The Green-Eyed Doll

by Jerrie Alexander

  “I told Catherine you’d buy lunch before she went to work. Give you two a chance to meet.” He tried to remember if he’d warned her about Ash. He’d be all over her. Beautiful women were Ash’s favorite pastime.

  “It’s about time. Pick a place close to that drugstore across from your office. We never got around to asking about this JC guy. What did he buy? Or was he following your girlfriend around.”

  “Can’t do it. We’ll have to meet her in Butte Crest. We can hit the drugstore in Curry afterward.”

  “By the time I learn my way around, the case will be solved.”

  “God. I hope it’s soon.” Matt parked midway off the block across from where Annie had been found. “You start at one end. I’ll take the other. Maybe somebody noticed a car, pickup, anything out of the ordinary.”

  Matt headed to the auto parts store. If anybody inside had been watching Friday morning, they had the perfect vantage point. Matt hooked his badge on his belt and went inside. An older gentleman came from behind the counter with his hand extended.

  “No need for the ID, Sheriff. I recognized you right off.”

  Matt welcomed the man’s strong grasp. “Call me Matt.”

  “Avery Sanderson. But folks call me Sandy. What can I sell you?” He rocked back on his heels and peered over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “I’m not buying today. I read the deputy’s report, but hoped maybe you’d remembered something after he left.”

  “Can’t think of nothin’. I got here around eight-thirty. Unlocked the front door at nine. Most of the shops in this strip open at ten. Not me. If a man’s car breaks down, he wants the part before half the days gone.”

  “But you didn’t notice anyone around the park?”

  “Here’s the thing. I didn’t pay any attention. Wish to hell I had’ve.” Sandy pursed his lips and small wrinkles surrounded his mouth. His eyes closed slowly, and Matt could almost see the wheels turning. After a few seconds, Sandy’s eyes popped open. “Nope. Nothing comes to mind.”

  Matt chatted a few more minutes before he broke away and moved to the small health food store next door. He learned nothing helpful as he worked his way through the stores. He left the last shop with no news, no clues, nothing.

  Ash waited by the pickup, looking as disappointed as Matt felt.

  “I got zilch. Call that woman who keeps you up all night.” He snorted a laugh. “I’m hungry.”

  Matt raised an eyebrow and glared, but didn’t faze Ash. “You be nice around Catherine.” He got in the pickup, started it, and then called her while ignoring the curious look he was getting from Ash. They agreed to meet at the Dairy Dream in an hour. “We’ll have time for you to take a look around where Annie was last seen alive.”

  “Tell me more about your new honey.”

  “I’ve told you enough already. Suffice it to say, I’d appreciate you not slobbering all over her.”

  He stared at Matt for a second before a smile broke across his face. “I’ll be damned. You let this one get under your skin.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. He definitely hadn’t let her do any such thing. She was on his mind a lot. The way she responded to his touch, the way her eyes flared with excitement when he entered her, the way she laughed under her breath after she came—all of these things made her important to him. But there was more. They laughed together, and until she came along there hadn’t been much humor in his life.

  The parking lot at the Dairy Dream overflowed to the church parking lot next door. Was there no end to the thrill seekers? Half of the county must’ve taken a drive over to see where the dead woman had worked. Matt jerked his phone to his ear and changed lunch plans with Catherine. Pizza Stop on the square. Again.

  “You didn’t have your heart set on a burger, did you?” Matt said, heading to the highway.

  “I had my heart set on you answering my question.” Ash continued to dig for information. “Your silence tells me you’re in love.”

  “I don’t intend to dignify that with a response,” Matt said. “What’d you learn from your store visits?”

  “Nothing. Nobody paid any attention until the cruisers started showing up. However, I came up with a few thoughts and questions last night. You remember last night...while I was alone in my tiny apartment, and you were doing whatever you won’t tell me about.”

  Matt pulled into the parking lot across from the café and backed in, where he could watch for Catherine. He ignored Ash’s insinuation, figuring it was best not to egg him on. “I’m listening.”

