The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(54)

“Who gave the party?” Dakota asked.

“My aunt told me later it was at someone’s house near the cemetery. I did go back later when my leg was healing. It was near the graveyard. I suppose that made sense for a Halloween party.”

“Who owned the house?”

“I don’t know. I never asked. But I do remember where it was. It won’t be hard to trace.”

He tapped his finger on the table. When they’d been together and he’d worn his wedding band, the clink, clink of the ring on the table meant a case bothered him. She could tell by the speed and rhythm of the clinks if the case was going well or not.

“I saw Stanford Madison tonight,” he said. “Did you know he was dating Diane Richardson?”

“I did not know that.”

“Tell me about Madison,” Dakota said.

“I had kind of a crush on him in college. I told Kara. She thought it was sweet.” A memory rose out of the shadows. “I remember them at the Halloween party. They were kissing.” She frowned. “That must be why I left.”

Dakota studied her a beat. “Why didn’t you ever talk about him to me?”

“Because he was a college crush and a friend after my accident. He visited me a few times that semester I had to drop out, and then we lost touch.”

McLean rose and moved to the envelope Tessa brought. “Tell us about the pictures?” he asked.

Relieved to look away, she rose and laid the pictures out like playing cards. “They were all taken the night of the Halloween party. Kara wore a red dress. The rest of us were dressed as dolls.”

“Dolls,” Dakota said.

“Yes. It was kind of a lark at the time, but now that I look at them, I get chills.”

Dakota leaned forward and for a long moment stared at the images. “Did you run into anyone that night that you thought might be trouble? Was there anyone interested in Kara, you, or the other girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did Knox ever interview you?” Dakota asked. “He said he talked to everyone who knew Kara.”

“He did. It was later, though. I was a junior in college, and he caught up to me as I was coming out of the library.”

“What did he ask you about?”

“He wanted to know about that night Kara vanished. I couldn’t tell him anything.”

“What else?”

“Did I notice if anyone was hanging around the dorm in the weeks before the party.”

“And?”

“No one that I remembered. But . . .” A detail long forgotten focused. “Someone did send her flowers.”

“When?”

“A couple of weeks before the party.”

“Who sent them?”

“There wasn’t a card on the flowers. I remember they were purple irises and were in a pretty vase by our dorm room door.”

“How do you know they were for Kara?” McLean asked.

“I just assumed. I didn’t know anyone that would send me flowers.”

Dakota tapped his finger on the pictures, clearly struggling to control his anger over Kara’s unsolved murder.

“The point I need to make, Dakota, is that Holly remembers Elena Hayes at Kara’s funeral. Holly says that Elena and her sister found Kara on the road. They said when they found her, she had makeup on her face.”

“She remembers that specific detail?” Dakota challenged.

“She has a photographic memory. If Holly remembers, it happened.”

Dakota stared at her, his face an unreadable mask.

“If you want more details, talk to Elena Hayes. She was the fourth girl in the picture. She was living abroad for a couple of years, but I saw in one of the alumni magazines that she was back in Richmond. I know the cops interviewed her after Kara was found, as they did me. She might have been afraid to talk more candidly then. Her father was strict and would have punished her if he’d known she’d been at a party drinking with a bunch of strangers.”

“I’ll talk to Vargas, and we’ll go see her,” Dakota said. “Anyone strike you as odd at the funeral or in the days leading up to the party?”

“At the funeral, I was on pain meds and couldn’t stay long. I spoke to your mother. She was sweet but so overwhelmed. Your stepfather was also a mess.”

Dakota tapped his index finger on the table, and she sensed he was struggling to remain objective. “Diane’s mother said she was vain. She was convinced she’d never ruin her face.”

“She wasn’t stuck-up about her looks in college, but she was conscious of them. And I agree, unless there was a really drastic change in her mental makeup, she wouldn’t have disfigured herself.”

Tessa stared at the pictures of Kara, Diane, Elena, and herself. Pathologists, like cops, could distance themselves from death so they could effectively analyze the chain of evidence. But she found it nearly impossible now.

Dakota reached for his phone, took snapshots of the images, and sent them off.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Sending them to Garrett Andrews at Shield Security. If anyone can pull a detail out of these, it’s him.”

Fatigue had seeped deep into Tessa’s bones. She’d be no good at work tomorrow if she didn’t get some sleep. “I’ve got to get going,” Tessa said. “I’ve an early call in the morning. Let me know if I can help.”