The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(43)

“What kind of doll was it?” Sharp’s gaze locked on Vargas, who looked up when he said doll.

“One of those old-fashioned types. White face. Heart-shaped lips. Frilly dress. If you saw one, you’d recognize it.”

Sharp’s muscles snapped with interest. “What did you do with the doll?”

Bauer shrugged. “It was in the trash.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Sharp said.

Bauer hesitated. “I took it. It was in perfectly good shape, and it seemed a shame to waste it.”

“Do you still have the doll?”

“I was going to give it to my daughter.”

“We need to see it,” Vargas said. “It might be evidence.”

“But it was in the trash.”

“It’s evidence. I need you to bring it to the station, or I can send a patrolman to your house for it.”

“I get off in a few hours. Send someone by the house.” Bauer rattled off his address. “Can I get it back?”

Sharp shook his head. “If it’s linked to a case as evidence, not until the case has been settled.”

“How long is that?”

“Years,” Vargas shot back.

“Why are you all so worried about a doll?” Ms. Heath asked.

“I can’t say,” Sharp said.

Bauer tossed a glance at Sharp, then headed back to his truck. “I’ll get you the doll.”

Sharp followed and handed him his card. “Thanks.”

As Bauer drove off and Ms. Heath locked the home, Sharp and Vargas moved several paces away before Sharp said, “Recent medication in the cabinet tells me she was being treated for anxiety within the last couple of months.”

“So what was stressing her out?”

“I don’t know if she was having other issues or perhaps figured out someone was watching her and sending her little keepsakes that made her uncomfortable.”

Vargas’s cell phone chimed with a text message. She checked and nodded. “Department of Motor Vehicles just sent over a picture of Diane Richardson without all the crap on her face. Despite it being a DMV photo, she really was a stunning woman. I’d have killed for those cheekbones.”

He accepted the phone and studied the black-and-white photo. Memories stirred in the shadows. “Diane E. Richardson.” He said the name hoping to jostle free a memory.

Vargas checked her notes. “Diane Emery Richardson. Richardson was her married name. She has been divorced four years.”

“Diane Emery?”

“You say her name like you know her.”

Where had he heard the name? And then it clicked. “My sister had a friend in high school and college by the name of Diane Emery.” There’d been four girls that first semester at college who’d all been friends in high school and then in college.

Kara, Diane, Elena, and Tessa.

“Your sister died, right?”

“She died of an overdose. Twelve years ago.” The back of his skull burned with a warning. He’d learned quickly never to ignore the feeling. He dialed Andrews’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“Loading your files into my computer.”

“Andrews, I just identified a murder victim we found in a local park. Her name was Diane Emery Richardson. She was a good friend of my sister, Kara, at the time of her death.”

“I came across her name in several of Knox’s files. He interviewed her twice.”

“Cause of death was a high amount of narcotics in her system via an IV. Her face was tattooed to look like a doll’s.”

Andrews didn’t speak, but Sharp knew he had his full attention.

“Kara had been missing for days before she was found. The crime scene photos I saw were either blurred or didn’t show her face. I’m hoping Knox had other pictures.”

“Witness statements report your sister had been to a Halloween party, and she and several of her friends went dressed as dolls, but your sister was wearing a red dress. One of those friends was Diane Emery.”

Sharp’s heart hammered in his chest. What were the chances Kara and a good friend of hers had died in the same manner? Drug overdoses weren’t unheard of, but his instincts, which had never failed him, said otherwise. And in both cases, there’d been a link to dolls.

“My sister hated dolls,” Sharp said. “Everyone knew she couldn’t stand them. That explains why she wasn’t dressed as one.”

“There was no evidence of tattooing on your sister’s face, nor was there any makeup from what I can see.”

Emotions Sharp had struggled to keep locked away for years clamored for freedom. He shoved them all back into their dark recess and forced his mind to focus. “The cases could be connected.”

After a pause, “Feed me what details you can on your active case. I’ll analyze both cases separately and see if evidence connects.”

“Understood.” The call disconnected. Sharp checked his watch and shoved his phone in his pocket.

“So what was that all about?” Vargas asked.

“I don’t know. I’m going to find Tessa. She knew my sister and Diane Emery.”





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Friday, October 7, 4:00 p.m.