“Just working on something,” Serena said. “This is Special Agent Dominic Allen with the FBI. Dominic, meet Dorie King, a future medical examiner.”
The two exchanged greetings. Dorie started emptying the trash, and Serena asked Dominic, “Should we call Rick?”
He nodded. “I did. He's on his way. Said he'd be about ten minutes. I offered to bring the box over to the lab, but he said he didn't want us handling it any more than necessary.”
“So, what's in there?” Dorie eyed the box, a gleam in her eyes.
Serena bit her lip on a smile. Dorie was going to make an excellent ME one day. With her insatiable curiosity and an eye for details, she had a great career ahead of her.
“Evidence for a case, we believe.” Serena paused. She exchanged a look with Dominic, who gave a slight shake of his red head. Serena said, “I don't think this is something we can share right now, Dorie. Why don't you give us a few minutes?”
Dorie's face dropped, but she said, “Sure, sure. I understand. I've got the rooms down the hall to take care of.” She spun the cart and headed toward the door. Turning back, she asked, “Will thirty or forty-five minutes work?”
“That should be perfect.” Serena smiled her thanks and looked at Dominic. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
Serena walked into her office and pulled out the decaf. As she got the coffeemaker going, Dominic said, “We still haven't talked about Jillian.”
His words made her pause. Hoping he hadn't noticed her hesitation, she said, “What do you want to talk about?”
“You said Jillian asked you some questions the last time you talked to her. What kind of questions?”
She pulled two mugs from the cabinet above the coffeemaker and handed one to Dominic. “She wanted to know about her family. She also wanted to know if I'd seen Colton Brady lately. And she wanted to know about the reunion.”
She wanted to know if I had a safe place to keep some precious information.
Serena debated whether or not to say anything about the package Jillian had sent her and decided it wasn't her place. Jillian trusted her to keep her confidence and Serena would do it as best she could.
Dominic nodded. “And you answered all those questions.”
“I did.”
“Why did she want to know about Colton?”
Serena frowned. “I don't really know.” She tapped her finger against the mug as she thought. “But the summer of our junior year, Jillian was acting . . . weird.”
“Weird? How?”
“She just wasn't around much. Always had an excuse why we couldn't hang out or go to the movies. And then senior year rolled around and she was almost back to normal.”
“What was normal?”
Serena shrugged. “Just always ready to have fun, hang out at my house, go shopping, whatever. Then she got a job and we just never saw her that much unless it was at school.”
“A job doing what?”
“Waiting tables at Mac's on Main Street. Her mother was helping raise Jillian's cousins because Jillian's aunt had been diagnosed with cancer.”
He grimaced. “Ouch. Sorry to hear that.”
“Yes, she died about three months later. So money was tight for them.” Serena rubbed her nose. “And after that, things were different, but still good, you know? Jillian seemed moodier than usual, but that was understandable when you thought about everything her family was going through at the time. Then there was graduation and the party . . .” She shook her head and poured the coffee that had finished dripping. She added her creamer and took a sip. Then said, “I don't know what happened that night, but it had to have been something of mammoth proportions to send her running like she did.”
A knock on the door startled them. Serena turned to see Rick standing there.
She stepped out of her office, Dominic right behind her. “Hey, thanks for coming. I know it's late.”
He yawned, then shrugged. “It's what I do.”
Dominic led them over to the table where they'd left the box. Serena offered Rick a pair of gloves, which he pulled on with a snap. He set his bag on the table and Serena handed him a scalpel to use on the tape.
She reached for the digital camera. “I'll do the pictures.”
“That's fine,” Rick said. “I'll guide you through it. Don't forget to get every fold and document the way the tape was applied.”
Opening the box, Rick reached in and pulled out the doll. Dominic leaned in from the opposite side of the table and Serena shifted to make room for him.
Rick laid the doll on the table beside the box and simply looked at her. “Does she resemble anyone you know?”
“No. She doesn't.” As Serena snapped pictures from every angle, she took in the doll's curly brown hair and green eyes. She thought the black dress with the pearl necklace looked expensive. “She looks like she's dressed for a party.” Serena bit her lip. “If she's supposed to represent someone, I don't have a clue who it could be.”
Dominic sucked in a harsh breath as he ran a hand over his short red curls. “I'm meeting with the task force first thing in the morning. I'll share this information with them and get some feedback. Debbie Sanchez is our profiler. She's amazing. I'm sure she'll have something to say about all this.”
