by Mary Burton
He stood in his studio, a strong drink in his hand as he looked at the empty chair that was supposed to be holding his precious Harmony. He shouldn’t have lost his temper with her. God, he’d put so much work into her and if he’d been careful and patient, he could have fixed the damage she’d created.
“Damn.”
He missed her so much that he’d turned on her phone this morning and scrolled through her pictures. He’d read her sister’s frantic texts. “It shouldn’t be this way, Harmony.”
Years ago, he’d acted rashly with his first doll. He’d been watching her for weeks and each night he burned to touch her and remake her into a sweet doll.
She’d been walking home, her body swaying. She was dizzy from her drink. A drink he’d spiked. He’d been ready to offer her help as she approached an intersection. And then the car had hit her.
He could still picture her body flying like a rag doll onto the hood of the car. A woman nearby screamed. People ran to her aid.
So he’d backed away, terrified. He couldn’t be associated with this. Knox would find out. So he’d returned to the party, shaken and anxious. Then he’d seen the other doll.
Kara had been drunk. She walked erratically. She was defenseless. And it bothered him that someone else might take advantage. So he followed her.
He didn’t dare touch her or come too close until she turned onto a darkened side street. It was providence. She was walking toward him. And when she tripped, just feet away from the van, he knew she was meant to be his.
“Kara,” he said.
She struggled to right herself, swayed, and turned, smiling. “Hey, do I know you?”
“Yeah. I was at the party. We danced,” he lied.
“We did?”
He hurried up to her as she shifted and caught her before she fell. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a little drunk,” she said with a giggle.
“It’s okay. You want me to take you home?”
“Would you? That would be great.”
So trusting. He led her back to his van and opened the front passenger door for her. He helped her sit and fastened her seat belt. “Buckle up.”
She giggled. “This is so nice of you. I’m more messed up than I thought.”
“I know. But don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
He closed the door and rushed around to the driver’s side. His body buzzed with excitement. As he turned on the engine, she melted into the seat with no hint of worry. Her head tipped back against the headrest, and her eyes closed.
So still. So perfect.
“Kara? You okay?”
“Yes,” she said without opening her eyes. “I just need to rest my eyes.”
“Sleep. It’s fine. I’ve got you.”
When he pulled up in front of his small house, she was still sleeping. He hustled around the front of the van, glancing around to make sure none of his neighbors’ lights were on. He quietly opened her door, unbuckled her seat belt, and lifted her in his arms. She was so light. So small. Her head slumped against his shoulder, and he knew he was in love.
He carried her into the basement and laid her on a worn red sofa. He pulled up a chair and sat in front of the couch, admiring his future creation.
When she awoke, he was sorry to see her eyes flutter open. But he was ready with a soda laced with drugs.
“Where am I?” she asked, pushing into a sitting position. Worry sharpened her gaze.
“My place. You forgot to tell me where you lived.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes.
“Here, drink this. It’ll settle your stomach.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever drank that much.” She sipped from the straw.
“It happens.”
“Never to me before.”
She sipped more, but within minutes her eyes were blinking slowly. He took the soda can before she dropped it.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. You’re perfect.”
And she was asleep again. “Such a perfect little doll.”
He hadn’t been able to resist making up her face. She was dressed like a doll, but her face was all wrong. When she awoke again, she was shocked to see her face. He had to force her to drink more of the soda this time. He was never proud that he’d had to restrain her, but this was his first doll. He was still learning all the nuances of his artwork. During the four days that he kept her, he didn’t realize the acute effect of alcohol on the narcotic he was feeding her. He didn’t mean to overdose her.
When she stopped breathing, he tried to revive her, but was unsuccessful. He kept her lifeless body a few more hours, then knew the time had come to bundle her in a blanket and give her back. When he put her in the back of his van and drove across town, he was terrified.
He passed the chief, who recognized him. But he smiled as he gripped the wheel.
His first doll had taught him many lessons. The first had been that makeup didn’t last. When he’d seen her in her casket, he had been devastated to see her skin scrubbed clean. His art had been destroyed.
So he’d learned the art of tattooing. The next three women after her, the practice dolls, weren’t nearly as special. They were cheap imitations of Kara. He’d used them to hone his skills.
His perfect doll was Diane, but he’d let her go too soon. And then Elena had slipped her restraints. And his temper had gotten the better of him.
But there was still Tessa, his Serenity. She was the sweetest of all the dolls. She deserved his best work and his love. And this time he would not let her slip from his grasp. They could have years of bliss together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Thursday, October 13, 7:30 a.m.
The Elena Hayes autopsy was the first on the day’s schedule, and Tessa knew she’d be assisting Dr. Kincaid. Veronica Hayes had visited the medical examiner’s office yesterday, and it had been heart-wrenching as she’d stared at what was left of her sister’s face. Veronica had reached out to Elena’s arm but couldn’t bring herself to touch her.
“What kind of sick bastard would do this to her?” Veronica had asked.
Even now as Tessa and Dr. Kincaid did their morning rounds, Veronica’s words were never far.
