Chapter 5
FIVE
As the car glided through Pineview Falls, Zoe shuddered involuntarily.
The town sat low in the valley with thick forests pressing down on both sides.
The trees reached up like skeletal fingers brushing the gray skies.
Fog clung to roads that were cracked and had been patched up too many times.
The buildings looked worn out, and the gas stations had neon lights that flickered too brightly.
A stagnant vibe hung over Pineview Falls.
It looked like a town stuck in the past. A town where every day was exactly the same. The only thing about it that was alive was the wind. It roared through the streets, whipping dried leaves and litter into the air.
“Have you been here before?” she asked Aiden, scrunching her nose in distaste. Something clung to this town. Something beyond the rotten fence posts and rusty doors.
It had a secret. They all did.
“Nope.” He killed the engine. They’d reached a low, bricked building with a faded sign indicating Lewis County Sheriff’s Office—Pineview Falls Substation. “We are meeting Lisa Gray here. She knows about the letter to you, right?”
“Simon sent over a scanned copy.” She spotted a sturdy woman in uniform standing next to a patrol SUV, its tires caked in dirt.
The woman was thick around the middle and towering in height.
Her dark, silky hair was tied in a loose ponytail; wisps flicked in her face that had dark, piercing eyes, an upturned nose, and a double chin. “There she is.”
As soon as Zoe opened the door, a gust of wind slammed it shut in her face.
She recoiled and pushed the door open again despite the mounting resistance.
It was the town’s way of telling her she wasn’t welcome.
But she was from Chicago—she was used to arctic cold wind scouring her face and nipping at her skin.
“Sheriff Gray?” Zoe flashed her badge. “Special Agent Zoe Storm. This is Dr. Aiden Wesley, a profiler with the bureau.”
“Nice to meet you.” Lisa’s eyes slid over them and beyond to Aiden’s shiny BMW.
Zoe knew the drill. They were the suits who had arrived in a small town where roots mattered more than ambition, where preservation mattered more than exploration.
While the rest of the world took flight and evolved, a small town took pride in staying staunchly in the past. Like holding on to an old heirloom no matter how useless and faded it got with time.
It was everything Zoe despised because it reminded her of what she was doing. She was still stuck in the past. Still trying to pry it open. Still refusing to let go.
“What do we know about Annabelle?” Zoe asked.
“Thirty-three-year-old with no priors. I just ran her through the system. She’s a scientist. An educated woman, making good money.
I made some initial inquiries today. She was last seen two days ago leaving work but never came home, according to the husband,” Lisa said.
“Oh, this is Ethan. He’s the deputy here. ”
A long-limbed man with a thick neck and a bushy mustache stepped forward and tipped his hat, extending his pudgy hand.
“Did you know Annabelle? It’s a small town,” Aiden said.
“Just by sight. Stayed out of trouble. She was bright.” He spoke in a monotone, the cords in his neck jutting out like cables. “Our kids go to the same day care, so we crossed paths.”
“She has a kid?” Zoe’s eyes widened.
Ethan pressed his lips in a hard line. “Two boys. A nine-month-old and an eleven-year-old.”
“A new mother doesn’t come home to her infant and husband, and her name isn’t entered in any missing person database?” she asked incredulously.
“Some wires got crossed.” Lisa avoided meeting her blazing eyes. “The report we received didn’t mention any kids, so we just followed procedure.”
“But you knew?” Aiden said, pointing at Ethan.
“I did but I figured she’s a new mom working a full-time job, she probably just wanted to blow off some steam. Catch a break. I know my wife and I wanted to when our first baby was born.”
Zoe grimaced at the callousness of his justification. But it wasn’t something she could deem unreasonable after years of coming across one bad day causing good people to spiral.
“This poem.” Lisa switched gears. “I’ve read it many times but I don’t know what it means. Her body could be anywhere. If there is a body.”
Once she begged, now she sleeps. Marrow blackens; flesh turns stone.
