found evidence.”

Bella froze mid-step. The wind picked up, tousling her hair. Slowly, she turned back around, her eyes wide, the defiance slipping away to reveal the raw fear. “What evidence?”

“Lily. Your mother was giving Lily medication she didn’t need, which is why she fell sick so often. It was damaging her kidneys.”

Bella’s lower lip jutted out. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m assuming she did that to you too when you were younger? Is that why she began neglecting you and turned her attention to Lily?” Aiden asked.

“I’m a horrible sister.” She shook her head, her face tortured.

“You can trust us,” he said.

“Trust you ?” she barked. “I can’t trust anyone.

I can’t trust my own mother. And Lily… when you found her dead, for a second I was relieved.

When you told me that she wasn’t… hurt in any other way, I thought it was a good thing she got away from our mother.

Because either our mother was going to inadvertently kill her, or she was going to end up damaged goods like me. ”

That’s where the false bravado stemmed from. Bella felt unsafe at home and unable to trust her mother, so she had to craft this harsh, insensitive armor to keep everyone at bay. But inside she was hollow. True strength came from love and not loneliness, Zoe thought.

“When did you realize what your mom was doing?” Zoe asked.

“When she started doing it to Lily. That’s when I started drawing parallels to how she used to do the same thing to me. And it all made sense.”

“Did you confront her about it?”

“I couldn’t.” Her chest deflated. “I can’t. I just… I know what she has, Agent Storm. I’m not stupid, I looked it up. But it’s just too much to talk about it. All I want to do is graduate high school and leave this town.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police, Bella?” Zoe’s words came out sharper than she intended. “If you knew she was doing the same to your baby sister, why didn’t you call CPS?”

“Because she’s my mom !” she cried, her voice breaking.

Tears welled up, and for a second, she looked like a little girl, lost and hurt.

“I don’t expect you to understand. But just because I want to get away from her and I’m mad at her all the time doesn’t mean I want to see her behind bars.

I still love her. Even if she’s incapable of loving me back.

Now please, leave me alone. I can’t help you. ”

Zoe curled her hands into a tight fist. She had to alert CPS, even if Bella didn’t want the authorities involved. A message popped up on her phone and she exhaled a tense breath.

S: Here is that creep John Doe’s IP address and location.

The towering evergreens created a thick canopy that blocked out much of the weak morning light.

Zoe led the way, her boots sinking slightly into the damp, moss-covered ground with each step.

The cold, wet air clung to their skin, the scent of pine and earth heavy in the mist that hung between the trees.

The team followed closely behind, their movements silent and deliberate. Travis was next to her, his boots squelching in the muddy forest floor and cold drizzle slicking his hair to his forehead.

“We’re about twenty-five feet away.” Zoe checked her phone as they closed in on the red dot. “Do you know these woods?”

Travis was eagerly scanning the rain-soaked, dripping branches. “Not as well as the rangers do. But I’m surprised something is happening here. Must be a new operation.”

Zoe’s breath fogged in front of her as she scanned the terrain, her sharp eyes searching for any sign of movement. “We need to interview Carly again.”

His foot snapped a twig. “Why?”

“Scott found evidence of Munchausen by proxy.”

“Scott?” he snapped. “What the hell is he doing working on this case? Defying orders?”

“This was before he was suspended.” A white lie.

Travis narrowed his eyes but didn’t push.

The shed loomed out of the mist, a dark silhouette against the towering pines, barely visible through the tangle of branches and fog.

It looked ordinary enough at first glance, the tangle of wires snaking from beneath the structure and the faint glow of monitors inside, leading to a small satellite dish perched precariously on the roof.

She motioned with a gloved hand, signaling a halt.

The team froze, crouching low behind the cover of a fallen log.

They were close now. Her sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, catching the faint glimmer of lights through a cracked window.

She gestured with two fingers, pointing at the entrance, then flicked her hand in a circular motion, directing the team to spread out and surround the shed.

After a brief moment, she nodded, and they moved again, slipping through the trees like shadows, the morning mist swallowing them whole as they advanced toward their destination.

They spread out, each member taking up their position around the structure.

Zoe crept up to the window, the glass fogged and streaked with dirt, and peered inside.

Three men were hunched over a cluster of computers, their faces lit by the eerie blue glow of multiple screens.

The room was a mess of wires, keyboards, and blinking lights, wires sprawled across the floor like vines, connecting to various machines she couldn’t identify from her angle.

Her fingers tightened on her gun. No time to lose.

With a swift, powerful kick, she blasted the door open, splinters flying as the wood cracked under the impact. “Hands up! Now!” she barked, her voice cutting through the electronic hum like a whip. “Step away from the computers!”

For a fraction of a second, there was silence and stillness. And then the room exploded into chaos.

Before Zoe had time to register any faces, one of them withdrew a gun from his jacket and aimed it at her. A deafening shot rang out right next to her, striking the wiry man straight in the chest. He dropped to the floor.

Another man tried to climb out the window and make a run for it.

Travis and the team converged on him and that’s when the third man, who was in the corner, lunged at Zoe with a snarl, his body a blur of motion.

Zoe barely had time to react before he slammed into her, driving her back into the wall.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she didn’t lose her grip.

She twisted her body, throwing him off balance, and they crashed into a table, sending equipment clattering to the floor.

He came at her again, swinging wild punches, but she was faster.

She ducked under his arm, landing a quick jab to his ribs, then followed up with an elbow to his jaw.

He staggered, but only for a moment—then he was back, trying to grab her gun.

They struggled, locked in a brutal grapple, muscles straining as they fought for control.

Zoe felt his hand close around her wrist, trying to twist the gun from her grip.

She gritted her teeth, slamming her knee into his gut with all the force she could muster.

He grunted, doubling over, and she seized the moment.

With a fierce yank, she freed her arm and spun him around, slamming his face into the wall.

He groaned, stunned, and she didn’t hesitate—she pinned him there, her gun pressed to the back of his head.

“Stay down!” she ordered, her voice ice-cold. He stopped struggling, breathing hard against the wall. “Gather up all the equipment!” she instructed the team.

With a harsh grip, she yanked his head back and looked at his face. Now that the adrenaline had receded, the familiar face triggered the recognition.

Sam Buster. One of Carly’s Johns.