The Dollmake (The Forgotten Files 2)

Sharp didn’t need a medical examiner to tell him the knife wound had been devastatingly efficient and had ended his life swiftly. “He did not suffer.”

She folded her face into her hands and wept. “My poor baby. How did he die?”

“The medical examiner will make the final determination.”

Henry glanced up at Sharp, his gaze full of fury. “Who did this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Sharp stood still. “I know this isn’t a good time, but I need to ask you some questions about Terrance.”

Henry’s gaze darkened. “Can you just leave her be? Shit, she’s crushed.”

Mrs. Jones shook her head and looked up with tears in her eyes. “It’s okay. I owe it to Terry to tell what I can. Agent Sharp, go ahead and ask me any question.”

Sharp took the seat beside her. “I understand you filed a missing persons report on Monday morning.”

“We were expecting him home by eleven on Sunday. He’d been out with friends and said he was on his way home when he got a line on a job with the maintenance company that gives him work from time to time. We needed the money, so I let him stay out longer.”

“What was the job?”

“I just assumed it was Mr. Ralph Dobbins. He owns Dobbins Maintenance. Terry worked there part-time last summer. Had to quit for football practice and school.”

Sharp scribbled down the information. “Do you know where he was calling from?”

“He said he was outside the Quick Mart on Route 1.”

“What time was that?”

“Just after nine on Sunday night.” Her voice cracked, and more tears pooled in her eyes. “I thought the job was cleaning out an office building or hauling trash. I should have known it was trouble. Who offers a boy a job on a Sunday night? I should have told him to come home.”

Henry raised his chin. “Terry was a good kid. Straight arrow. He worked for a friend of mine last summer, and I heard he was a hard worker.”

“When’s the last time you saw Terrance?”

Henry shrugged. “It’s been about a week. I owned a lawn business in Nashville, and I didn’t get up here much. I only just moved back a couple of months ago.”

“Why’d you move back?” Sharp asked.

“The work dried up in Nashville. Hoping to get more here.”

“I have twenty-six grandchildren,” Mrs. Jones said. “It’s getting harder and harder to get them together.”

Henry shook his head. “Grandma raised him right despite his no-account daddy, but I should’ve helped more.”

“Mrs. Jones, I understand he’d just gotten money from you for his birthday,” Sharp coaxed.

Henry nodded. “Twenty dollars.”

“Was my boy robbed and killed for twenty dollars?” Mrs. Jones asked.

“I don’t know. You said his father was in and out of prison? Is he currently incarcerated?”

“Jimmy’s out,” Henry said. “He’s been out over a month.”

Mrs. Jones’s jaw tightened. “He should be rotting in jail.”

“What’s his father’s full name?” Sharp asked.

Henry glanced at his grandmother. “James Tyler Dillon. Jimmy to everyone.”

“Have either of you seen him at all since his release?”

“No,” Mrs. Jones said. “He knows I’d get my double-barreled shotgun handy, and I will shoot him if he shows up on my property.”

Henry shook his head. “I saw him on Saturday in town. He came by my new shop looking for Terrance.”

“You never told me,” she said.

“I didn’t want to upset you. I know how you feel about him. I told him Terrance had missed having him around all these years.”

Mrs. Jones wiped a tear from her cheek. “You should have told me. I’d have tracked him down and run him out of town.”

“Grandma don’t mean that,” Henry said to Sharp.

“Did you tell Terrance about the visit?” Sharp asked.

“I didn’t want to, but I knew Terry had always wanted to know his daddy better. I shouldn’t have, but I called and told him.”

“And what did the boy do?” Sharp asked.

“Jimmy left a number for Terry to call him, and I gave it to Terry. I don’t know what he did with the number.”

“Henry!” Mrs. Jones said. “What the hell were you thinking? Jimmy is the devil!”

Henry nodded, his face tight with grief. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is Jimmy Dillon now?” Sharp interjected.

“I don’t know,” Henry said. “He took off again. I called him when we couldn’t find Terrance, but he never called back. He does that. Comes and goes like a cat.”

“He runs from trouble,” Mrs. Jones said.

“Do you know if Terrance called his father?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said. “What about the job Terry told Grandma about?” Henry challenged. “Whoever offered him a job might have hurt him.”

“I’ll go to the Quick Mart after I leave here and see if they have Terrance on surveillance tape. Do you know if Jimmy Dillon has a job?”

Edith shook her head, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “Selling drugs, no doubt. He was in prison for dealing.”

“Jimmy wasn’t a great father,” Henry said. “But I know he loved that boy.”

“The people Jimmy hangs out with wouldn’t care a bit about Terry,” Mrs. Jones said. “Jimmy has no sense. Always thinks every situation will work out.”

“Do you know the name of any of Jimmy’s associates?” Sharp asked.

Both shook their heads, but Mrs. Jones was the first to speak. “We try and stay clear of any dealings to do with Jimmy.”

“What about Terrance’s friends? What were they like?”

“All good boys. Ronnie and Garcia were his best friends. All three of ’em would rather play football than eat.” She rattled off their full names.

Sharp noted the names. “Do you know where I can find these kids?”

“In school, no doubt,” Mrs. Jones said. “And after school the football field for practice.” The old woman leaned forward, pinning Sharp with a surprisingly piercing gaze. “You’re going to find out who killed my boy.”

“I’m going to do my best, ma’am.” As much as he wanted to promise justice, cases like this didn’t always end in arrest. He handed Mrs. Jones and Henry cards with his contact information. “If you think of anything else, call me. And I’ll call you if any new information comes up.”

Mrs. Jones clutched his card tightly in her hand. “Thank you, Agent Sharp. I know you’re going to find out.”

Tension banded Sharp’s lower back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I need to know why,” she said. “Why would someone hurt such a good boy?”

“I want to know that, too,” Sharp said. “I want this killer caught.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“No, ma’am.”

Henry walked him to the door, and he passed another collection of pictures featuring Terrance smiling and holding a football. “Is it smart for Grandma to get her hopes up? I know how it goes. The killer isn’t always found.”

The screen door squeaked as Sharp pushed it open. He imagined this same scene playing out twelve years ago with Roger and his mother.

There wasn’t a hole deep enough for this killer to crawl into. “I’m going to turn this place upside down looking for an answer.”

Henry flexed tense fingers at his side. “That would be real good.”

Sharp shook hands with the man and moved to his car. Once inside, he reached for a cigarette. He fumbled with the rumpled package, cursing when he realized it was empty. Crushing it, he tossed the packet onto the passenger seat and started the engine. He promised to give the damn habit up before it killed him. Soon.

He drove across the small town to the Quick Mart on Route 1. The store appeared to have been a part of a larger chain store at one point and then converted into a local business. A couple of car

s filled the small parking lot.

Inside, Sharp moved to the register and showed his badge to a tall gawky kid. “I need to see the manager.”

“Yeah, sure.” The kid rushed around the counter toward the back of the store. Seconds later a heavyset man in his late forties ambled out. He wore a short-sleeved shirt emphasizing arms covered in tattoos.

As the kid returned to the register, Sharp again showed his badge. “I’m Agent Sharp with the Virginia State Police. I’m investigating a murder, and I was hoping you have surveillance footage from Sunday night at about eleven.”

The manager gave Sharp a long, pondering look as he slowly shook his head. “Tell me it ain’t Miss Edith’s grandson. She’s been looking for Terrance since Sunday.”

“We found him. He’s dead.”

The manager jabbed thick fingers through thinning hair. “Shit.”

“The surveillance tape?”

“Yeah, sure. We keep the recordings backed up to a hard drive for thirty days. Come on back in the office.”