Doll House – Lene Wiig story
Lena Wiig adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag, the leather digging slightly into the curve of her neck, a persistent reminder of the weight she currently carried. The navy blue suit, usually a source of professional armor, felt stifling under the midday sun, the fabric clinging to her back with a stubborn, humid heat. She walked with a deliberate, silent rhythm, her flats making no sound against the disrepair of the blacktop. Cracks spiderwebbed across the pavement, filled with weeds and grit, but Lena’s eyes were fixed on the building ahead, her mind churning with the inefficiency of her colleagues. Detective Nolms had been sharp, his instincts razor-edged, until he wasn’t. A week ago, the momentum on the Doll House app investigation had simply evaporated. The rest of the precinct had followed Nolms’ lead …