The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(53)

“She sent a text to her boss three weeks ago and quit her job.”

“She sent a text? No one spoke to her?”

“Correct. The text did come from her phone, which is no longer pinging off any cell tower, so the battery is either dead or the chip smashed.”

“Whoever this guy is, he thought it out carefully.”

“Yeah. A lot of time and effort.”

The front bell rang. Sharp shook off his frustration, moved to the door, and opened it. To Tessa.

For a split second he stood frozen, questioning, wondering why she was here. He’d left it badly between them today. Pissed, irritated, tired, hurting. All the shit he could handle most days. But it percolated to the surface when she was close. She had a way of shredding his nerves with the slightest look.

Tessa was dressed in jeans, a sweater, and boots. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. Damn. He wanted to touch her.

“I have pictures.” Her tone was flat, guarded. “You asked for pictures.”

His hand gripped the side of the door. “Right.”

She handed him the packet. “These were developed while I was in the hospital after my accident. I didn’t remember them, but found them when I went to my aunt’s house. As you go through them, let me know if you have any questions. I’ll fill in the gaps.”

He set his beer aside and took the envelope. When she turned to leave, he asked, “How about now?”

“What?”

“Fill in the gaps now. My buddy McLean is here. Grilling steaks.” He stepped aside. “Come on in. Maybe you’ll recall some details that will be of use. And I bet you haven’t eaten.”

She tightened her hand on the strap of her purse. “Sure. I’ll stay for a few minutes.”

He released the door and stepped aside so she could pass. As she walked past him, he caught the jasmine scent. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Thanks, but no, I’m fine.”

“Steaks are done,” McLean said. He froze midstep when he saw Tessa. He set the sizzling platter of steaks on the kitchen counter.

Seeing him, she smiled. “Hi, I’m Tessa.”

“Tessa, as in Sharp’s wife.”

She stilled and kept her gaze on McLean. “That’s right.”

“Jacob McLean,” he said, extending his hand as his grin widened.

“McLean interviewed with Shield Security,” Sharp said.

“That’s great,” she said.

McLean clapped his hands. “Tessa doesn’t want to hear about my career. But she looks hungry.”

“No, I really can’t stay,” she said.

“Won’t take no for an answer,” McLean said.

She looked at Sharp, clearly unsure.

“Stay,” Sharp said.

Her fingers tightened again on the purse strap. “Sure.”

McLean turned to Sharp. “Get the lovely lady a beer.”

“Right,” Sharp said.

As he moved into the kitchen to get a beer, he heard McLean say, “Sharp doesn’t bite. At least I don’t think he does.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Friday, October 7, 9:45 p.m.

“What pictures did you bring?” Dakota asked.

Leave it to him to keep the target in his sights. Work came first. But she wasn’t angry. He was who he was. “They’re all taken the night of the Halloween party.”

“What can you recall about that night?” Dakota asked.

“I don’t remember anything. My memory was wiped for the few days leading up to the accident. I wasn’t even sure these pictures still existed until I found them at my aunt’s house tonight.” She dug her fingernail into the label on her beer bottle. “I saw my cousin Holly, and she remembers that Kara and I had a fight. She said I was walking back to the dorm early. A few minutes later, I was tagged by a car.”

He laid his fork and knife down. “I always wondered how you could just step into traffic. You’re one of the most alert people I know.”

“Everyone gets tired, I suppose. And I must have been distracted by the fight.”

“I always assumed you were drunk,” Dakota challenged.

“Thanks a lot.”

“It was college, Tessa. Kids do stupid things.”

“I never got that stupid.”

“Do you think your drink could have been drugged?” McLean asked.

“I never considered that.”

“Why not?” Dakota asked.

“I don’t know. I was at a party with friends. I thought I was in a safe place.”

“Not friends. Acquaintances,” Dakota said. “Were you drinking draft beer?”

“I assume so. But I was never a big drinker.” She and Dakota had talked about the accident before, but never in great detail.

McLean groaned. “It makes sense. I’d bet money someone slipped a roofie in her drink.”

She’d always attributed the car accident to her own distracted thinking. But what if she’d been drugged?

Dakota balled up his napkin and tossed it on the table beside his plate. “Do you remember what Kara was drinking?”

“Beer, I suppose. Like I’ve told you before, I have no memory of the night. The concussion wiped out about three days’ worth of memories.”