by CC Dragon
“Are you coming to the after-party?” she asked.
“No, I have to try to find the third girl. Sorry, I just feel like I’m missing something. I haven’t done one thing today that was useful toward the case. I need a bit of quiet.”
“No problem, I understand. Do what you have to do. I’m just thrilled you got to see it. I’ll see you later.” She gave me an air kiss at each cheek then headed off to find the table.
I followed, and in the flurry of attention lavished on Ivy, managed to grab my purse and slip out the door without being noticed.
I cleared my mind and drove wherever my instincts wanted. Twenty minutes later, I found myself at the site where Little Cel’s body had been dug up. Cutting the engine, I closed my eyes. All I could do was empty my mind and look for the killer.
Darren’s mind came clearly to me now. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where the next victim was yet either. I had the impression Warren kept it from him until they were plotting how to get in. I needed another angle.
I left Darren’s mind and tried Warren’s. As expected, I met a brick wall. There was one thing I hadn’t tried. It hadn’t even occurred to me until that moment, but it was worth a try. If I wanted to locate the third doll, I needed to tune into it. I only knew one way.
I went into Karen’s mind. Not the Karen I’d met on the Other Side, but the Karen who was a little girl being terrorized by her brother. I went back to the day Warren fell out of the tree house. The day he died.
I felt the fear. The anger in Karen as she fought with her brother. That wouldn’t help me. I backed up to when she settled her dolls into the tree house for the tea party. Before Warren charged in to cause trouble.
Karen primped and held each doll. The first two I knew, the last one I had. As she touched the third one, I got clearer than I’d ever been.
The face of the little girl that now slept with the doll flashed in my mind. I opened my eyes and started the Jeep. Flooring it in strappy heels through the back roads, I didn’t think at all as I drove to the house. I just had to go there before I lost the connection.
My lead foot nearly overshot it. I slammed on the brakes, bringing the Jeep to a jerky stop at the end of a gravely driveway.
The name on the mailbox was Major.
I’d found it! The third girl lived here.
I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Matt’s number.
“Yeah?” He’d clearly been asleep.
“I’ve got the house and a name for our third girl.” I exhaled all the pressure. The danger was by no means over, but at least now we could put up a fight.
“Get to the station now.” I’d gotten Matt’s attention.
“Don’t you want to come here?” I asked.
“No, station, now,” he ordered.
“Fine.” I hung up and grabbed a pen and notebook out of the glove compartment. I wrote down what I knew. The girl inside was the same age as Little Cel and Tina. Innocently sleeping with her doll.
Part of me wanted to go ring the doorbell. To warn them. It wasn’t the right thing. The parents would think I was nuts. It would undercut whatever the cops would do. The cops wouldn’t appreciate that.
Darren and Warren weren’t going to strike tonight, so it was best to do as Matt said. I pointed the Jeep in the direction of the police station.
At two in the morning, the station was still humming with activity, though at a lower level. Matt had beaten me there.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
I handed him the piece of paper. “I’m sure.”
“Any idea when?” He headed inside.
I followed him to his desk, dropping into the uncomfortable hard plastic guest chair. “Soon. Not tonight.”
Matt finally looked at me with a frown. “What are you wearing?”
I glanced down. The red slinky number was perfect for the club. Not so perfect for ghost busting, killer hunting or police station interviews. “I was out.”
“Apparently. The judge will be here any minute.”
“Why is he coming?” I asked.
Matt pushed a bunch of buttons on the computer. “He asked me to keep him apprised of this case. It’s not even his area but that’s my little brother. He gets stuck on things.”
“What are you doing?” I tried to get a look.
“Looking up the family.”
“The girl’s name begins with a ‘B’ and she’s an only child. Both parents live in the house.” I hadn’t gotten all the information. It was a start and there was no time to waste.
“That’s a hit.” Matt looked sharply at me. Not in surprise or disbelief. More like wonder.
I still wondered how it happened.
“You pick the weirdest times to have breakthroughs.” John entered in jeans and an LSU t-shirt. His hair looked like he’d barely run his fingers through it and the worn gym shoes on his feet had no socks underneath.
“You didn’t have to come.” I toyed with my silver watch.
He looked me over but didn’t comment on the dress. “I like to finish what I start. Or at least whatever I get myself involved in. What do we have?”
“A name, Becky Major, an address, and if we can pinpoint it, I’m hoping we’ll have a date.” Matt turned from the computer to face us.
“I told you soon. The next day or two. It’ll happen at night. I can’t be more specific.”
“That’s close enough. We’ll talk to the family tomorrow.” Matt’s printer began to hum as he organized the paperwork.
“I want to be there,” I said.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The family might dismiss it if we tell them how we got this lead.” Matt made some notes. “I’ll go tomorrow.”
“What’ll you tell them? You searched the house without their permission and found the doll? You can’t say that. No matter what you do, Darren’s going to get inside the house,” I said.
Matt looked at John then back at me. “I’m going to have that place surrounded,” Matt said.
“Won’t work. Warren will get Darren around you. You can’t catch a ghost.”
