The Dollmaker (Forgotten Files Book 2)

by Mary Burton

  “And if I can’t remember, I can call Holly. I just need to change.”

  “Right.”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  He checked his watch. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  Fifteen minutes later Tessa stepped off the elevators and found Dakota pacing. “Sorry. Got a call from the lab. Had to take it.”

  “No problem. Are you hungry? Need to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He was parked across the street, and she hurried to match his long strides. She slid into the passenger seat and snapped her seat belt in place.

  His computer sat between them. In the backseat was a box filled with active investigation case files. It was neat and organized. She’d kidded him once about his organization in both his car and apartment. He’d attributed it to the marines, said he’d picked up habits he doubted he’d ever shake. The faint hint of cigarette smoke told her he was stressed.

  When he settled behind the wheel, she was aware of the breadth of his shoulders. The cut of his jaw. The way his fingers wrapped around the gearshift when he put the car in drive and pulled out of the space.

  “The funeral director said there was a doll in Kara’s coffin.”

  She twisted in her seat and faced him. “Say again?”

  “According to the funeral director, a little girl brought the doll to him and told him Kara’s mother wanted it laid beside her.”

  “Why would this killer ask a child to give the doll to the funeral director?”

  “The doll seems to be his calling card. The child was a way to deliver the doll without him being noticed.”

  “Why would the killer attend her funeral?”

  “Killers go to funerals for a variety of reasons. Guilt, remorse, a perverse need to relive the murder. That’s why I want to go over the list of those in attendance.”

  “Assuming the killer would have bothered to sign the register.”

  “If he showed, had the doll put in the casket, I’d bet money he couldn’t resist signing the log and not even use an alias. He’d want a lasting memento of his presence.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Andrews suggested an exhumation.”

  “God, Dakota.”

  They drove in silence as Dakota cut through traffic at speeds frightening to most people. She’d forgotten how fast he drove, but now as before, she didn’t worry. He’d always maintained an utter sense of control.

  “About what happened yesterday morning.” She needed him to hear this. “If it happened again, I wouldn’t be sorry.” She settled back in her seat. “In fact, I’m planning on it happening again.”

  He glanced at her, the sunlight splashing across her face. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  For the first time in a year, she felt a sense of calm. “I know exactly what I’m saying.”

  He didn’t utter a word for the final fifteen minutes of the drive. They pulled up to the front gate of Shield Security. Dakota showed both their identifications and told the guard they were meeting Garrett Andrews.

  In the lobby, a large, muscled man was waiting for them. He wore black slacks and a black turtleneck that covered most of his neck and arms, but she saw the faint scarring on his left hand and on the left side of his neck. He’d been badly burned.

  As he approached, Andrews’s cool blue gaze didn’t show a hint of welcome or emotion. “Agent Sharp. Dr. McGowan, correct?”

  “Yes,” she said, extending her hand.

  Without hesitation, he accepted it in a firm grip.

  “Welcome,” he said.

  She sensed he’d read a book on politeness and was ticking through bullet points. “Thank you, Mr. Andrews.”

  Andrews guided them toward a bank of elevators, and when they were inside, he pressed the top floor. The computer expert made no effort at small talk, and Dakota, who had never mastered the skill, didn’t attempt it either.

  When the doors opened, they followed Andrews along a carpeted hallway to a state-of-the-art computer lab. “I’ve cross-checked names of attendees you sent with a database,” Andrews said.

  “And?” Dakota asked.

  “Two of the men had a prison record. Larceny, drugs, no charges involving sexual assault or any predictors suggesting an escalation to murder.”

  “Women are also capable of killing.”

  “Agreed,” Andrews said. “So I had a look at anyone who might have had a mental-health issue.”

  “That kind of information is now classified by the HIPAA law. How can you access this?” Tessa asked.

  Andrews stared blankly at her. “If it’s connected to a computer, I can get to it.”

  Judging by the equipment in the room, she had no doubt he had the digital world at his fingertips. “Good to know,” she said.

  “What about people who were there and are now showing up during the course of this investigation?” Dakota asked.

  “Diane, Elena, and I were there.” Tessa scanned the list shown on the large display screen. “Stanford Madison was there.”

  “Madison?” Dakota said.

  Andrews tapped computer keys. “I didn’t see his name.”

  “He has a distinctive signature,” Tessa said. “It’s unreadable.”

  Andrews pressed more keys and blew up the list. “It must be this one.”

  She looked at the elaborate scroll swirling over what looked like mountain peaks. “That’s it. It’s how he signs his work. It’s supposed to be an S and M.”

  “He was earning his master’s in art at the school you attended, correct?” Andrews asked.

  “Yes,” Tessa said.

  “Until a few days ago, Madison was preparing for an art show,” Dakota said. “After I paid him a visit, he tossed all his work in the trash and vanished. I’ve got a BOLO out on him.”

  “Interesting,” Andrews said.

  “He also knew my sister, as well as Tessa and Diane,” Dakota added.

  “It sure shines a bright light on him, doesn’t it?” Andrews said.

  “The evidence pointing to Madison feels heavy-handed,” Tessa said.

