The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(97)

“Yeah. I was at the party. We danced,” he lied.

“We did?”

He hurried up to her as she shifted and caught her before she fell. “Are you okay?”

“I’m a little drunk,” she said with a giggle.

“It’s okay. You want me to take you home?”

“Would you? That would be great.”

So trusting. He led her back to his van and opened the front passenger door for her. He helped her sit and fastened her seat belt. “Buckle up.”

She giggled. “This is so nice of you. I’m more messed up than I thought.”

“I know. But don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

He closed the door and rushed around to the driver’s side. His body buzzed with excitement. As he turned on the engine, she melted into the seat with no hint of worry. Her head tipped back against the headrest, and her eyes closed.

So still. So perfect.

“Kara? You okay?”

“Yes,” she said without opening her eyes. “I just need to rest my eyes.”

“Sleep. It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

When he pulled up in front of his small house, she was still sleeping. He hustled around the front of the van, glancing around to make sure none of his neighbors’ lights were on. He quietly opened her door, unbuckled her seat belt, and lifted her in his arms. She was so light. So small. Her head slumped against his shoulder, and he knew he was in love.

He carried her into the basement and laid her on a worn red sofa. He pulled up a chair and sat in front of the couch, admiring his future creation.

When she awoke, he was sorry to see her eyes flutter open. But he was ready with a soda laced with drugs.

“Where am I?” she asked, pushing into a sitting position. Worry sharpened her gaze.

“My place. You forgot to tell me where you lived.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Here, drink this. It’ll settle your stomach.”

“Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever drank that much.” She sipped from the straw.

“It happens.”

“Never to me before.”

She sipped more, but within minutes her eyes were blinking slowly. He took the soda can before she dropped it.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

And she was asleep again. “Such a perfect little doll.”

He hadn’t been able to resist making up her face. She was dressed like a doll, but her face was all wrong. When she awoke again, she was shocked to see her face. He had to force her to drink more of the soda this time. He was never proud that he’d had to restrain her, but this was his first doll. He was still learning all the nuances of his artwork. During the four days that he kept her, he didn’t realize the acute effect of alcohol on the narcotic he was feeding her. He didn’t mean to overdose her.

When she stopped breathing, he tried to revive her, but was unsuccessful. He kept her lifeless body a few more hours, then knew the time had come to bundle her in a blanket and give her back. When he put her in the back of his van and drove across town, he was terrified.

He passed the chief, who recognized him. But he smiled as he gripped the wheel.

His first doll had taught him many lessons. The first had been that makeup didn’t last. When he’d seen her in her casket, he had been devastated to see her skin scrubbed clean. His art had been destroyed.

So he’d learned the art of tattooing. The next three women after her, the practice dolls, weren’t nearly as special. They were cheap imitations of Kara. He’d used them to hone his skills.

His perfect doll was Diane, but he’d let her go too soon. And then Elena had slipped her restraints. And his temper had gotten the better of him.

But there was still Tessa, his Serenity. She was the sweetest of all the dolls. She deserved his best work and his love. And this time he would not let her slip from his grasp. They could have years of bliss together.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


Thursday, October 13, 7:30 a.m.

The Elena Hayes autopsy was the first on the day’s schedule, and Tessa knew she’d be assisting Dr. Kincaid. Veronica Hayes had visited the medical examiner’s office yesterday, and it had been heart-wrenching as she’d stared at what was left of her sister’s face. Veronica had reached out to Elena’s arm but couldn’t bring herself to touch her.

“What kind of sick bastard would do this to her?” Veronica had asked.

Even now as Tessa and Dr. Kincaid did their morning rounds, Veronica’s words were never far.

“I said, are you ready to discuss this patient?” Dr. Kincaid asked.

Tessa looked up. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Dr. Kincaid opened a refrigerated door and glanced at the face of an attractive man who had been in the prime of his life until last night, when he’d gripped his chest after a meal of organic vegetables and free-range meat and dropped to the floor. He’d been an avid runner and had no history of smoking. “What about his family history?”

Tessa glanced at her notes. “He did have an uncle who had a heart attack at forty-five. The uncle survived. His wife said he’s never complained of heart trouble.”

“What kind of medicines was he taking?”