The Dollmaker (Forgotten Files Book 2)

by Mary Burton

  “You mean me?”

  “DNA will rule you out.”

  Madison balled up his fists. “I’m not some fucking monster!”

  “I’m not arresting you. I’m asking you to come to the station with me and answer a few questions. I need help solving this case.”

  Madison shook his head. “I’ll meet you downtown as soon as I get ahold of my attorney.”

  Sharp chewed on two or three choice words before nodding. “I’ll wait while you call.”

  When Tessa didn’t come home by seven as the Dollmaker had expected, he backtracked to her office, where he found her car. Her routine was still new and remained unpredictable, so it was important he kept a close eye on her so he could figure out her pattern. Watching and planning for his next doll offered him a thrill as tantalizing as the transformation process.

  He sat for another thirty minutes, waiting and watching. To calm his nerves, he dug a small sketchbook from his glove box and sketched her face. At first he drew her as she was. Pretty, in an ordinary sort of way. And then he reimagined her new face on the opposite page. He made her face appear more round. He thinned and arched the brows. He stippled her cheeks with freckles. Transformed her lips into a heart shape. She would be so pretty. He was rock hard with anticipation.

  When the office door opened and she exited, he closed the book and sat straighter. A breeze teased her hair as she walked toward her car. So beautiful. So sweet.

  He reached for the handle of his door, wondering if he could make some kind of contact with her. He wouldn’t take her now. He would just talk to her. Say hello. He was sure she wouldn’t be afraid of him. Just then, a city police patrol car pulled up. She waved to the officer, who remained stationed near her car while she got into her vehicle and locked the door.

  Annoyance bubbled before he chased it away. He could yield to frustration, or he could simply focus on the prize. He’d get his Serenity soon. Very soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Tuesday, October 11, 9:30 a.m.

  It had been a frustrating night with Madison. The man had lawyered up immediately and was released within the hour. Madison had refused to answer any questions or give DNA. However, Sharp had given him coffee in a paper cup, and when Madison left it behind, Sharp had collected it and sent it for testing. He’d know within a day or two if the DNA was a match.

  Now Sharp stood outside the funeral home staring at the large collection of mourners. Terrance Raymond Dillon had been eighteen, but the loss of his life touched hundreds of people. Today’s showing was far different than Roger’s final send-off.

  He watched countless mourners stream into the simple building. He didn’t always make it to the funerals of his homicide victims, but when they were young, he did his best to attend. He was here searching for a killer, and he was also saying good-bye again to Kara.

  As he stepped on the curb, he spotted Tessa. She wore her hair loose around her shoulders. Dress-up hair, as she’d once said. Her dress was simple and black, but it skimmed her slim body, reminding him of how much he enjoyed her shape. Dark heels, another rarity for her, made her long legs look even more beautiful. She stood with her hands tightly clasping her purse. Dark glasses covered her eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “You said you were going to be here, and I wanted to come as well.” She checked her watch. “I knew you’d be early.”

  He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and lowered his voice as he took her elbow in hand. “You used to lecture me about coming to these. Said it wasn’t healthy.”

  “Well, now I’m not lecturing. Now I’m walking a mile in your shoes and am here to lend my powers of observation. I’m all eyes and ears, Agent Sharp.”

  “You don’t need to be here.”

  Her smile was bright. “Well, let’s go inside.”

  He muttered a curse.

  “Who should I be looking for?” she asked, already scanning the crowd.

  He guided her toward the door. “You don’t look for anyone. That’s my job.”

  “Today, it’s also my job.”

  She’d never been one to argue, but when she dug in her heels, no amount of persuasion made her change course. She was back in his life. And like it or not, seemed determined to stay. “Focus on the funeral.”

  Tessa drew in a breath. “What was it you said? Killers return out of genuine grief, and some also want to savor the pain they’ve caused.”

  “Something like that.” He pulled off his sunglasses. “I found Madison.”

  “Where?”

  “He went back to his own place.”

  “Is he under arrest?”

  “His attorney arrived about an hour after he did at the station. He’s out now. But not before he accepted a cup of coffee and drank from it.”

  “You have his DNA?”

  “I do.”

  “You should have results in days.”

  Sharp shook his head. “Looking forward to it.”

  They passed a thick hedge of shrubs and entered a vestibule carpeted in rich, soothing green. Organ music drifted from the main parlor already filled with several hundred people. At the front of the room was a polished cherry casket outfitted with shiny brass filigree and handles.

  Sharp had made a donation to the online crowdfunding account for the funeral. Judging by the flowers and the other frills, many others had done the same. Beside the casket was an enlarged version of Terrance Dillon’s senior high school picture, likely shot over the summer in anticipation that he would graduate next spring. Under a blue cap and gown, he grinned.

  Tessa grew still as she stared at the photo. “He looks even younger in the picture than he did in my office.”

  “Yeah.”

  The organist began to play “Amazing Grace,” and the audience stood to sing. Sharp and Tessa couldn’t find a seat and ended up standing against the parlor’s back wall. There were few hymnals left, but a woman sitting in front of Tessa handed over hers. Tessa nudged the book toward Sharp, and he accepted his half. She sang as he watched the group.