Rick nodded. “Good, I look forward to getting an update from you.” He bit his lip, then pushed it out as he thought.
“Is there a note?” Dominic asked.
Rick looked back in the box, then examined the flaps.
“Yes, right here.” He slipped the note from the tape and opened it. “âEenie meenie miney moe, try to catch me, you're too slow. I saw you once, I'll see you again. Until next time, she's all mine.'”
Serena looked at Dominic. “Does that make any sense at all to you?”
“No. Just sounds like bad poetry to me, but I'm sure there's a
message there somewhere. For someone.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and went quiet. She didn't know if he was thinking or praying. Probably both.
“Okay,” Rick said. “We know he's not the original Doll Maker Killer. That's obvious. We're trying to catch him and he's telling us it's a waste of time to try, because we're too slow. And he's saying he'll see us next time. So, what's his goal? Why leave the notes? Does he want some kind of fame from this?”
“Some people will take fame any way they can get it,” Dominic muttered.
“I know. But if the Doll Maker Killer has a copycat, the person taking over the killings is putting a new twist on things.”
“We know there are some discrepancies, but what have you found?” Serena asked.
“Thus far, if this Doll Maker Killer sticks to his MO, he leaves a doll, a bad poem, and a dead body. This time we have the doll and the poem, so where's the body?”
WEDNESDAY, 6:13 A.M.
That question had haunted Dominic the rest of the night. Rick was right. Where
was
the body? Because as sure as he knew his own name, he knew in his gut there was a dead girl somewhere. If the killer followed the same MO as Leslie, then the doll would look like the victim.
“Eenie meenie miney moe,” he muttered in disgust. Who did he know that had curly brown hair and green eyes?
A lot of people.
He rolled onto his back and did his best to rub the weariness from his eyes. Then he swung his legs around to let them hang off the edge of the bed. For a brief moment, he let his head droop.
God, let me end this day with more answers than I'm starting with, please.
Rising, he grabbed his workout clothes, and headed for the small one car garage he'd turned into a mini weight room. He did his best thinkingâand prayingâhere.
An hour and twelve minutes later, he walked out of his house and headed for the office where he would meet with the task force.
His mind spun with everything they needed to discuss. As the case agent on this, he had to have his facts straight and his A-game on.
Pulling into the station lot, he parked and bowed his head once
more, got his thoughts together, and headed inside the building. As he walked inside, his phone buzzed with an email from Oliver Cook, the IT guy who was going over Howard's computer.
He read, “Computer is from the midnineties and I don't think Howard used it. The hard drive is missing. There's nothing on any of the other drives. And I do mean nothing. They'd never been used. Everything must have been on the hard drive that Howard got rid of. Nothing I can do with this one.”
Dominic frowned. No hard drive? They hadn't found one in Howard's house. What had he done with it? Tossed it in the nearby lake? Buried it? And when? Last year? Whatever he'd done, it was no use looking for it now.
Dominic found the task force team assembled in the conference room. “Good morning, everyone.”
A round of replies greeted him.
He glanced at the clock. 7:45.
Standing at the front of the room, he looked out to see Hunter, Chad, Katie, and his FBI team members. The profiler he'd requested, Debbie Sanchez, sat to his right. A stack of files from Howard's house lay sprawled across the table in the back, spilling onto the floor.
“Here's the latest. So far we haven't come across the Doll Maker Killer's file. Those of you assigned to the files, keep looking. Ballistics stated none of the guns found in Howard's filing cabinet had been used recently, but had been cleaned to the point of perfection.”
“Which means we really don't know if any have been fired recently,” Chad grunted.
“Right.”
“He was ready for trouble?” Hunter asked.
“And expecting it?” Katie chimed.
“Possibly.” Dominic nodded. He looked at Debbie. “You've studied this killer. What do you have?”
Before she could answer, the door opened again and Colton
Brady stepped inside. The beginnings of a beard and faint shadows under his eyes betrayed his recent long hours and little sleep. He looked at Dominic and smiled. “Sorry I'm late. Made a bust about an hour ago and was trying to finish the paperwork.”
“No problem. Thanks for coming.”
Dominic nodded to Debbie. “Go ahead, please.”