The words had jangled Zoe’s nerves. They swam in her head, making it bulky.
A small part of her still wanted to believe that this was a hoax.
Perhaps Annabelle was in on it. Maybe this was a ploy to get attention.
Maybe she was having problems with her husband.
Zoe had stumbled across all kinds of people with too many screws loose in their heads.
Aiden was studying the picture of the poem on his phone. His thick eyebrows dipped low and his forehead creased.
“What is it?” Zoe asked.
He shook his head. “There’s something here.”
“What?” Lisa’s interest piqued. The three of them leaned closer around Aiden as he focused on the poem.
Internally, Zoe reluctantly admitted that Aiden was actually very helpful.
The last thing his cockiness required was encouragement.
But she couldn’t have cracked the last case without him.
She also wouldn’t have felt naked and porous under his scrutinizing glare.
His words and his eyes were determined to pop open her jovial, happy facade.
To him, she was an anomaly, a thing of academic curiosity, an object to poke and study.
It would satiate the psychologist in him.
But it would force Zoe to something—or someone—she had locked away and stifled inside her.
Emily.
Aiden’s head snapped up. She could see a plan forming in his dark eyes. “Does the word ‘Wollemi’ mean anything to you?”
Lisa turned to Ethan. “Not to me. Ethan, you know this area better than I do. Ring a bell?”
“Yeah. It’s a tree. It’s not found naturally in this part of the state but a botanist imported a few and planted them many decades ago. Only one has survived. Why?”
“If you take the first letter of every sentence in the note, starting from the third line, it spells out W-O-L-L-E-M-I. This person wrote a long poem. He was saying a lot without really saying much. There has to be some clue here.”
Zoe nodded. “The poem insinuates she’s buried. Maybe under this tree. Can you take us there, Ethan?”
Zoe’s fingers and toes were cold as she plunged her way through the mossy trees dotting the squishy ground carpeted with pine needles and twigs.
The sky had bled into a shade somewhere between brown and underbelly black that tightened her stomach.
Cedars and firs stood like ancient guardians with gnarly roots that swelled above the ground like traps waiting to trip intruders.
It was nature growing uninhibited, untouched. The wilderness of Washington that enjoyed its isolation.
Zoe followed Ethan and Lisa, who were completely at ease in the woods. The beam from their flashlights swung haphazardly, illuminating the path. The wind had softened but the trees whispered and leaves rustled.
An owl hooted and Zoe jumped, bumping into Aiden. “Sorry.”
“Not a fan of the woods?” he guessed, hopping over a log strewn in their path.
“I like cities and buildings with bright lights and people. You can’t trust a place with more animals than humans—isn’t reliable.” She tried to squint through the growing darkness almost waiting for something to jump out at her.
“There it is!” Ethan pointed at a tree rising up between evergreens and maples, its bark fractured like reptile scales. Its stiff branches cast shadows on the ground. “The only one in the county.”
Zoe scanned the area around the tree. There was patch of disturbed soil, more speckled than the area around it. “Look.”
“Could just be an animal.” Lisa stepped forward and lightly brushed over the patch with her boot. A squeak escaped her throat and she sprang back. Ethan shone his flashlight at her feet.
Zoe’s face fell. The world changed—darkened and stilled.
A pale, waxy hand protruded from the soil.
The fingers were slightly curled and dirt was lodged under the intact nails, now crawling with small insects.
On one of the fingers, a diamond ring flanked with two sapphire gems glittered under the dirt.
The sour and sweet smell of decay flooded Zoe’s nostrils.
“I think we just found Annabelle,” Zoe whispered to Aiden who was silent and rigid next to her.
Lisa was already on the radio, calling for backup. But Zoe couldn’t stop staring at the hand sticking out of the shallow grave. It wasn’t a hoax after all. That lock of hair and that note addressed specifically to Zoe.
And then there was another sound. A sharp snap of the twigs, a wave of rustling leaves and receding steps. It wasn’t the wind.
Someone was in the woods with them.