  Tessa’s voice was clear and bright; he had to focus hard on his job and not stare at her. He’d forgotten how angelic her voice sounded. She’d been shy about singing and often only sang when she thought she was alone.

  The memorial ran longer than most. There were several people to eulogize the boy. His coach. An uncle. His pastor, kids from the high school, teachers, and friends. All spoke of a highly motivated and fun-loving kid who dreamed of college and his future. The one noticeable absence was Jimmy Dillon, who’d been denied permission to leave jail under guard to attend.

  The last song ended and Tessa took the book, closing it softly and tucking it in a pew.

  “Let’s go outside. I want to watch them leave,” he said.

  Without thinking, he took her hand and guided her through the growing crowd of people. Her fingers wrapped around his, and he struggled to breathe. The more he touched her, the more he missed her. He found an alcove off to the left, just inside the main doors. They stood there and watched.

  “Everyone looks so upset,” Tessa said. “I know death is emotional. But I’ve grown used to dealing with the clinical side of it.”

  “This side is definitely messier.”

  A young girl hurried past them, her hands crushing tissues and trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. The girl vanished into the ladies’ room.

  “I think I need to duck into the ladies’ room. She looks upset.”

  “Good idea.”

  Tessa followed through the restroom door. As Sharp stood by the wall, he flexed his fingers. Almost pleading for something to happen. More mourners streamed out. Several young men about Terrance’s age huddled in a group by the door. He recognized Ronnie and Garcia.

  Sharp walked over to them. “Hey, fellas,” he said. “Agent Sharp with the Virginia State Police.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ronnie said. “Doesn’t make sense cops would be h
ere.”

  “I want to find out who killed Terrance,” he said simply. “Talk to the people who knew him.”

  “Ain’t no one going to find out,” Garcia said. “He was knifed in an alley. Shit happens.”

  Ronnie curled his fingers into fists. Light-colored eyes flamed with anger. “Fuck the shit happens, Garcia. Terrance was the real deal. He was a solid guy.”

  “I’ve only heard good things about the kid,” Sharp said.

  The young men looked from side to side as if they were embarrassed to be seen with Sharp.

  “When’s the last time you saw Terrance?” He often asked the same question twice. The truth was easy enough to recall, whereas lies weren’t as easy to track.

  “Friday night at the last game. He was all excited about seeing his girl,” Ronnie said.

  “You said before he didn’t have a girlfriend,” Sharp said.

  “Nice going,” Garcia said.

  “Why does it matter now?” Ronnie countered. He looked at Sharp.

  “We promised Terrance we wouldn’t tell,” Garcia said.

  Ronnie shook his head. “We weren’t supposed to tell when Terrance was alive. Now he’s dead.” He looked at Sharp. “Terrance got back together with his girlfriend, Stephanie. He didn’t want his grandmother to know because she was so worried about him getting the scholarship.”

  Garcia shook his head. “Then the dumb bastard got himself killed. Ain’t no reason for a guy to be in an alley in the city unless he’s selling drugs.”

  “He was eighteen, Garcia,” Sharp said. “When I was eighteen, I did a few stupid things. I’m lucky to be alive.”

  The boys didn’t speak.

  “Where’s Stephanie?” Sharp asked.

  “She just ran into the bathroom crying,” Ronnie said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You really want to find this killer?” Ronnie asked.

  “More than anything,” Sharp said.

  Both boys nodded. As they filed out of the funeral home, he caught sight of Tessa, who stood with a young girl by the ladies’ room. Her gaze locked on his, and she motioned for him to come over.

  He weaved through the crowds. The girl beside Tessa was petite, not more than seventeen. She had sandy-brown hair skimming her shoulders. Pale skin made the flush in her cheeks all the brighter.

  “Agent, this is Stephanie White. She and Terrance were dating.”

  The girl looked up at Sharp but didn’t make eye contact with him. Tessa wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I know he looks like he could bite, but he won’t.”

  Sharp eased back a bit and did his best to smile.

  Tessa shot him a look as if to point out he still didn’t look approachable.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for your loss, Stephanie. I really am.”

  “He was a good guy.” Stephanie twisted a tissue in her hands until it was a tight spiral around her index finger.

  “That’s what everyone is saying.” A sigh shuddered through him. “Stephanie, I’m here to get any kind of lead on the guy who stabbed Terrance, but I can’t do it without your help.”

  She glanced up, her watery gaze so full of loss.

  “I think Terrance made a delivery on Sunday night,” Stephanie said. “He recognized someone he wasn’t supposed to, and it got him killed.”

  Tessa tightened her hold on the girl and whispered in her ear. The tissue in her hands tore in half.

  “He texted me. At first I didn’t recognize the number. But he said it was Terrance.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That his ride had arrived.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Near midnight on Sunday night.” She shook her head. “I texted him right back, but he didn’t respond. I told him to leave. That whatever Jimmy had gotten him into was bad.”

  “You knew his father was in town?”

  “Terrance told me Jimmy started writing him, but he made me swear not to tell his grandmother. Mrs. Jones hates Jimmy.”

