Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Harrington Group just can’t seem to catch a break. As if the company wasn’t already drowning in rumors of a buyout, now it has a murder attached to its name.
Annabelle Stevens, a rising star in the company’s R&D, was found murdered, buried in the woods, and while police are keeping their lips sealed tighter than a CEO at an SEC hearing, the rumor mill has already begun to churn.
Stevens was ambitious, sharp, and, according to sources, knee-deep in the kind of company secrets that don’t make it into glossy press releases.
Was Annabelle simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was she another loose end in a company desperate to keep its skeletons in the closet?
Harrington Group has, of course, issued the standard-issue, legally sanitized statement—thoughts and prayers, deepest condolences, full cooperation with authorities, etc. , etc.
What really happened to Annabelle Stevens? Was it personal? Was it professional? Or, in the worst-case scenario for Harrington Group, was it both?
One thing’s for sure—this isn’t a story that’s going away anytime soon. Stay tuned.
The white sheet of paper in front of Zoe was the brightest thing at the station.
The walls, upholstery, curtains, and files were all brown.
Even the plants were turning brown from lack of sunlight.
She tipped her chin to look up at the low ceiling that was pressing down on her.
She felt like she was trapped in the 1970s.
Even the computer was ancient, with wires extending out of it like vines and pooling at her feet.
Adam’s latest article on Annabelle’s murder was on the screen.
His words echoed in her head. It was the most interesting event to have happened in Pineview Falls in a very long time.
Finally, something for people to talk about and Adam sounded like that hungry opportunist who was eager to give them fodder to sink their teeth into at the dinner table.
Her phone rang. It was Simon.
“Hey,” she answered with a sigh.
“Sorry, I was in a meeting,” he replied, the sound of phones trilling in the background. “Dealing with budget cuts again. Then these assholes will blame me for cutting corners in investigations. How’s everything over there?”
She peered out the small window with bars and caught a glimpse of the watery sun barely shining through the haze. “It’s a dull afternoon. This town looks abandoned even though I know it’s not.”
He laughed. “That’s just you hating anything that isn’t a city. Remember you driving all the way to DC to de-stress when we were at Quantico?”
“They have good bakeries.”
“Tell me about it. That bakery on Wisconsin Avenue stayed in business because of me, all the times I got you croissants.”
Zoe smiled, remembering those lazy, tender mornings when Simon would arrive with her favorite treats. Then she caught herself. He might be separated but technically he was still married. Was she even interested in him now? “Did you manage to get anything from that envelope and the hair?”
His tone sharpened. “Nothing yet. But I’ve asked forensics to take a closer look since there were no prints. Do you have any suspects?”
“Not yet. I’m worried that we have another woman missing—Jackie Fink.”
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “Have you received another letter?”
“No. Not yet.” She saw Aiden heading toward her, carrying a coffee tray. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Take care, Z.”
His tenderness made her pause before she hung up.
Aiden fell onto the seat across from her and pushed a coffee toward her.
His eyes landed on the piece of paper and narrowed with a twinkle.
Zoe looked down and her throat closed. She had been mindlessly scrawling the name Emily on it.
She screwed up the paper and tossed it away.
“Did you read Adam’s article?” Zoe changed the unspoken subject.
“I did.” He stroked his jaw. “He loves blood in water—anything that smells like a headline.”
“Do you think he’s forcing the connection with Harrington Group? Jackie has no connection with the company.”
“He’s a fabulist. Either way, Ethan told me that the court order for Annabelle’s work laptop should come through today.”
“Why do you think that lock of hair was sent to me if it isn’t Annabelle’s?” she asked.
A realization crossed Aiden’s face. “Get the hair tested for Jackie’s DNA. She has straight, dark hair.”
“Jackie’s? But the poem that came with it led us to Annabelle’s body in the woods.”
“What was sent to you might have been a clue to two victims, Storm.”
Pangs of unease spread through her. How far would this go? Was Jackie already dead after being tortured like Annabelle?
“This is interesting,” Aiden said, reading a report.
“What’s that?”
“The neighbors reported hearing shouting and loud voices two days before she went missing.” He read aloud. “They didn’t see who it was but there was a red Prius parked outside.”
Zoe was on the computer, looking up Annabelle’s and Trevor’s cars. “Did they call the cops?”
“Before they thought about it, the car left. What car do the Stevens have?” He tipped his chin.
“Neither of them has a Prius registered to them,” she said, disappointed.
A sharp knock on the door startled her.
Adam poked his head into the room, his unruly hair all spiky, wearing a beige suit with a red tie falling too long. “Oh, don’t mind me. Just here to ruin the mood.”
“Why are you here, Adam?” Zoe asked.
“I enjoy the art of conversation and this place happens to be my favorite canvas.” His eyes darted around the room like he was hunting another story.
Zoe had met people like Adam before. People like him were anarchists deep down.
They were desperate for something to shock or unsettle them.
The messier, the better. And in this depraved town, Adam had found the perfect supply.
“There is an empty holding cell here if you want to sit down and chat properly,” Zoe joked.
He smirked. “You can dismiss me all you want, Agent Storm, but you won’t be able to solve this case without me. I’m resourceful.”
“Aiden?” Zoe feigned puzzlement. “Is resourceful a synonym for opportunist?”
“I’m doing this town a service by giving them something to talk about. How much longer can we ride the coattails of the big fire?”
Zoe and Aiden exchanged a quick glance. Pineview Falls Big Fire was written in bold all over the back wall of Jackie’s closet. When Zoe had asked Lisa about it, she had brushed it off, saying it had happened almost thirty years ago.
Aiden got to the point. “What is this event that everyone keeps talking about?”
Adam’s eyes nearly popped out of his head he was so excited. “You don’t know?”
When they shrugged and shook their heads, Adam pulled out a chair, his cocky demeanor shifting to conspiratorial.
“You’re in for a treat. There is an annual carnival that takes place on Founder’s Day in November.
One of the attractions is a haunted house called Fun House.
It wasn’t the most popular attraction but proved very popular with teenagers.
Thirty years ago, something happened. Something terrible.
” A dramatic pause. “The controls in Fun House failed. It was a mechanical failure. A chain reaction that led to props misfiring, exposed wires, overloaded sound system, malfunctioning trapdoor, uncontrolled animatronics, including total blackout , you name it. Imagine being trapped in a house like that, running around blindly with sounds loud enough to make you go deaf, tripping over your own feet. No one could hear their screams because of the carnival outside.” He weaved a disturbing picture that seemed to delight him.
“And the final straw was the fire. A short circuit in the lighting sparked a fire and six teenagers died from smoke inhalation. The biggest tragedy of that has haunted Pineview Falls for decades… until this latest tragedy of a murdered woman, and from what the deputies are talking about outside, another woman has gone missing.”
Zoe’s pulse quickened as she pondered Adam’s words.
It was like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that didn’t quite fit.
The Pineview Falls Fire was the biggest historic event in this town.
Now that she replayed the last three days in this bleak, haunting town—it existed all around her in the form of a weight in the air that never quiet lifted.
Jackie Fink had an unhealthy obsession with the incident. Did the big fire have anything to do with Annabelle’s death?