“I don’t need to catch a ghost. Just the killer.” Matt folded his arms. “If I have to shoot him to catch him, it won’t break my heart.”
“I hope that isn’t plan A.” That was exactly what Warren wanted. I didn’t know what else to say. It could be necessary. I couldn’t see Darren’s fate, however I did have a clear vision of him getting inside the house that night. Oddly, the girl wasn’t alone. I was there too.
“Let’s concentrate on the family first,” John said. “Without their permission, you won’t have a stakeout or a capture. You have to convince them their daughter is in danger.”
“I should be there for that.”
“Why?” Matt asked.
“Not as a psychic, as a psychologist. That kid is going to be scared out of her mind with all the police. The idea that her doll is somehow going to put her in danger will take some clarification.”
“The parents can handle the girl.” Matt waved off the argument.
“Sure, because this is just the sort of thing a time-out is perfect for.” I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t normal parenting. It requires a certain skill set to handle well. You can’t just barge into her home—take over her room and doll, without explanation.”
“She should go,” John said.
“What’s your logic?” Matt asked.
“She’s a target too. Let her convince the family. Get them to trust her. Let her stay with the girl during the stakeout. If the girl is heavily guarded in one place, the killer might switch order to go after Deanna. This way, you have both targets contained.” John leaned on the desk.
“I like the way you think.” I smiled at John.
It didn’t hit me until I was walking out to my Jeep. I’d just agreed to being put inside a house being staked out for a killer. Worse yet, I knew the killer would make it inside. This whole thing was way too close to me personally now. My skills didn’t tell me if I�
�d live or die. Some things were beyond me.
Chapter Twenty
Matt was already in talking with the family when John and I pulled up in their driveway. I could sense the parents wouldn’t be overly receptive to the news, who would want their home staked out? In the big picture, it was their daughter who was the lucky one.
“Ready?” the judge asked.
“As I’ll ever be.” We made the short walk to the front door. A man shouted on the inside. There was no way to be ready for this.
“I don’t believe this.” The father was not the quiet type.
Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. It was still hard for me to get my brain around the randomness of this. That Warren was using the dolls as a way to arbitrarily kill innocent children. How would I explain that?
John knocked on the door and Matt waved us in. “This is the lady I was telling you about. Dr. Oscar is a psychologist who specializes in these sorts of unusual cases.”
I didn’t know I had a specialty like that, however it seemed to make the family relax a bit.
“Look, Doctor, I don’t know what this has to do with our girl or her doll.” The father was still pacing though not as angrily. I wanted to tell him to call me Deanna, but the title gave me an edge of influence I might need with them. His wife was sitting on the couch, silently crying. She just looked stunned and I couldn’t blame her.
“Please sit down, Mr. Major. I know this is hard. The first thing you have to realize is that it has nothing to do with your daughter except the doll. The man we’re looking for is very disturbed. It goes back to his childhood. He’s not rational but he is very dangerous.” I didn’t want to give away too much.
“What does it have to do with a doll?” Mr. Major cut in.
“Those dolls belonged to his late sister. They are the center of his obsession. Your daughter has become his focus.”
“So take the doll,” Mrs. Major squeaked behind her tears. “It wasn’t even one of her favorites until recently. Get rid of it, burn it. We’ll buy her other dolls.”
I sat next to the wife, attempting to seem confident yet understanding. Regular therapy was one thing. You were usually dealing with past demons. This was a crisis in the future. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Major. That won’t help. This isn’t easy to understand but the doll is already here. The killer has already fixated on your little girl. Whether the doll is here or not, he’s coming just like a homing pigeon because it was here and your daughter owned it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” the husband snapped. “That’s crap. I can’t believe any of this. Next you’ll tell me the doll is haunted.”
That was true. But how much to tell? How much would they believe? Being right didn’t matter. Convincing them I was right wasn’t the point. I had to get them to agree to the stakeout. “It really doesn’t matter what you believe. If the doll is haunted or not, it doesn’t change the fact that a man who has killed three times already is going to try to kill your daughter. Matt, do you have the crime scene photos?” I asked.
“We don’t do that, Dr. Oscar. It’s a last resort.” He toyed with the file.
“We’re there.” I held out my hand and he put the pictures in it. Respectfully, I set them on the coffee table. “This is what he does. This is what’ll happen if you don’t let the police stake out the house tomorrow night. With your daughter inside.”
Mrs. Major covered her eyes.
Mr. Major flipped all the pictures over. “This is insane. Why tomorrow? Why not tonight?”
“He’s not coming tonight.” I didn’t have a better explanation for why.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I know, I’ve gotten inside the killer’s head. That’s my job.” I looked him in the eye and saw the fear. He felt helpless like any father would.
“What do we tell Becky? What do we tell her about why police are camping out in her bedroom?” The father had accepted the need but still wanted to protect his daughter. “She can sleep with us.”
“No,” I cut in. “She has to be in her own bed.”
“And we can’t have you in the same room. If you get in the way of the police trying to protect her, your safety could be at risk or you could jeopardize her safety,” Matt said.