  “The first woman went missing for three days, then she turned up dead. Over two weeks passed before he snatched the second. Why’d he wait?”

  “Then it was either a trial run or an accident.” Matt thought back to the two weeks between kidnappings. “The first kill might’ve been unintentional. He decided he liked it, missed the feeling, the thrill. He grabs a second woman, enjoys tormenting her for nine days before killing her.”

  Ash stared out the window, deep in thought. “Your scenario doesn’t compute.”

  “Then the kill isn’t what he’s drawn to. It’s all about the individual woman.” Matt was convinced a third woman would disappear soon.

  “He shopped around for two weeks until he found one he liked?”

  “Yeah,” Matt said.

  “Then we need to figure out what about these two women appealed to him.”

  “Speaking of appealing.” Matt pointed to the small blue Ford with its windows rolled down. He pulled into the lot, kept one eye on the red fire sparkling off the long wavy hair hanging around Catherine’s shoulders.

  “Oh. Hell. Yes. No wonder you didn’t want me to meet her.” Ash was out of the pickup and moving toward Catherine before she exited her car.

  Matt’s heart rate skyrocketed. The idea of Ash hitting on Catherine fired Matt’s blood like a gladiator going into battle. His best friend wrapped both arms around her and hugged her to his chest.

  No. Mine. Mine. God. A six-year-old kid had taken up residence in his head. Time to rein in the emotions. He curled his hands into fists and got out of his pickup. Catherine extricated herself from Ash’s clutches and slid into Matt’s arms.

  “Hey.”

  She followed her usual greeting by standing on tiptoes for a kiss. Matt’s chest ached with pride as he leaned down and claimed his prize.

  “Hey, yourself. I see you met Don Juan.”

  “I did.” She turned her gaze to Ash. “He’s exactly as you described him.”

  “Not exactly, I’ll wager.”

  Ash pulled her hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her across the street. As much as it irritated him to see Ash fawn over her, Matt wanted them to be friends. He grudgingly walked behind them.

  “He failed to tell you I’m a fixer of problems, rescuer of damsels in distress, and an all around great guy. Didn’t he?”

  “He might’ve left out the rescuer part.”

  Catherine glanced over her shoulder. Her wink was to reassure him, and he returned it with a slight nod. He got the message. When the flirting was over, it would be Matt she’d reach for in the dark.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sunday, August 27th, 1:00 p.m.

  One thing for sure, he wasn’t waiting two weeks to replace his doll. Last night when Vince went outside to smoke a joint, sweet Jessie had jumped at the chance to flirt with him. What’d she do? She’d followed him down the hall toward the restrooms. Given him the “fuck me” look before she ducked into the women’s toilet. Shit. He’d almost come on the spot. Oh yeah, Jessie wanted him.

  And he was going to give her exactly she wanted. In spades.

  He’d hung around until Vince and Jessie left and followed them home. This morning he’d returned to their neighborhood, he’d parked down the road, and waited. Sure enough, Jessie drove off in her car alone. He tagged along, stayed out of sight, and followed her to a local grocery store. Interesting, she parked way over to the side of the building. She got out
and put on one of those orange vests the employees wore...sweet Jessie had a job. He’d have to be careful, these big-box food marts had cameras trained on the parking lot. It would be better to follow her, pick a safe spot, and bam, she’d be his. It worked the last time. This shit got easier and easier.

  Soon Vince would learn he wasn’t such as badass after all. He’d cry like a girl at the thought of somebody else fuckin’ his old lady.

  He’d finally found a doll who wouldn’t bitch and lie to him. Excitement buzzed through his system. He and Jessie would party hard. He’d be sure to stock the fridge because she did like her beer.

  First, he’d attend the meeting out at Will’s place. Be the good citizen. Besides, he needed to know what Will and his little posse were doing. He might point them in the direction of a few poor unsuspecting bastards to keep them busy.

