The Dollmake (The Forgotten Files 2)

“Won’t take no for an answer,” McLean said.

She looked at Sharp, clearly unsure.

“Stay,” Sharp said.

Her fingers tightened again on the purse strap. “Sure.”

McLean turned to Sharp. “Get the lovely lady a beer.”

“Right,” Sharp said.

As he moved into the kitchen to get a beer, he heard McLean say, “Sharp doesn’t bite. At least I don’t think he does.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Friday, October 7, 9:45 p.m.

“What pictures did you bring?” Dakota asked.

Leave it to him to keep the target in his sights. Work came first. But she wasn’t angry. He was who he was. “They’re all taken the night of the Halloween party.”

“What can you recall about that night?” Dakota asked.

“I don’t remember anything. My memory was wiped for the few days leading up to the accident. I wasn’t even sure these pictures still existed until I found them at my aunt’s house tonight.” She dug her fingernail into the label on her beer bottle. “I saw my cousin Holly, and she remembers that Kara and I had a fight. She said I was walking back to the dorm early. A few minutes later, I was tagged by a car.”

He laid his fork and knife down. “I always wondered how you could just step into traffic. You’re one of the most alert people I know.”

“Everyone gets tired, I suppose. And I must have been distracted by the fight.”

“I always assumed you were drunk,” Dakota challenged.

“Thanks a lot.”

“It was college, Tessa. Kids do stupid things.”

“I never got that stupid.”

“Do you think your drink could have been drugged?” McLean asked.

“I never considered that.”

“Why not?” Dakota asked.

“I don’t know. I was at a party with friends. I thought I was in a safe place.”

“Not friends. Acquaintances,” Dakota said. “Were you drinking draft beer?”

“I assume so. But I was never a big drinker.” She and Dakota had talked about the accident before, but never in great detail.

McLean groaned. “It makes sense. I’d bet money someone slipped a roofie in her drink.”

She’d always attributed the car accident to her own distracted thinking. But what if she’d been drugged?

Dakota balled up his napkin and tossed it on the table beside his plate. “Do you remember what Kara was drinking?”

“Beer, I suppose. Like I’ve told you before, I have no memory of the night. The concussion wiped out about three days’ worth of memories.”

“Who gave the party?” Dakota asked.

“My aunt told me later it was at someone’s house near the cemetery. I did go back later when my leg was healing. It was near the graveyard. I suppose that made sense for a Halloween party.”

“Who owned the house?”

“I don’t know. I never asked. But I do remember where it was. It won’t be hard to trace.”

He tapped his finger on the table. When they’d been together and he’d worn his wedding band, the clink, clink of the ring on the table meant a case bothered him. She could tell by the speed and rhythm of the clinks if the case was going well or not.

“I saw Stanford Madison tonight,” he said. “Did you know he was dating Diane Richardson?”

“I did not know that.”

“Tell me about Madison,” Dakota said.

“I had kind of a crush on him in college. I told Kara. She thought it was sweet.” A memory rose out of the shadows. “I remember them at the Halloween party. They were kissing.” She frowned. “That must be why I left.”

Dakota studied her a beat. “Why didn’t you ever talk about him to me?”

“Because he was a college crush and a friend after my accident. He visited me a few times that semester I had to drop out, and then we lost touch.”

McLean rose and moved to the envelope Tessa brought. “Tell us about the pictures?” he asked.

Relieved to look away, she rose and laid the pictures out like playing cards. “They were all taken the night of the Halloween party. Kara wore a red dress. The rest of us were dressed as dolls.”

“Dolls,” Dakota said.

“Yes. It was kind of a lark at the time, but now that I look at them, I get chills.”

Dakota leaned forward and for a long moment stared at the images. “Did you run into anyone that night that you thought might be trouble? Was there anyone interested in Kara, you, or the other girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did Knox ever interview you?” Dakota asked. “He said he talked to everyone who knew Kara.”

“He did. It was later, though. I was a junior in college, and he caught up to me as I was coming out of the library.”

“What did he ask you about?”

“He wanted to know about that night Kara vanished. I couldn’t tell him anything.”

“What else?”

“Did I notice if anyone was hanging around the dorm in the weeks before the party.”

“And?”

“No one that I remembered. But . . .” A detail long forgotten focused. “Someone did send her flowers.”

“When?”

“A couple of weeks before the party.”

“Who sent them?”

“There wasn’t a card on the flowers. I remember they were purple irises and were in a pretty vase by our dorm room door.”

“How do you know they were for Kara?” McLean asked.

“I just assumed. I didn’t know anyone that would send me flowers.”

Dakota tapped his finger on the pictures, clearly struggling to control his anger over Kara’s unsolved murder.

“The point I need to make, Dakota, is that Holly remembers Elena Hayes at Kara’s funeral. Holly says that Elena and her sister found Kara on the road. They said when they found her, she had makeup on her face.”

“She remembers that specific detail?” Dakota challenged.

“She has a photographic memory. If Holly remembers, it happened.”

Dakota stared at her, his face an unreadable mask.

“If you want more details, talk to Elena Hayes. She was the fourth girl in the picture. She was living abroad for a couple of years, but I saw in one of the alumni magazines that she was back in Richmond. I know the cops interviewed her after Kara was found, as they did me. She might have been afraid to talk more candidly then. Her father was str

ict and would have punished her if he’d known she’d been at a party drinking with a bunch of strangers.”

“I’ll talk to Vargas, and we’ll go see her,” Dakota said. “Anyone strike you as odd at the funeral or in the days leading up to the party?”

“At the funeral, I was on pain meds and couldn’t stay long. I spoke to your mother. She was sweet but so overwhelmed. Your stepfather was also a mess.”

Dakota tapped his index finger on the table, and she sensed he was struggling to remain objective. “Diane’s mother said she was vain. She was convinced she’d never ruin her face.”

“She wasn’t stuck-up about her looks in college, but she was conscious of them. And I agree, unless there was a really drastic change in her mental makeup, she wouldn’t have disfigured herself.”

Tessa stared at the pictures of Kara, Diane, Elena, and herself. Pathologists, like cops, could distance themselves from death so they could effectively analyze the chain of evidence. But she found it nearly impossible now.

Dakota reached for his phone, took snapshots of the images, and sent them off.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Sending them to Garrett Andrews at Shield Security. If anyone can pull a detail out of these, it’s him.”

Fatigue had seeped deep into Tessa’s bones. She’d be no good at work tomorrow if she didn’t get some sleep. “I’ve got to get going,” Tessa said. “I’ve an early call in the morning. Let me know if I can help.”

“Would you be willing to meet with Andrews at Shield?” Dakota asked.

She rose, hitching her purse on her shoulder. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

He followed her to the door, which he reached before her. He gripped the knob but didn’t open it. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

So close, and yet the distance between them felt endless.

“Why did you kiss me the other day?” he asked suddenly.

“Why?” Good, he’d been thinking about the kiss. “Because I’ve dreamed about it for months. I wanted to see if you tasted like I remembered.”

“Nothing’s changed, Tessa,” he warned. “I can promise you we’d be great in the sack and terrible out of it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not going to chase you, Dakota. If you want this marriage, you’ll have to meet me halfway. But I’m not going anywhere this time.”