The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(32)

An hour before dawn, the Dollmaker fingered the red tips of the matches as he saw her returning to her apartment, running through the cold. She was dressed in jogging shorts, a top, athletic shoes, and a hoodie. Her dark hair was swept into a ponytail, and she carried a water bottle. She returned from the gym every morning at this time. She was dedicated to keeping her body as hard and fit as it had been when she was a teenager.

She always spent about an hour inside her apartment dressing, then left for work by seven fifteen. He never liked her choice of clothes, which were often peasant tops, jeans, and heels. He understood trends, but his tastes always ran to the classics.

As she fumbled with her keys at the front entryway, he was so tempted to approach her. The more he watched, the greater his desire to own her. He imagined her strapped in his chair and transforming her from beautiful to absolutely perfect.

The process wouldn’t take long. Maybe a few weeks. He’d honed his skills over the years and knew exactly how long the deconstruction and reconstruction process took.

His design for Harmony would be different from Destiny’s. This one would be his dark exotic beauty. He’d been sketching geisha designs as well as Russian nesting dolls for days. He’d yet to decide and knew final choices would be made when he could touch her face with his fingertips.

She would be his little exotic beauty.

Simple. Obedient. Pliable. Perfect.

As he thought about touching Destiny’s cool pale skin, he grew hard. Already he missed Destiny and was sorry now he hadn’t kept her a little longer. Why had he been in such a rush to show her to the world? He should have kept her longer. He ached for her.

The Dollmaker was anxious to begin again. But he had to wait one more day, when this doll was scheduled to take a week at the beach. She’d blocked time away from friends and family. He couldn’t ask for better timing. Just one more day.

He’d be patient, and he’d wait until she’d closed up her apartment and told her friends good-bye, and then he would take her.

And after her week off, it would simply be a matter of sending texts explaining that she was extending her vacation. Some might question. But if he were calm, the texts would buy him precious time. People were easy to fool if you fed them believable lies.

He would not rush this transformation process. He would take exquisite care with Harmony. And he just might keep this doll for a good long time.





CHAPTER TEN


Thursday, October 6, 6:00 a.m.

Andrews glanced up from his computer screen when Bowman appeared with two cups of fresh coffee. “If I had to bet money, I’d say you were here all night,” Bowman said.

Andrews glanced at his watch. “I took a break about three a.m. Went home and grabbed a couple hours of sleep.”

He stood and straightened, unkinking stiff and protesting muscles impaired by scars and nerve damage, which were a constant source of “irritation,” as he called it.

Andrews accepted one of the coffees. “Tastes good.”

“How’s it looking?” Bowman asked.

Andrews glanced at the two dozen stacks of paper piled on the floor around the room. “I’m still sorting. Mr. Knox amassed a great deal of information, but as I said before, he didn’t organize it at all. The man’s mind must be chaos.”

“Any items jump out at you?”

“I’ve not had a chance to read all the interviews closely yet. There are at least fifty witness statements taken from people who either went to school with Kara Benson or who lived near the Benson house. Knox also spoke to several of Roger Benson’s business associates as well as friends of both his wife and Sharp. I’m hoping some kind of pattern materializes.”

“Can you give me the short version of what happened to Kara Benson?”

“She went to a Friday-night Halloween party, and sometime around midnight got into an argument with a female friend and left shortly afterward.” He detailed the search and finally the grim discovery of her body five days later.

Bowman’s fingers tightened around his mug. “How long had she been dead by then?”

“About a day.”

“For four days she was alive and unaccounted for.”

“Correct.”

“What was the condition of the body?”

“When found, she was fully clothed, and there were no signs of trauma on the body.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“I do.” He shoved out a sigh. “These were taken by the officer on the scene. They aren’t the best quality and don’t document the scene adequately, but I can see why Sharp can’t look at these. They would be disturbing for anyone attached to the deceased.”

The photos of Kara Benson showed her lying on her side by the road, wearing a short red dress. Her feet were bare. Many of the pictures were out of focus, but the ones that were readable showed her face turned from the camera.

“You said she was last seen at a Halloween party?” Bowman asked.

“That’s right.”

“Explains the outfit. Were there signs of rape?”

“There were indications of intercourse. Though there was no vaginal bruising or tearing to suggest force.”

“Was semen found?”

“Yes, and it was tested. But when the sample reached the lab, technicians determined it was compromised, so a full DNA panel couldn’t be obtained.”