  Blood raced through his veins when he drove across the parking lot. The air conditioner ran full blast. Still, sweat popped out and soaked his shirt under his arms. His cock throbbed against his zipper now that plans were firm and close to being executed. He pointed his pickup toward Will’s house.

  He shoved his mama’s old pistol further under the seat. Pointing the .380 at his last doll had worked okay. She’d hopped right into his pickup without a fuss. He’d use it to take Jessie. And why not? She fuckin’ wanted him to.

  ****

  Monday, August 28th, noon

  Catherine hoisted the basket of laundry up on her hip and closed the door behind her. She’d had her usual nightmare. The dream hadn’t held its typical horror, allowing her to wake before the fingers tightened around her throat. A good sign she was putting the past behind her. She didn’t mind that the rest of her only day off would be at a dead run.

  A dinner date with two handsome men required she finish her scullery-maid duties, as she called them, early enough to be dressed by six.

  Ash Hunter certainly had made an impression at the Pizza Stop. The teenage girls behind the counter had been thoroughly charmed. Around Matt’s height, Ash’s blond hair and hazel eyes drew attention to his face. With sharply-honed features, squared jaw and a cleft in his chin, Ash was perfect except for an inch long scar high on his cheekbone. Handsome but not in the same dark, rugged, sexy way Matt was.

  She stopped at the big house and ran up to Emma’s front door. Her Monday routine included checking to see if Emma needed anything from town. Catherine called out over the blaring TV after knocking the third time. The door popped open, and she found herself being pulled inside at a run.

  “Hurry,” Emma insisted. “We’re missing the news.” She stopped in front of the TV and shushed Catherine, who hadn’t said a word.

  “Just who is Sheriff Matt Ballard?” The pert blonde-haired woman on the screen leaned forward, her face a portrait of questioning. “And why is he withholding critical information? This reporter believes you, the public, has the right to know if a serial killer lives in our community. Is a mad man murdering the women of our once peaceful county? Your safety could depend on Sheriff Ballard’s actions and answers. Yet when I asked our sheriff of less than a year, he refused to give answers.” She turned in her chair to watch a film of Matt walking out of the park where Annie Travers was found. When she looked back into the camera, her eyebrows pulled together, giving her a grave expression. “My concerns were brushed aside as if the fear I have for my viewers was unimportant. Be sure to tune in tomorrow. We will learn as the week goes on why you don’t have the right to information which might save your life.” She lit up the TV with a radiant smile. “This is Sylvia Horning reporting for RBS News at noon.”

  Emma hit the off button on the remote while Catherine stood with her jaw hanging open. Behind the smile of the newswoman was pure unadulterated hate. And she’d declared war on Matt. A tug on Catherine’s sleeve pulled her attention away from the TV and down into Emma’s curious eyes.

  “You and the sheriff pretty close?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” No reason to deny their relationship. Emma had watched the driveway like a sentinel on guard duty since the first sign of Catherine’s stalker. Matt’s pickup had sat outside overnight more than once.

  “Well? Is she telling the truth? Do we have a serial killer in the area?” Her grip tightened on Catherine’s hand, and fear sparked in Emma’s eyes.

  “Yes.” Catherine had to tell Emma the truth so she’d be careful. “I don’t understand why Sylvia Horning is on the attack. She’s sensationalizing the murders. Matt’s made more than one statement to the paper and TV station that every woman needs to exercise caution. He wants us to be safe not terrified.”

  “She insinuated he had secrets about his past he didn’t want us to know about.”

  “We all have secrets, things we want to forget.” The last thing Catherine wanted to discuss was the right or wrong of hiding your past. “Please don’t judge him by whatever story she cooks up.”

  “I reckon you’re right. You know, if we’ve got a murderer on the loose, I’m doubly glad I had the lights strung.”

  “Me, too.”

  “No need. I did it for both our safety. We girls can’t be too careful. I keep a pistol on my nightstand, and you should do the same.”

  “A gun? I’m surprised at you.” Catherine had visions of Grandma Mazur from the Janet Evanovich books. Except Emma might have fewer wrinkles.