“I said, are you ready to discuss this patient?” Dr. Kincaid asked.
Tessa looked up. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
Dr. Kincaid opened a refrigerated door and glanced at the face of an attractive man who had been in the prime of his life until last night, when he’d gripped his chest after a meal of organic vegetables and free-range meat and dropped to the floor. He’d been an avid runner and had no history of smoking. “What about his family history?”
Tessa glanced at her notes. “He did have an uncle who had a heart attack at forty-five. The uncle survived. His wife said he’s never complained of heart trouble.”
“What kind of medicines was he taking?”
“His wife brought in a bottle of antacids. It was nearly empty.”
“Why was he taking the antacids?”
“He was complaining of mild heartburn.”
Dr. Kincaid shook her head. “That’s the last of our cases. The detectives will be here in about twenty minutes. Jerry is getting their case prepped and on the table. Have you notified Douglas Knox’s family about his death?”
“I was able to get the number of his oldest daughter, and I’ve put a call into her. I didn’t leave a specific message other than to call me.”
“Good. We need to know how to proceed with the body.”
“Okay.”
Dr. Kincaid studied her closely. “Are you okay, Dr. McGowan?”
The question caught her off guard. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because Sharp called me last night and told me that you also knew this victim. He’s worried about you.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “He’s assigned a cop to me twenty-four/seven.”
“Why?”
“He th
inks there’s a pattern to these deaths, and I might be next.”
Dr. Kincaid’s gaze darkened. “Sharp doesn’t scare easily. I agree with his caution.”
Tessa smiled, hoping it hid her worry. Last night she’d barely slept. If she wasn’t trying to draw connections between the two murdered women and herself, she was thinking about Dakota.
All this time she’d thought he’d been using the past to avoid the future, but God, it looked like he had been right to worry. On an instinctual level he’d known Kara had been murdered.
When she stepped into her office, Dakota was standing there, staring at a picture taken of her and a group of forensic doctors identifying bones in the jungle.
“You look happy in this picture,” he said without turning. “You didn’t smile much like that toward the end of us.”
“I was happy at that moment. We found the soldier we’d been searching for. But I wasn’t really happy, mostly because I knew you weren’t happy and I didn’t know how to fix it.”
“It’s selfish of me to withdraw,” he said as he replaced the picture.
Tessa didn’t speak as he turned and crossed to her.
“I was angry and frustrated, and the better it got between us the worse I felt. It was as if I didn’t have the right to be happy because my sister was dead.”
This was the first time she’d ever had a sense of what he felt. “If it had been reversed and you’d died, would you have wanted Kara to suffer alone?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I can promise you, she’d not have wanted this for you. She adored you.”
“I can’t make any promises about our future until I catch this killer. I understand myself well enough to know I won’t be much better of a person than I was a year ago.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
God, but she loved this man. She’d told him often enough when they’d first married, but he’d seemed to brush her words aside. Leaving for Southeast Asia had been a last-ditch effort to get him to react, and when he hadn’t, she left. Now Tessa was back, trying to hold them together.
“God hates quitters, Agent Sharp.”
That prompted a half smile.
She took his hands in hers, half expecting him to pull away, but he did not. “You’ve taken a lot of bad people off the streets. You’ve given so many families closure.”
“What’s the saying? The cobbler’s wife has no shoes. He can do for others, but he can’t do for himself or his family.”
“You’re getting closer to this killer, Dakota. You’ll catch him.”
“It’s not coming together fast enough. Especially if you’re next on his list.”
“What about the boy who delivered the drugs? You’re nearly certain the drugs came from Dr. Bailey’s office.” The clean scent of soap mingled with his scent, and for the first time in a while, no traces of cigarette smoke.
“The office manager is still not talking, but I’m going to press her hard today. She’s coming back to the station with her attorney.”
“You can be a pretty scary guy.”
He traced his thumb over the back of her hand. His touch was so soft and gentle, it would be easy to convince herself he’d not touched her. “I don’t want you to ever be scared of me.”
She smiled. “I’m not.”
“Good.”
She squeezed his hand. “What about Veronica Hayes?”
“Veronica is working with the sketch artist, and we’re expecting an image soon.”
“Let’s hope she remembers enough for a good sketch.”
“Yeah.”
Her office phone rang and she glanced at the display, annoyed. She pressed the speakerphone. “Dr. McGowan.”
“Carol Knox is returning your call. Line two.”
She glanced up at Dakota. “Thanks, Sarah.” She ended that call and explained to him, “Carol Knox is the chief’s daughter. His ex-wife died six years ago.”
His demeanor chilled in a blink. “I’d like to talk to her.”
“Sure.” She picked up line two. “Ms. Knox, this is Dr. Tessa McGowan, with the Virginia Medical Examiner’s Office.”
“It’s about my father, isn’t it?” Her voice sounded sad, resigned.
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry to say he passed away yesterday.”
“How?”
“We’re still trying to determine that. Do you mind if I put you on speakerphone, Ms. Knox? I have Agent Dakota Sharp with the Virginia State Police with me, and he’d like to ask you some questions.”
