Tessa glanced toward the bag, but when Veronica began to cry, she set it aside.
“I was on the phone with Mom and Dad,” Veronica said finally. “They’re flying back from California right now.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head, wiping away a tear. “I’m trying to understand this. I’m trying to figure out why someone would be so full of hate that they’d do what they did to her face.”
“I don’t know, Veronica. This person is clearly sick.”
“You know Elena was sorry she didn’t visit with you after your accident.”
Absently, Tessa rubbed her leg. “It was a long time ago.”
“Does it still bother you?”
“Only when I’m tired and have been on my feet too long. For the most part, it’s not too bad.”
“How did you get hit by a car?”
“You didn’t come here to talk about my accident.”
“No, I didn’t. I met with the police sketch artist, but I’m afraid I wasn’t much help. It was basically the face of a thousand different men.” She fiddled with a ring on her index finger. “I’ve been trying to remember if there were any super creeps that stood out when Elena was in college. There were always guys staring at her. She was so pretty. So perfect. But I can’t place anyone in particular.”
“I’ve been doing the same. I just don’t remember anyone.”
Veronica shook her head. Tears glistened. “This is all so surreal. You know I have an appointment with the funeral home tomorrow? Jesus. I never pictured this moment in my life, ever.”
“No one ever does. I was overwhelmed when my mom died. There were so many details to think about. I don’t think I could have gotten through it all without my aunt.”
Veronica shoved out a sigh. “Look, I can see you’re tired and need to put your feet up. You’re the only one I can really talk to about this.”
“It’s okay.” As Veronica turned toward the door, Tessa said, “You need to be careful. We still don’t know the killer.”
“I saw the cop parked out front of your house. Are you scared?”
“More angry than scared. I want this guy caught.”
She opened the door. “Be careful.”
“Right.”
When Veronica left, Tessa locked her door and turned her attention to the bag. Inside, she found a simple brown box. Carefully, she removed it and pulled off the top to find a layer of white tissue. Peeling back the layers, she caught the glimpse of black hair and then a glass eye with a fixed stare. Her heart rammed against her ribs. It was a doll. “My God.” She dashed to the front door, snapped it open without thinking, hoping she could catch Veronica. But when she opened the door, the man standing there stopped her midstep with the touch of a stun gun to her gut.
“Dr. McGowan?”
Gritting her teeth, she couldn’t form words as she looked up at the man, knowing they’d met recently. Her body tingled, twitched, and burned from the effects of the stun gun as her legs crumbled. He lifted her, supporting her weight as he took her inside the apartment.
Before the door closed, she looked past him to the cop car. The cop’s head was slumped forward. She opened her mouth to scream, but she couldn’t draw in air to speak. The door closed. Finally, she muttered, “Don’t do this.”
He stood her upright and released her as he searched his pockets for something. All the while he watched as she staggered to an entry table for support, willing her legs to work.
Hands trembling, she reached for a vase, gripping the lip as she concentrated on lifting it. It felt as if she were lifting hundreds of pounds. Finally, she turned and hurled it at him.
The man easily deflected the missile with one arm as he held a syringe in the other. “There is no need to be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to transform you, my sweet little doll.”
Screaming weakly, she turned to run, but her body still wouldn’t perform. She tripped, and strong hands grabbed her.
“You are being naughty, little doll. You need to be still. You need to be silent.”
He threw her to the ground, and the power of his thrust sent her tumbling to her hands and knees. She began to crawl. “No. I’m not a doll.”
Easily he overtook her and pulled her hair, yanking her head back. “Why did you make me hurt you? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Stop, please.”
He pushed her flat against the floor and tugged her arms behind her, tying them tight at the wrists. “I know what I’m doing, little doll. Stop fighting me before you hurt yourself.”
“Stop!” she hissed, barely able to form the word. Blurred vision and muscle spasms made it impossible for her to sit up.
He bound her feet and rolled her on her back. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it in her mouth. “This isn’t fun for me. It breaks my heart to have to be so rough with you. But soon you’ll be thanking me. I’ll take care of you. Love you. You’re my perfect Serenity doll.”