  Andrews nodded. “If I wanted to frame someone, he would be the perfect choice.”

  “You think he’s being framed?” Dakota challenged.

  “I think it’s important to keep an open mind and not get tunnel vision based on personal bias,” Andrews countered.

  “He’s crawled under a rock and is planning his next move.”

  Andrews shrugged. “Give me his basic data. I’ll search for him.”

  “How?” Tessa asked.

  “Most of us leave a digital trail. If he has one, I’ll find him.”

  “There have been no hits on his credit card,” Dakota said.

  Andrews absently rubbed the back of his hand. “Let me look. Anyone else you remember from the event that struck you as odd, Dr. McGowan?”

  “I remember very little. I was still recovering after the accident and was moving slow,” she said.

  “Given Sharp’s theory about the Dillon boy’s connection to Diane Richardson’s death, it’s logical to assume the boy’s killer would be present at his funeral. Will you be attending his funeral?” Andrews asked.

  “Yes,” Dakota said. “It’s tomorrow at ten at DeLuca’s Funeral Home.”

  “Send me the guest book as soon as the funeral is finished,” Andrews said. “I want to cross-check.”

  “Assuming the killer signed the book before,” Tessa said.

  “He signed it,” Dakota added. “This guy has displayed his work twice, and he wants credit for it. I’d bet money he derives satisfaction watching a roomful of people mourn the person he killed. It’s his version of an art exhibit.”

  “That’s so demented,” Tessa said.

  “No argument there,” Dakota said.

  “I’ve also scanned for crimes involving facial tattoos and women,” Andrews said.

  “Any hits?
” Tessa asked.

  “None yet,” Andrews said. “But it’s only been a few hours. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He stared at Tessa a moment, then shifted topics. “I dug deeper into Knox’s past since we last spoke. His son who drowned had a juvenile record. Knox did a good job of covering up his son’s troubles, but I was able to access records. The kid liked to set fires.”

  “Fires,” Dakota said. “What did the Knox kid set fire to?”

  “Trash cans in his backyard. But what landed the kid in real trouble was a fire in his neighbor’s backyard. Incinerated a toolshed filled with gasoline and the neighbor’s dog. Caused quite an explosion. Knox paid the damages, lost the police report, and that was the end of the matter. The boy drowned a month later.” Andrews handed Dakota a file. “A copy of the arson file.”

  “I won’t ask how you got this,” Dakota said.

  “Wise.”

  Tessa and Dakota thanked Andrews and made their way back to the car. On the return trip, neither spoke. She thought about the two women she’d known who had died senselessly and knew Dakota well enough to know he was processing the case. When Dakota pulled up beside her car, she hesitated before getting out.

  “It’s what you do when you’re quiet for long stretches,” she said to him. “You’re looking at the puzzle pieces.”

  “Yes.”

  “I always felt like I was intruding when you’d get quiet. I felt shut out.”

  He faced her. “You were always my anchor. I didn’t have a right to expect that of you, but you reminded me there was more than the work.”

  “You have every right to expect that of me. I am your wife.” She shook her head. “You always looked annoyed when I tried to speak to you. I thought I was doing something wrong.”

  A smile quirked the edges of his lips. “I’ve been told that I always look annoyed.”

  “You do.” She smiled. “Though it does make you look kind of sexy.”

  His dark gaze held hers, but she didn’t move toward him. Again, it was up to her to bridge the gap. Fine. She’d keep reaching out until he understood she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Unhooking her seat belt, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Watching her, he didn’t pull away but didn’t kiss her back. Why did he always make it so difficult? She leaned into the kiss and nipped his lip with her teeth. A growl rumbled in his chest, and he deepened the kiss as he wove his fingers into the curled strands of her hair. She could feel the emotions racing toward the surface as the kiss grew in intensity.

  The car radio squawked and broke her concentration. As if sensing her thoughts, he said, “The job will always be there. There will always be puzzle pieces to assemble.”

  “I know. I can handle it.”

  He pulled his fingers from her hair. “I don’t want you to handle it. You deserve better.”

  “I want you.”

  He straightened. “We couldn’t hack it for an entire year.”

  “I’ve tried life with you and without you. I like it better with you.”

  He shook his head, and getting out of the car, walked around to her side. He opened the door. For a moment she didn’t move, then she grabbed her purse and slid out. He stood stone straight. The shields were back in place.

  She fished her keys from her purse and opened her car door with the click of a button. “I’m not giving up on you, Agent.”

  He closed his passenger door and turned toward her as she sat behind the wheel.

  She lowered her window. “You think you’re tough.” Her smile wasn’t bitter or sad, but knowing. “But I’m tougher. See you soon.”

  She started the engine, and as she pulled out of the parking space, she glanced in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t moved. Good.

  Sharp couldn’t sit behind his desk after speaking with Tessa. He was jacked up with nervous energy and thoughts of her. If he let her back into his life and she left again, what the hell would he do? When his phone rang, he was grateful for the distraction. “Agent Sharp.”

  “Andrews. Your friend Madison has surfaced. He’s back at his studio. Electricity usage has spiked.”

  “Not very creative.”

  “We’re all creatures of habit.”