While Colton took a seat in the back of the room, Debbie straightened, her dark ponytail swinging behind her. She glanced at her notes and said, “I know about the Doll Maker Killer. I've interviewed him on several occasions. However, I've not had a chance to talk to him about the recent killing that resembles his work. I have an appointment to see him later today.” She drew in a deep breath and looked at Dominic. “Do you know if he took any trophies, like a body part or a piece of jewelry? Anything?”
“We're not aware of anything at this time, no.”
She nodded. “With only one killing to work with, it's hard to say at this moment.”
“Two killings,” Dominic said.
“Two?” Hunter asked.
Everyone straightened at this news. Dominic rubbed the back of his neck and told them about the doll left on his doorstep. Then he read them the note. “I feel sure there's another body out there, we just haven't found her yet.” Murmurs echoed across the room as they processed this new information. Dominic looked at Debbie. “Anything else?”
“No, I'll keep you updated. Right now, I'm in stage one of this investigation. Gathering the information.” She shrugged. “And to be honest, you haven't given me much to go on.”
“I know.” He tapped his chin and asked, “Hunter, what do you and Katie have on the victim, Leslie Stanton?”
Katie took the lead. “Chad and I notified the family. They were shocked, devastated, of course. The mother became hysterical at one point. Finally, after she calmed down a bit, she said she wasn't
aware of anyone in Leslie's life who was upset or angry with her. She said she'd seen Leslie the Thursday before and they'd had dinner together. When they left the restaurant around seven o'clock, Leslie didn't say whether she was meeting someone later or not.”
Chad said, “But Leslie's father said that she called him around 9:00 to confirm a lunch date for the following week.”
Dominic nodded. “Any cameras in the park?”
“No.” Katie took over. “Not in that particular area. We've viewed what footage we have and at one point, two people on a motorcycle drove past, but were soon out of sight.”
“And around 2:00 a.m. there were some partiers that park security had to chase off, but they weren't near the bench where Leslie was found.”
Dominic wrapped up the meeting with more instructions and the order to keep him in the loop.
As everyone filed out, Colton passed him, slapped him on the shoulder, and said, “When you get some time, I need to talk to you.”
“Something about the case?”
“No, personal.”
“You have my number. Give me a call and we'll set something up.”
Dominic and Colton hadn't been exactly friends in high school simply because they hung out with different crowds, but Colton had always been friendly, with a level head on his shoulders. At least that was how it seemed to Dominic.
Colton nodded and Dominic asked, “Wait a minute, while I have you, I want to ask you a question.”
“Sure.”
Dominic motioned Colton back into the empty conference room. The detective lifted a brow but followed without question. “What is it?”
“I talked to Serena and she said that Jillian Carter, one of her old friends from high school, called her a few weeks ago.”
Colton went rigid, his jaw tightening, nostrils flaring. Then his face went blank. “And?”
“She asked about you.”
The blank expression never changed. “Why would she do that?”
“That's what I'd like to know.” He considered the man before him and knew he was one of the best detectives on the force. An outstanding one. He was also a man of integrity with a high work ethic. “One thing we've managed to keep from the press is that in the midst of this serial killer mess, the person after Serena is really after Jillian.”
Worry flashed in Colton's eyes. “He is? Why?”
“We don't know. Alexia couldn't figure it out and now Serena's puzzled. They both agree it probably had something to do with whatever happened graduation night that sent her running scared.”
“Wait a minute.” Colton lifted a hand. “What happened graduation night? I thought she just . . . left town.”
“She did, but before she left, she told Serena and Alexia whatever she saw could get her killed. And if she told them, they would be targets too. They gave her some money and she bolted.”
Colton's face went white. He pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “I didn't know. I thought . . .”
“What?”
“It's been ten years and I still can't forget her.” Colton fisted his hand and slammed it onto the desk in front of him.
Dominic leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. “What are you talking about? Give me details.”
Colton lifted his eyes and Dominic winced at the pain glittering in them. “I was in love with her in high school. I wanted to marry her.”
“Serena didn't tell me that.”
A harsh laugh slipped from the detective. “That's because Serena didn't know.” He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Jillian and I kept our relationship a secret because of my family.
They never would have approved of her.” He shrugged. “I didn't care about her background, but she did. Said she didn't want to embarrass me.” He gave a wry smile. “I promised her I wasn't embarrassed and that my family would come around. But she said she wouldn't date me if there was any chance that it would mess up my relationship with my parents.”
