The Dollmake (The Forgotten Files 2)

“Run her prints as soon as you can,” he said.

She looked at him, realizing how all these years of never really accepting the cause of Kara’s death had not been off base. Knowing he’d carried this burden tore at her heart. “If this is Elena, she’s the second of Kara’s friends to die.”

The lines around his eyes and mouth furrowed deeper. “Think about the picture taken of the four of you at the party, Tessa. Kara was far left, next Diane, then Elena, and you’re on the end at the far right. If this is Elena, he’s working his way across the photo.”

The four of them were the target of a killer? Nearly impossible to grasp, but she trusted Dakota. “Jesus. Why us?”

“Hell if I know.” His words were clipped with anger and frustration. “I’m going to tell the uniform to stick to you like glue now.”

One thing to theorize but another to tie up patrol officers. “Most of my day is spent in the medical examiner’s office or surrounded by cops. It doesn’t feel right having some officer follow me around.”

“I’m not arguing this point.”

“I made it to Southeast Asia and survived the jungles without an issue. I can get by in Richmond.”

“Your team in Vietnam also had security attached to your detail twenty-four/seven.”

“How do you know?”

“I checked.”

“You checked? With who?”

“I still have contacts.”

He’d been checking up on her while she was away. “I’m touched.”

He showed no hints of emotion. “You get a guard.”

Easier to move a mountain when his expression hardened like this. “Sure. Fine.”

As she turned to leave, he took her arm. His fingers clamped warm, gentle, and unyielding around her arm. “I’m not doing this to be a hard-ass. You have to see that we’re dealing with someone that’s clever and dangerous.”

She lowered her gaze to his fingers. She liked his touch. Wished he could pull her into an embrace and tell her that this was all a horrible nightmare. “I understand.”

Sharp and Vargas met Veronica Hayes at the medical examiner’s office. She sat in the waiting room, her back straight, her hands gripping a handbag that likely cost more than he made in a month.

“Ms. Hayes,” he said.

At the sound of his voice, Veronica rose and faced them. Three-inch heels put her at eye level with Sharp. Dark hair draped her shoulders, and a white blouse and a fitted pencil skirt showed off her trim frame. “Why am I here?”

Vargas ignored the question by asking, “Did Elena like dolls?”

The question caught Veronica off guard. “She’s a little old for dolls, don’t you think? Why do you ask?”

“We found one in her apartment when we searched the place,” Sharp said.

Veronica squared her shoulders. “I don’t know what you found, but it wasn’t hers. Dolls are not her style.”

“Did she mention seeing anyone recently that she might have crossed paths with in college?”

Veronica glanced at her phone. “No.”

A local boy. “Anyone she might have seen recently?” Sharp asked.

Her brow wrinkled with a frown. “We were in a new restaurant near the Boulevard and Cary Street intersection. What was it called? I remember. Island View. There was a guy. He spoke with her as she was coming out of the ladies’ room. They talked for several minutes. She didn’t recognize him, but she said he knew her. She said it was a little weird not to recognize someone who remembered you so well.”

“Do you have a name?” Sharp asked.

“No. I didn’t ask and she didn’t offer.”

His phone buzzed with a text from Tessa. It read: The body has been identified as Elena Hayes. He texted back, Understood.

As he raised his gaze, he realized Veronica was watching him closely. “Ms. Hayes, I don’t have good news.”

Vargas tossed him a glance, her face hardening with understanding.

Tears sparkled in Veronica’s eyes as she held up the phone. “We just need to give Elena more time to call back. She’s on some beach soaking up the rays.”

“We asked you here because we strongly suspected that the body of a woman brought in a couple of hours ago is your sister. Our office just confirmed this as true.”

“You’ve made a mistake. How did she die?” Veronica challenged.

“The medical examiner will make the final call on that.”

“The final call. How could you not know?” She took a step back, pressing her fingertips to her closed eyes. “This just makes no sense.”

Vargas handed Veronica a tissue from a small packet she kept in her jacket pocket. “I know this is horrible, but we have to know as much as we can about this man who recognized her.”

“Do you think it was this guy who hurt her?” she asked. “Would he be so bold?”

“Some killers find it exciting to hide in plain sight. Stalking their victims is also part of the thrill and the chase,” Vargas said.

“Stalk?” Her voice cracked. “This is a nightmare.”

In the moments after he’d been told about Kara’s death, he’d felt gut punched and had been sick to his stomach. He’d been unable to process much as he went to his CO and told him. It had been weeks before the marines allowed him to leave the front line.

“I want to see this woman you keep talking about,” Veronica said. “I need to prove you’re making a mistake.”

“Her face might not be what you’re expecting,” Sharp said.

A tear spilled and melted Veronica’s well-made-up face. “I want to see this woman.”

Sharp nodded. “Let me make a call.” He moved away from the two and dialed Tessa’s number. She answered on the second ring. “I have Veronica Hayes here. She wants to see her sister.”

“Give us a couple of minutes and we’ll get her ready for viewing. I’l

l come get you.”

“Thanks.”

Sharp returned to Vargas standing next to a defiant Veronica, who was impatiently tapping her foot. “Just a couple of minutes.”

“You’re wrong,” Veronica said. “Very wrong.”

“Would you be willing to meet with a police sketch artist?” Sharp said. “You might be able to create an image of this man you saw in the restaurant.”

“It was a month ago, and I really only saw him in profile.”

“It can’t hurt,” Vargas said.

Doors opened to Dr. Kincaid and Tessa dressed in scrubs. Dr. Kincaid introduced herself and Tessa to Veronica.

Veronica looked at Tessa. “I know you.”

“I went to college with your sister.”

“You lived in town, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve seen my sister?” Veronica asked.

“Yes.”

“Is it her?”

“Yes,” Tessa said.

“You’re wrong,” Veronica said. “How long has it been since you two saw each other? Twelve years?”

“If you’ll follow me, Ms. Hayes,” Dr. Kincaid interjected.

Shaking her head again, Veronica followed, her high heels clipping the tiled floor in firm taps. They entered an exam room. No instruments were on display, and the stainless-steel sinks glistened. In the center of the room was a gurney and on it a draped body.

Veronica stopped in her tracks, her body stiffening.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dr. Kincaid asked. “We made a positive identification from her fingerprints.”

“I need to see her,” Veronica said. Some of the conviction in her voice had vanished.

Dr. Kincaid moved to the head of the table. She hesitated only a moment before she peeled back the sheet. The bandages had been stripped from the face, making the healing tattoos appear all the more raw and angry.

Veronica didn’t speak but stared at the face for a long time. “Shit. This cannot be happening. She was only thirty years old.”

So was Diane. And Kara had only been eighteen.

“I’ll meet with your police sketch artist,” Veronica said. Her voice was raw with emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”