  “True.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  A coldness settled over the fire in his belly as he returned to the man’s studio, where he could see light seeping out from a back room. “We’re all creatures of habit,” he muttered, repeating Andrews’s words.

  He parked and strode up to the side door. He banged his fist against the door, standing to the side as he waited. At first, silence, so he banged louder. Finally, there were footsteps.

  The door snapped open to a disheveled Madison, who immediately tried to slam the door. Sharp blocked it with his foot. “We need to talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.” The thick scent of bourbon wafted from Madison’s breath. “Jesus, can’t you give me a break? I’m in mourning here.”

  Madison rubbed long fingers over the thickening stubble on his chin. His shoulders slumped and he stepped aside, allowing Sharp to enter before walking back to the small room.

  Sharp closed the door. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Why? You delivered your news. Leave me in peace.”

  “You lied to me. You told me you broke it off with Diane.”

  “I did.”

  “Then why were you stalking her?”

  Anguish deepened the lines around his eyes. “I wasn’t stalking her. I just wanted to talk to her. Tell her I was sorry.”

  “I watched the surveillance tapes from the camera next to Diane’s front porch. You showed up at her house at least twice.”

  Madison rubbed his forehead with trembling fingers. “I was having second thoughts.”

  “Why’d you throw away all your paintings?”

  He crumpled into a chair. “I couldn’t look at her. Jesus, her eyes seemed to follow me. Haunted me. I couldn’t take it. I kept thinking if I’d stayed with her, she’d still be alive.”

  “How long were you two together?”

  “We met in college, but then lost touch. We met again two years ago at one of my art openings. She came to say hi. Said she recognized my name. We were together a couple of years. She was my muse. The woman gave me inspiration. But as my workload increased, she began to resent it. She started making demands on my time. I resented her getting in the way of my work, so I broke it off.”

  “But you moved to Richmond a couple of months ago. Why break up and then move to her city?”

  “It didn’t take long for me to realize the breakup was a mistake. Without her, I couldn’t work. I wanted to make it right between us. I thought I could save our relationship.”

  “Her mother says Diane was the one that broke it off.”

  “Diane’s mother didn’t like the idea of me as a possible son-in-law in the first place. And then to have me break up with her daughter, well, she was embarrassed. But the old woman did her best to poison Diane against me. The harder I tried to win Diane back, the more she seemed to resent me.”

  “It must have been frustrating trying to apologize and then have her refuse you.”

  “I was so sure she’d take me back eventually. And when she didn’t, I couldn’t eat or sleep. It was terrible.”

  “Did her rejection make you angry?”

  “Sure, it made me angry.”

  “Were you mad enough to kill her?”

  Bloodshot eyes rose to Sharp. “God, no!”

  Sharp scrolled through the images on his phone and showed the picture of Diane’s face to him. “Someone did a number on her face. It’s what an angry man might do to a woman who’s rejected him.”

  Tears welled in his eyes. “Jesus, that’s Diane?”

  “It is.”

  Tears streamed along his face as he looked away. “I would never hurt her. Never.”

  “You’ve been in the city for the last two months. You h
ad the opportunity.”

  “I couldn’t have done that to her, and I wasn’t here the entire two months. I was in Florida for two weeks.”

  “When?”

  “I left about three weeks ago and only returned last week.”

  “You could have left her locked in a room with food and water.”

  “I wouldn’t do that!” he shouted.

  “What do you know about Kara Benson?” Sharp asked, shifting directions.

  “Kara?” He slowly shook his head. “She and I went out a couple of times in college.”

  “Do you remember what happened to her?”

  “She overdosed.”

  “Were you at her funeral?”

  “Yeah. She was in one of my classes, and it was a small community.”

  “Do you remember the last time you saw Kara?”

  Madison shook his head. “What does Kara have to do with Diane?”

  He ignored the question. “When was the last time you saw Kara?”

  “The night of the Halloween party. She was there with Diane and Tessa.”

  “I understand you caused a fight between Kara and Tessa?”

  “I might have stirred it up between them, but it wasn’t that big a deal.”

  “It was a big enough deal for Tessa to leave the party distracted enough to get hit by a car. It was enough of a big deal for Kara to leave the party alone and end up with the guy who fed her the pills that killed her.”

  “What the hell? I didn’t have any connection to that. I was young and trying to hook up.”

  “Do you remember what Tessa, Elena, and Diane were wearing at the Halloween party?”

  “Sure. Doll costumes.”

  “What did you think about the outfits?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sure you do. How did they look to you?”

  “Sexy as hell. Half the guys at the party couldn’t stop looking at them.”

  Sharp flexed the fingers of his right hand. “Do you have a fetish for dolls?”

  Madison rose, his gaze hardening with a survivor’s glint. “Do you have any solid evidence connecting me to Diane’s murder?”

  “Not yet. But I’d like a DNA sample from you.”

  Madison shook his head. “Cops get DNA samples from suspects.”

  Sharp considered reaching for his cuffs but knew the instant he detained Madison, he’d have to read him his Miranda rights, and the whole dynamics of this interaction would change. “They also use DNA to weed out the innocent. I’m looking for a killer, and I need to keep my focus on the target.”