  “Let me show you.” Emma dashed out of the room. She was back in seconds waving a weapon nearly as big as she was in the air. “I went to one of those all day classes and got me a license to carry this baby.”

  “Emma,” Catherine gasped. “You’ll hurt yourself with that thing.”

  Emma huffed out a sound of disgust. “I learned to shoot long before you were born.”

  Catherine checked her watch. “Do you need anything from town?”

  “I expected you’d stop. I wrote everything down. Let me get it.”

  Catherine tucked the list in her jeans pocket, hugged Emma goodbye, and hurried to the car. Matt probably didn’t watch the noon news, but he needed to know he’d picked up his own stalker. She grabbed her cell and punched in his number, but the call went straight to voicemail. The message she left was short and to the point. The laundry still needed to be done, and Catherine wasted no time getting on the road.

  ****

  Monday, August 28th, 4:00 p.m.

  “What a mess. This is the first autopsy where I’ve come close to arresting the victim’s father.” Matt leaned his head back against the wall in Dr. Reinhardt’s office and closed his eyes. Damn, Will Brooking’s behavior warranted getting hauled to jail.

  “How dare he try to push his way into my office. I will not tolerate his kind of behavior in my morgue.” Dr. Kurt Reinhardt slapped his open hand on top of his desk, sending a small pencil holder skittering over the edge onto the floor. “If he repeats it, I will press charges.”

  “He’s a man in pain, looking for answers.” Matt understood Will was grieving and tried to take his tantrum in stride. He’d certainly pushed the medical examiner’s hot button when he’d demanded to hear the gory details.

  Dr. Reinhardt stood, picked up his pencils, and replaced them one by one. His office was a study in organization. The stoop in his back appeared to be more pronounced today. Balding, the top of his head turned red when he lost his temper.

  Matt changed the conversation back to the subject at hand. “Talk me through your thoughts. Then I’ll let you get back to work.”

  The ME stopped straightening his desk, leaned back, and remained quiet for a minute. “TOD was between midnight and two a.m. Friday morning. Keep in mind that’s an estimate. Due to exposure to the elements, I can’t pinpoint as accurately as I’d like.”

  “Sonofabitch left her in the park before daylight. Explains why nobody noticed a vehicle going in or out Friday morning.”

  “Judging from the contents of her stomach and the condition of her body, she hadn’t been eating a lot. Contusions around her ribs and right jaw indicate she
was beaten. I found extensive tearing and bruising in the vaginal and anal area. ”

  “A sex slave. Tethered where she couldn’t escape, yet not tended to.” Matt’s mind whirled with ideas and possibilities. Why starve her? Punishment? “She was strangled.”

  “That’s correct. Only this time the killer was more zealous.”

  “Zealous? What the hell does that mean?” Matt’s nerves snapped.

  “Call it what you wish. The strangulation was more brutal with this victim.” Reinhardt removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The bruising around her neck was more extensive. Her hyoid bone had been crushed.”

  “Any idea what kind of tether was around her ankle?”

  “Matt, I don’t like to guess, but if I had to—”

  “Guess,” Matt interrupted and insisted.

  “Handcuffs. Unlike raw abrasions on the skin left by rope burns, a cuff would leave grooves in the flesh. I’ll run some comparison pictures to see if I can find like wounds.”

  “I can’t wait weeks for the autopsy results. You pushed me way out with the first one, but you have to help me out here. I’m sending what I have to the FBI for a profile and would like to follow with your reports.”

  “You can have everything except the toxicology reports in a couple of days. It’s the best I can do.” Dr. Reinhardt’s mouth closed, his lips drawn to a thin line.

  Apparently, that was his last word on the subject.

  Matt shook the doc’s hand and headed for his cruiser. He turned his cell on to a barrage of beeps and buzzes. He was about to listen to one when a disturbing sight caught his attention. At least a dozen reporters and as many cameras waited at the bottom of the steps. Shit. No getting past them. He inhaled deeply and walked to meet them.