“You can’t leave her alone.” The mother went from passive to stern.
“You can be in your bedroom but we can’t have you on scene. Besides, he won’t get in. The perimeter will be covered. We’ll get him before he gets inside the house. He’s not that smart of a killer. He’s mentally disturbed. That’s why we think he’ll try even with the police here. It won’t discourage him. That’s why this is all so unusual.”
Mr. Major shook his head for a few moments then looked at his wife.
“She’ll be terrified.” Mrs. Major buried her face in her hands. “You know how she gets with those bad dreams.”
“I’d be willing to stay in the room with your daughter.” I hoped that would put some reassurance to this.
“Why you?” Mr. Major asked.
“She’s a psychologist. Maybe she can help Becky understand some of this. And not be so scared. You’d be angry and I’d be crying the whole time.” Mrs. Major showed the first glimmer of real sense.
Not that I didn’t understand her feelings. I had no idea how I’d feel if it was a member of my family as a target. Being hysterical or angry didn’t help anyone.
“You have experience with children?” he asked me.
“Yes.” I sounded confident. I’d done all of the required child psychology courses but it wasn’t my specialty. However this didn’t qualify as something normal like bad dreams or a divorce trauma. This was much bigger.
“She’s in the backyard playing. I’ll go get her. If she’ll let you, you can stay. If you can’t convince her, no one can be in the house. You’re all outside. The cops can stake out the house. Got it?”
“Yes.” Outside was no good. The killer might not get inside but the ghost could. He could hurt the girl if not kill her himself. Someone had to be there if something happened. Darren and Warren wouldn’t give up.
I was amazed at how quickly Mrs. Major recovered, looking almost normal. A little pink around the eyes, but she didn’t want to show fear to her daughter. Mr. Major brought his daughter in and her eyes grew twice the size as she took in all the people. The girl clutched the doll hard. “Don’t worry, honey. They’re here to help us,” he said. “This is Dr. Oscar. She wants to talk to you for a minute.”
“Hi, Becky. That’s a pretty doll.” I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her.
She smiled briefly but kept looking at the boys in blue.
“Why don’t we go to your room? We can talk there without all these boys around.”
“Am I sick?” she asked.
“No, no one is sick. I’m not that kind of doctor. People come to me when they’re scared or sad, not sick. Will you show me your room? There’s too many boys out here.” I winked and got a real smile out of her. Finally, she took my hand.
I was tugged into a pink and lavender world of lace. Dolls lined the walls. Clearly the girl loved her dolls. She hopped on her bed and cradled the doll. “Are you here for Mommy?” she asked.
“Why do you say that?” I sat down next to her.
“She was crying. You’re a sad doctor.”
Observant girl. “Does she cry a lot?” I asked.
The girl shrugged. “Not a lot but pretty easy. At movies sometimes or birthdays.”
“Well, today your mommy is scared because there’s a bad man in the neighborhood. She wants to make sure you’re safe. You know that bad men look same as regular men.” She was old enough, but I had to make sure she followed me carefully.
“The boy is bad.”
“A boy at school?” I asked.
“No, him.” She pointed to the dresser. Warren was smugly smiling at me. He didn’t move.
I didn’t let my unease show. “Do you see him a lot?”
She chewe
d her lip. “Not a lot. He keeps saying his brother is going to come and hurt me. Is that the bad man Mommy is worried about?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“But he’s just a boy.”
“No, honey. He’s a boy. And a ghost.” I pointed to Warren still silently watching us. “His brother is a grownup now and he’s very sad because they’re separated. We have to stop the brother from coming here.”
“You won’t,” Warren said. “He’s going to get her and that dumb doll.”
“No.” The girl buried her face in the doll.
Warren just laughed. “She has no idea what she’s in for.” He wasn’t going to make any of this easy, but I never expected that he would. Worse now, he knew we’d be there. The element of surprise was gone, if I’d ever had it.
“Why are you doing this? These girls didn’t do anything to you. Your sister is already dead.” If I could get him talking maybe I could stop the whole thing. Maybe, but it hadn’t worked before. I wasn’t the type to give up.
“So they get the dolls now? They get to enjoy them? Be special. I was never special. I was never unique. Do you know how hard it is to be a twin? An identical twin?” he asked.
“We’ve been through this before, Warren. I’d be happy to talk to you about all of this. If you’d just stop having your brother kill people. Why not leave Darren and this little girl alone? Let them live their lives, unhaunted. You go to the Other Side.” This was therapy. I was counseling a ghost. If I thought about it too much, I’d either start laughing or run out of the room. This ghost wanted the girl dead and I was trying to counsel him. It was all I could do.
“I thought I could. I tried to be apart from that wimp brother of mine. Time for us isn’t like it is for you. I left him alone and I couldn’t take it. So I decided neither could he. Then he wouldn’t do it.”
“Wouldn’t do what?” I asked. “He’s killed for you twice. Three times if you count Karen.”
“Sure, but I wanted him to. The chicken wouldn’t do it himself. I hate being alone. And I hate that I hate it.” His shoulders slumped and lips quivered.