“Your parents expected you to date someone more fitting of their social class? People still have those kinds of hang-ups?”
“Yeah. At least my parents did.” Colton shrugged. “My parents were very clear about their expectations. I was to go to law school and join my father's practice. I was to only date or marry someone they approved of. Very . . . old school, they would say. I just call them snobs.”
Dominic lifted a brow. “I see how well that plan worked out.”
“Yep.” A glimmer of a smile reached the man's eyes, then faded. “I love them, but I'm my own man, and if they don't like it, I'm sorry, that's just the way it is.” He rubbed his head and his gaze hardened. “Unfortunately, they don't like it much.” He blew out a breath. “Jillian left town and I haven't heard from her in ten years. No goodbye, no letter, nothing. I was afraid she'd been killed or kidnapped or something. But when I went to her house looking for her, her mother showed me a letter Jillian left. It just said, âI have to go. I love you.'”
“That's it?”
“Yeah. So, I decided to find her on my own. I went to college, started walking the path my parents had laid out for me, but I . . . became obsessed with finding Jillian. I quit school, went to the academy, and became a cop.” He smirked. “Much to my parents' horror. Then I became a detective.” He shut his eyes and rubbed them. “And I still haven't found her.”
Dominic blew out a sigh. “Well, that explains why she would ask Serena about you.”
Colton stood, a determined light now shining in his gaze. “You
don't have to call me now. Jillian was what I wanted to talk about, but sounds like I need to talk to Serena.”
“I can tell you right now, she doesn't know where Jillian is. She said Jillian called, asked a few questions, and said she'd be coming home soon, that she had things she needed to take care of.”
The light dimmed. “Tell Serena I want to know the minute she hears from Jillian. I have a few things to take care of myself.”
Colton turned on his heel and exited the conference room. Dominic watched the man go, then noticed Hunter and Katie lingering in the hallway. “What's up?” he asked them.
“Any word on the package left on your doorstep?” Hunter asked.
“No, Rick said he'd call me if he found anything he hadn't already told me. The dolls are handmade, carved, sanded, painted, and dressed with handmade items.”
Katie's brows drew together. “Is it a special kind of wood or . . . ?”
Dominic shook his head. “It's a soft balsa wood. Very common and found at any home improvement store.”
“So the killer may fancy himself as some kind of artist.” Katie pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.
Dominic touched her shoulder, concerned. “You okay?”
She grimaced and dropped her hand. “Yes. Just a bit of a headache.”
“You need some time off? It hasn't been that long since you were shot.”
She straightened her shoulders, her posture defensive. “I'm fine. What else needs to be done?”
Hunter said, “This guy may have some artistic talent, but all the handmade stuff could be that he just wants to make sure he's not leaving a trail behind. Common wood, no store-bought clothes.”
Katie nodded. “But store-bought fabric. He has to get the fabric from somewhere to make the clothes, right?”
Dominic rubbed the side of his nose. “True. That might be a
good place to start. Katie, you want to talk to Rick and see if he can come up with some ideas of where the fabric may have come from? You know, is it fancy stuff sold only in upscale fabric stores, or is it something we can't trace because it came from a local chain?”
“Sure. I'm on it.”
“Thanks.” She headed off and Hunter glanced at his watch. Dominic asked, “You need to be somewhere?”
“Not yet.” Hunter rubbed his hands together, then shoved them in his pockets.
Dominic frowned. “You're nervous about something. What is it?”
Hunter blew out a deep breath, looked up the hallway, then back down. He leaned in close. “I'm meeting Alexia for lunch.”
“Yeah? So?”
“And . . . uh . . . we're going to . . . uh . . . a store.”
“A store.”
“Right.”
Suspicion hit him. “And what store would that be?”
Hunter rocked back on his heels, then grinned, nervousness fading to be replaced by glee. “Reed's.”
“Reed's. As in . . . ?” He tapped his ring finger on his left hand.
“Yep. As in.”
“She's not a diamond kind of girl,” Dominic said.
Hunter pursed his lips. “I think I'm aware of that, thanks.”
“Go with a pearl engagement ring and you'll nail it.”
“She said a small one, nothing fancy.”
Dominic hesitated. “I'd go somewhere in between.”
Hunter let out another breath. “Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Thanks.”
Dominic slapped the man on the back. “Now let's go see if we can find this killer before your lunch date.”