Chapter 4
FOUR
Thump.
“Did you touch it?” Simon asked, standing next to her with his hands in his pocket.
Thump.
“No.”
Thump.
A small crowd had gathered around Zoe’s desk.
All eyes glued to the lock of hair and the note.
Zoe chewed on her painted nail as she tried to make sense of the contents of the envelope.
Her heart thumped in her chest slowly—too slowly.
It almost made her lightheaded. There was something very off about this and it wasn’t just the spine-tingling note or the bloodied hair.
“Why was it sent to her ?” she heard someone say behind her.
The words reverberated through Zoe like an electric current. That’s what was bothering her. Why her ?
“All right. Show’s over. Back to work. Now,” Simon snapped, shepherding the crowd away. “You, stay,” he said to one of the junior agents. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Bag this. It’s evidence. Get the lab to test the hair.”
Zoe continued to stare at the envelope as a gloved hand picked it up, scooped the contents back inside and took it away. Her eyes zoomed in on a dried fleck of blood that had come away from the hair and lay gleaming on the white desk. “Do you think it’s a prank?”
“Could be someone chopped off their hair,” Simon said. “Wouldn’t be the first time some asshole is trying to screw with us.”
“But what if it’s not some sick joke?” She looked up at Simon.
His face was grim. “In that case, we’re looking at someone dangerous. Sending a lock of hair and a riddle to the FBI… this is a game to them.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll check if there’s anyone called Annabelle missing in Seattle.”
He nodded. “Check at the state level.”
Three hours later, Zoe was hunched over her desk with her hands tangled in her curly hair. She had combed through all the databases from Washington State Identification System to the Washington State Patrol Missing and Unidentified Persons Unit. But no one named Annabelle had been reported missing.
Perhaps this was a sick joke. A deranged person with too much free time on their hands had decided to yank Zoe’s chain. But who? Who would do this? From the corner of her eye, she saw a colleague sipping on a hot chocolate. Her mouth flooded with saliva. Only sugar could help her think straight.
“Agent Storm!” Simon stuck his head out of his office and beckoned her over.
She took a steadying breath, got up, and walked to his office, closing the door behind her. “I couldn’t find anything. Did you?”
“I did.” He straightened his tie before sitting. “I made some calls to a few counties. Heard of Pineview Falls?”
“No, I’m from Chicago.” She glanced at the lush green view from Simon’s office and winced, muttering under her breath, “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“It’s in Lewis County. They didn’t file a report as Annabelle has been missing for less than twenty-four hours and no foul play was suspected.”
Damn it . “So this is real.”
Before Simon could reply, there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Zoe felt it first—a familiar woodsy scent and a looming, grating presence. And then his voice, which made her nerves sizzle.
“Storm.”
She sighed. “Simon, what is he doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too.” Dr. Aiden Wesley appeared at her side in his crisply tailored suit, gelled black hair that swooped over his head, and thick glasses concealing eyes that twinkled at her oddities.
“He’s the best profiler in the country,” Simon muttered. “And the only one who was available to take the case.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Zoe crossed her arms.
“Is there a problem?” Simon’s eyes bounced between them. “You worked well on the last case.”
“ I have no problem.” Aiden shrugged.
“Z?” Simon raised his eyebrows. “I mean… Agent Storm?”
From the corner of her eye, Zoe saw Aiden’s jaw clench and unclench at Simon’s slip.
After her long, deep undercover mission, Zoe had been dispatched to Aiden so that he could help her process her experience, unspool her thoughts, and decide whether she was fit to return to duty.
That was the first time Aiden had gotten dangerously close to what Zoe was hiding.
The second time was when they worked a case together and Aiden sensed that Simon had lingering feelings for Zoe—and she was aware of them.
“Fine by me.” She plastered on her best professional smile. “Is this our case though? What did the sheriff say?”
“Lisa Gray. She’s out of her depth on this one. It’s a small town and a small county. They’re more used to dealing with farm disputes and meth labs. Either way, this evidence was sent to us. This is our jurisdiction now.”
“To this office?” Aiden craned his head.
“To Zoe specifically,” Simon said.
Zoe felt Aiden’s curious gaze and wanted to wilt. If there was anyone who could unravel her meticulously crafted cheerful mood, it was Aiden Wesley.
“Hot chocolate?” Aiden offered Zoe a cup when she climbed into his car. She narrowed her eyes at it. “It’s not poisoned.”
“When did you get so funny?” She huffed and reluctantly accepted the hot chocolate.
Aiden’s car was exactly as she thought it would be—slick, well-proportioned, and spotless.
She scoured for some imperfection. A wrapper or a parking ticket or a coffee stain.
But the car looked and smelled brand-new.
It irked her. “I should get my car back in a week or so.”
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked as he backed out of the parking spot.
“Something about the gasket.”
“Blown head gasket, huh? Yeah, that’ll do it. Probably noticed white smoke coming out the exhaust or your engine temp spiking before it died.”
She frowned as they got on the I-5 South. “How the hell do you know that?”
“I fix up vintage cars in my spare time. 1969 Mustangs don’t exactly repair themselves.”
Zoe choked on the hot chocolate as the liquid snaked down the wrong pipe, unleashing a series of coughs that raked through her body.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She patted her chest and settled down. The thought of Aiden in a garage fixing cars made her head hurt. “Sorry, you just don’t look like someone who has hobbies.”
“What do you think I do on weekends?”
“Volunteer at mental asylums?” she said playfully.
The corner of his lips twitched but he didn’t reply.
Zoe rested her head against the cool window, watching the Seattle skyline being slowly swallowed by the low-hanging clouds.
The rain was sparse now, but the air still smelled of wet mud and exhaust. Wheels barreled through puddles, sending arcs of water spraying on the sides.
She stared into the streaks of green blurring past—Douglas firs and farmlands, which soon dissolved into gas stations and restaurants.
Her mind wandered to the letter—the threat, the game .
But every time she blinked, something else transpired in her mind.
Viktor Axenov. And the key to the safety deposit box that he’d stolen.
She checked her phone. She had been trying to get in touch with Keith—an old friend of her mother’s—who had given her the key and told her how Rachel had been afraid of someone powerful and was hiding something in that safety deposit box as leverage.
More than twenty years later, someone wanted that leverage .
“Are you thinking about that note?” Aiden’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.
She jerked and blinked. “Yeah… I… I don’t know what to think.”
“I don’t know yet either. What connection do you have to Pineview Falls?”
Zoe’s mind got stuck again. She and Aiden traded a glance. The question hung between them. Why had the note been sent to Zoe ?