  “What was his last text to you?”

  “‘White van here. Got to go.’”

  White van. Like the vehicle cruising around Diane’s town house.

  “We never found any phone. Do you still have the text?”

  “Yes.” She dug the phone out of her purse and showed him the number.

  Sharp wrote it down. “And he’s never used this number before?”

  “No.” She lowered the phone back in her purse. “Terrance was a great guy. He wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”

  Tessa handed her more tissues. “You did a great job, Stephanie.”

  He handed her a card and a pen. “Write your number on the back. When I find this killer, you’ll be one of my first calls.”

  With a trembling hand she wrote out her information and handed it back. He gave her a fresh business card. “Call me if you think of anything else?”

  She studied his name, her shoulders straightening with resolve. “I will.”

  Stephanie looked up at Tessa. “Thank you.”

  “You also have my number. Call if you need me.”

  Nodding, she walked toward the front door. When she was out of sight, Sharp said, “Thanks. I don’t think she would have talked to me if not for you.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  He glanced at her, not sure if she was annoyed or not. “I’ll admit I’m not the most approachable.”

  Laughter sparked in her gaze, and then she sobered. “Given what you do on a day-to-day basis, it doesn’t surprise me that you’re so distant and angry. How do you do this year after year?”

  “Someone has to give a shit. And I like what I do.”

  She intertwined her fingers with his again, sending ripples of energy shooting through him. “I really get that now.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Saying she understood the demands of the job was far different from living with it. They’d tried that once and failed.

  “The inventory reports I read stated there was no phone in Terrance’s belongings,” Tessa said.

  “I think the killer took it.”

  “You’ll trace the number?”

  “Andrews can, and with any luck it’ll lead us to this guy.”

  The Dollmaker stood outside the church, watching the swarm of mourners who piled into their cars and lined up behind the long black hearse for the short trip to the cemetery.

  He was surprised to see Serenity here. She didn’t know Terrance, but when he saw her approach that cop, he knew she had come here for him. Tessa was a sweet, sweet woman and out of a deep sense of loyalty was trying to fix her life with this cop. But it wasn’t fixable. They didn’t belong together. She just didn’t know it yet.

  She belonged with him.

  “Damn you, Harmony. You shouldn’t have run. You shouldn’t have been afraid. If you’d been patient, Serenity would have joined us, and the three of us could have been a family.”

  He blamed himself for Harmony’s escape. For Terrance’s death. Both deaths were examples of his overconfidence. He’d planned this all so well, but he’d not allowed for mistakes. And he’d made two serious ones.

  But no more mistakes could be tolerated. With the cop asking questions about his dolls, he had no choice.

  He had another doll to make.

  When Sharp received the text from Andrews requesting a meeting, he agreed immediately. Andrews played his cards close to the chest. Sharp arrived at the Shield offices just before one in the afternoon. He flashed his badge at the two guard stations and rode the elevator to the fifth floor, where he was escorted to the computer lab. Andrews sat behind a collection of screens, each with different images. The man seemed lost in thought.

  Sharp cleared his throat. “Andrews.”

  Andrews stared at a screen before finally turning around. “Let me buzz Bowman. He wants to hear my debrief.”

  “Sure.”

  Andrews dialed a number on his phone
console, relayed Sharp’s arrival, and replaced the receiver. “Bowman’s on his way.”

  “I didn’t realize he’d taken a personal interest in this case.”

  “Bowman and Shield both hate cold cases. I briefed them both on our earlier case discussion.”

  “So why am I here?”

  “There’s more data to consider.”

  Before he could ask, the door opened and Bowman crossed to shake Sharp’s hand. His grip was firm and his gaze cutting and direct. “Thanks for coming, Agent Sharp.”

  “I should be the one thanking you for taking on the case,” Sharp said.

  “It’s been a month since the Shark case closed. I’ve already got an itch to close another. Andrews, fill Agent Sharp in on what you’ve found.”

  “As you know, I planned to search all cold cases that might be linked to your sister’s as well as Diane Richardson’s case. I fed all the details into national and international databases.” He reached for the clicker of the overhead projector.

  Bowman shook his head. “We don’t need to see Kara Benson’s crime scene photos.”

  Sharp raised his chin. “Don’t change your methods on my behalf.”

  Andrews reached for his clicker. “I’m going to show you the faces of three women found in three US cities over the last eight years. They were spread across the western part of the country and were prostitutes. Authorities weren’t overly concerned about solving their cases. I also did a computer search of all the media outlets for murdered women made out to look like dolls.”

  Andrews clicked on the overhead. Sharp studied the screen. The women were all young, and each wore makeup resembling a doll as well as a wig. “One of the local media outlets in Denver quoted a detective’s briefing. He called this killer the Dollmaker, as you have, for obvious reasons. I did some digging into the case files of the three women. As I said, one victim was in Denver, one in Salt Lake City, and the third in Colorado Springs. There’s nearly no paperwork on the women’s backgrounds or forensic data from the cases. Two of the three women weren’t found for three weeks. These women lived on the margins. It took months for anyone to file missing persons reports on any of them.”