Panic tore through her, a muffled scream escaping as he pressed her cheek against the floor.
She felt the prick of a needle in her arm and seconds later the warmth of some drug sliding into her. She blinked her eyes, terrified she’d fall asleep.
“You don’t remember me, but I’ve been watching you for years.” He smoothed his hand gently over her head. “Time and people have kept us apart, but now it’s time for us to be together forever.”
She shook her head, blinking again as her vision clouded.
“I’ve done this dozens of times before, though most of the people I spent my time with were far quieter. But don’t worry, Serenity. I’m not here to kill you. We have so much living we can do together.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she pictured the faces of Diane and Elena. As he pushed the syringe’s plunger again, her head swirled and she thought about Dakota. Regrets. How much she loved him.
Sharp was driving north on I-95 when his phone dinged with a text from Ms. Knox. He opened the attachment to a picture of a young boy who couldn’t be more than ten. Familiarity teased as he struggled to connect the dots. Then the phone rang. Andrews.
“Given the parameters, I’ve narrowed it to one man. Norman DeLuca lives near Terrance Dillon and he owns a business in town.”
“Shit.” DeLuca. The picture sent from Carol Knox was of a younger version of DeLuca. He forwarded the text to Andrews. “Just sent you an image of Knox’s son taken when he was a boy.”
There was only a brief hesitation. “DeLuca,” Andrews said.
“He owns the damn funeral home. He likely knew Radcliff and his situation. Probably offered to buy the propofol from him. Big wedding for daughter coming up and leaving a widow. Money was too tempting. He’s been around all their lives. He was at Roger’s funeral. Terrance’s funeral.”
“And no doubt, your sister’s. He’d been in town less than a year when your sister died, and he was working at the funeral home then.”
“He put the doll in her casket.”
“A very logical assumption. He never attended the college, but it’s an open campus, and as a local, he could easily have been around them. He’s only a few years older, so he wouldn’t have stood out too much around the students.”
“And the prostitutes killed in Colorado fit what his sister told me,” Sharp said.
“Explain.”
“Knox’s ex-wif
e told her daughters she was certain she saw her son years ago. She lost the guy in the crowd. Really rattled the woman,” Sharp said.
“I’m trying to connect the deaths to his credit card receipts. If he traveled, there’d be some kind of record. Given a little more time, I’m confident I can show a link.” Keys clicked in the background. “And DeLuca’s Funeral Home was a corporate sponsor of Terrance’s football team. That’s how the kid recognized him.”
“I’ll head to the funeral home now.” Sharp drove toward DeLuca’s.
He dialed Tessa’s phone, and when it went to voice mail, he cursed. “Tessa, where the hell are you? I think I know who killed Kara, Diane, and Elena. Norman DeLuca. Tall, with dark hair and olive skin. Just stay the hell in your house or close to the cop assigned to you.”
His next call was to the cop on duty. On the fourth ring he received a crisp, “Officer Smith.”
“Where is Officer Baugh? He’s supposed to be on duty in front of Tessa McGowan’s house.”
“Officer Baugh is being taken away in an ambulance. He was drugged. Still passed out cold.”
“Where is Tessa McGowan?”
“Missing.”
He floored the accelerator as he redialed Andrews. “Tessa is missing. What can you tell me about the funeral home?”
“I’m pulling building plans now. Bowman is with me, and he wants to talk to you.”
Sharp barely registered. “Sure.”
“Bowman here. I’m sending our newest man and putting him on an intercept course with you at DeLuca’s.”
“I don’t need a new guy.”
“It’s McLean.”
Tessa woke in stages. At first she was aware of a quiet shuffling around the room, then the strong smell of chemicals, and finally an aching pain in her side. Eyes closed, she tried to raise her hand to her head but couldn’t lift her arms.
What was wrong with her? Was she still asleep? She thought back to when she was in the car accident and she couldn’t move her legs. Fear sliced through her as she tried to convince herself that she was okay. But her legs didn’t move. She didn’t feel the prick of the doctor’s probe on the bottom of her feet. Had she been in another accident?