The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(55)

“Would you be willing to meet with Andrews at Shield?” Dakota asked.

She rose, hitching her purse on her shoulder. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

He followed her to the door, which he reached before her. He gripped the knob but didn’t open it. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

So close, and yet the distance between them felt endless.

“Why did you kiss me the other day?” he asked suddenly.

“Why?” Good, he’d been thinking about the kiss. “Because I’ve dreamed about it for months. I wanted to see if you tasted like I remembered.”

“Nothing’s changed, Tessa,” he warned. “I can promise you we’d be great in the sack and terrible out of it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not going to chase you, Dakota. If you want this marriage, you’ll have to meet me halfway. But I’m not going anywhere this time.”

A frown wrinkled his brow. She sensed he wanted her. The marriage. She leaned slightly toward him to make it easier for him to touch her.

Instead, he opened the door with a snap. “I’ll think about it.”

She straightened as the night air chilled her skin. “Right.”

“Tessa?”

“Yes.”

“Be careful. Keep your eyes open.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dakota. I can take care of myself.”




The woman woke up in stages. It took time to shake off the smothering fatigue weighing on her like bricks pressing against her chest. When she opened her eyes, her vision was clouded, and she had to blink several times for it to clear. Finally, a white ceiling. She blinked again, pushing away another wave of tiredness ready to pull her back to sleep. She shook her head, grimacing at the dull headache behind her left eye. Think. What happened?

She remembered walking home. She’d been tired and ready to call it a night. And then, there’d been the man on the sidewalk. Smiling. Charming. She thought she might know him. And then a sting of electricity before her mind went blank.

Her heart beat a little faster as she thought about the memory, hoping it was a dream. Gathering her tattered energy, she tried to sit up. Her head spun, and for a moment she closed her eyes and waited for the world to settle. Finally, she glanced at her chest and the white cotton nightdress with fine lace and wondered where it came from. It wasn’t hers.

Searching the room, she saw only simple white walls. There was the chair where she lay but no other furniture. No window. Only a door. She pushed off her covers and swung her feet to the cold tile floor. She tried to stand, but her legs wobbled. Seconds passed as she steadied herself. And then, straightening her shoulders, she shuffled to the door, tottering much like a novice sailor trying to find her sea legs.

She tried the door handle and discovered it was locked. She twisted it again. And again. It didn’t open. Her panic growing, she called out, “Help! Where am I?”

She strained to hear an answer, but she heard only the silence and the beat of her thudding heart. Keys jangled on the other side of the door.

“Help me, please!” A key rattled in the lock, and she automatically ran a trembling hand over her head. Instead of hair, she felt only smooth skin. Both hands shot to her scalp and eyebrows, and she realized not one wisp of hair remained.

Frantic, she stared at her arms and legs and realized in horror there was no hair. She grabbed the folds of the nightgown and saw her pubic hair was gone. There wasn’t one strand of hair on her body.

The door handle twisted, and she staggered in fear. As much as she prayed a savior had arrived, she knew whoever was there was evil.

Hinges swung silently open to reveal a man carrying a tray of soup and crackers. “Good, you’re awake, Harmony. I need for you to eat.”

Anger mingled with fear. “My name isn’t Harmony.”

“It is now, Harmony.”

“No.”

“It’s time to eat,” he said. The matter was closed.

“I don’t want to eat. I want to get out of here.”

“You have to eat,” he said gently. “If not, I’ll have to force-feed you, and you won’t like it.”

She touched her bald head with trembling fingers. “What happened to my hair?”

He set the tray on the edge of her bed. “I removed it all, of course, Harmony.”

Tears pooled in her eyes as an overwhelming sense of loss and hopelessness washed over her. “Why?”

He twisted his lips into what he must have imagined was a friendly smile. “I need a blank canvas to work with.”

“What do you mean?” She teetered, her head spinning from standing.

He placed his hand under her elbow, catching her before she stumbled. With care, he walked her back to the bed and helped her sit. He smoothed his hand over her lips. “You need to eat and take care of yourself.”

Her stomach grumbled and her vision blurred again. The smell of the soup was making her hungry. She ignored the hunger pangs, fearing more drugs. “I’m not eating.”

“You’ve not eaten in two days. You need your energy.”

“Two days?” Heart racing from fatigue, she scanned the plain white room, knowing without a clock or a window she had only him to rely on to mark the time. “People will miss me. They’ll call the police.”