She hesitated. “Virginia police? Yeah, sure.”
Tessa pressed the speakerphone. “Ms. Knox, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can hear you.”
“Ms. Knox. Agent Sharp.”
“Yes, Agent Sharp,” Ms. Knox said.
“Can you tell me about your late brother, Robert Knox?”
The line crackled with silence for a moment. “I don’t understand. My brother, Robbie, died twenty years ago. He drowned.”
“What can you tell me about Robbie?” Dakota asked. “I understand he was arrested on arson charges.”
More heavy silence. “I don’t see why you would care. But yes, Robbie was in trouble more than he wasn’t. As he grew older, he became harder to handle. And when he set that shed on fire with the dog inside, it devastated my mother. She and Dad both tried to get him help, but they couldn’t seem to reach him.”
“How did he drown?”
“Dad took him out on a fishing trip. It was a rainy, cold day. About halfway through the day, Robbie fell overboard. Dad said the current caught him and pulled him under. They never found his body.”
“Was there any kind of inquiry into the boy’s death?”
“I suppose. I was about fifteen at the time, and my parents kept most of the details to themselves. I do know in the end it was ruled an accident. I remember there was an insurance payout, which Dad gave to Mom.”
“And then your father moved east.”
“I think the strain of losing a child was too much. They split up right after Robbie died.” She sighed. “Dad was different after Robbie died. He withdrew from us completely.”
“What was it like for you, losing your brother?” Dakota asked.
“Honestly, my sister and I were relieved. Toward the end with him around, we slept with our door locked. He scared us.”
Dakota looked up at Tessa. “What did he do that was so frightening?”
“I’d wake up at night and he’d be standing over my bed.” She went silent. “He would tell me I looked so peaceful when I was sleeping. I looked like a perfect little doll.”
“A doll?”
“Mom tried to tell Dad that Robbie had problems, but Dad insisted he could control Robbie. That he would grow out of his fantasies. My parents fought a lot toward the end of their marriage.” Again she grew silent. “Look, this isn’t a subject I like talking about. Robbie tore our family apart.”
“Do you have a picture of your brother?” Dakota pressed.
“I do somewhere. I would have to dig it out of storage.”
“It’s important I see it as soon as possible. Can you take a picture of it and text it to me?”
“Why do you care about my brother?”
“I have a theory that might be way off base, but I need to check it out. I’d like to see a picture of him. When I do, I’ll let you know what I’m thinking.”
A heavy silence drifted between them. “You think he’s alive, don’t you?”
“Why would you say that?”
Her breath hitched as she spoke, and she had to stop a moment before saying, “Mom thought she saw him once about eight years ago. She swore she saw him standing on a street corner.”
“Did she speak to this person?”
“She called out to him, but then he turned and vanished into a crowd. She was troubled for days. We all were. I even went back to locking my bedroom door. But she never saw this guy again, and we figured it
was just a guy who looked like him.”
“I need that picture,” Dakota said.
“I’ll look for it right now,” Ms. Knox said.
“Thank you.”
“Carol,” Tessa said. “Call me back later and we can discuss your father’s remains.”
“Right. Sure. Thanks.” The line went dead.
“You really don’t think that Robbie Knox is responsible for these deaths?” Tessa asked.
“I don’t know.”
Her phone buzzed again. Jerry was summoning her to the autopsy suite for the Elena Hayes case. “I need to go.”
“Right.”
Tessa hurried along the hallway, focused on Dakota’s deliberate footsteps behind her. In the autopsy room, Jerry pulled the sheet from Elena’s body as Dr. Kincaid watched. The outside world faded away.
Elena’s face was red and bruised from extensive tattooing. Clearly, the Dollmaker had not finished his work when she’d escaped. Tessa glanced again at the thumb that was still swollen. “Jerry, what do the X-rays of her hand look like?”
He turned and flipped on the light of the X-ray board, which illuminated an image of Elena’s right hand. “She’s double-jointed. It would have hurt like hell for her to distort it like this, but my bet is she did it as a kid.”
Tessa stared at the X-ray. “It was one of her party tricks. Used to creep everyone out.”
Dr. Kincaid studied the top of the patient’s head, which had been waxed bare. Her gaze roamed over the red skin on the face and then to the neck and the bruising there. “X-rays show a fractured windpipe and hyoid bone in her neck. Strangulation killed her.” She examined the injection site on the patient’s forearm. “There’s no other blemish on her body, but we’ll test for drugs and signs of sexual abuse. She doesn’t appear as malnourished as the other one. He couldn’t have held her longer than a few days maybe.”
“He’s not wasting any time getting to work,” Dakota said.
Dakota’s phone buzzed with a text. Frowning as he read, he said, “Andrews ran the DNA samples found on Kara, Dillon, and Richardson in his lab. The DNA found on all three victims matches. He’s now trying to see if DNA was collected from the three murdered prostitutes.”
“There are other victims?” Dr. Kincaid asked.
“Across the country. This guy hasn’t been dormant the last twelve years. He’s been honing his craft.”
