The Dollmake (The Forgotten Files 2)

Both pieces were favorites of hers. He’d given Kara both the necklace and bracelet. “Anything else in the casket?”

“There was a doll.”

“A doll?”

“Yes. I personally placed it beside her just before her funeral.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“After your parents left, a young girl came into the viewing room and gave it to me. She said your mother wanted it left with your sister. The doll apparently had been Kara’s.”

No. That wasn’t right. His sister wouldn’t have wanted anything like that. “Who was the girl?”

“A friend of the family, I suppose. I didn’t recognize her. I didn’t question the girl. I hope I didn’t offend your family,” Mr. DeLuca said.

It was the killer’s signature. He was likely at the funeral. “Do you have a list of the people who signed the guest book?”

“I have a scan of it in our computer files. Would you like a printout?”

“Yes.”

More keys tapped. The printer hummed.

DeLuca inspected the pages, then handed them to Sharp.

“Never pleasant when a young one leaves us. We try to help, but it’s never easy.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t say why the doll mattered.”

Because the fucking killer wanted it there. “I’m not sure it really does. Just struck me as odd.”

“Why?”

“Kara wasn’t a fan of dolls.”

“Maybe she was, and you didn’t know it.”

Sharp meticulously tucked the pages in his notebook. “You might be right. Thank you again, Mr. DeLuca.”

“Of course. Return any time you have a question.”

On the way out, he glanced at the upcoming services and caught the name Terrance Raymond Dillon. “The Dillon funeral is going to be held here?”

“Tomorrow at ten.”

Sharp moved to a side table and picked up a flyer. He stared at the paper, the feelings of regret and anger weighing heavy. “And the expenses were covered.”

“It’s all taken care of,” he said.

“By who?”

“The community. A crowdfunding account was set up, and it grew quickly. What it doesn’t cover, I will.”

“Do you do that often?”

“Sometimes. Mrs. Jones is asking in lieu of flowers that donations be made to the Terrance Dillon scholarship fund at his high school.”

“Good to know. Thank you.”

“Will you be attending tomorrow?”

“I will.”

“Would you like me to reserve a seat for you? It’s going to be crowded.”

“No.” He forced a smile. “Thank you. I can fend for myself.”

“See you tomorrow.”

In his car, he called McLean, his one friend who’d attended Kara’s funeral. McLean picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”

Sharp reached for his cigarettes. “You attended Kara’s funeral.”

Silence hung heavy between them. “I did.”

Sharp cleared his throat. “Did you see her?”

“I didn’t mean to, but yes, I saw her. I arrived late to the funeral home. The door to her viewing room was still open. I think Roger and your mother had just left.”

“Was she holding a doll?”

“Man, I don’t know. I could barely focus on her.”

“Did you see anyone else around her?”

“I heard footsteps outside the door, so I left and went to stand in the back of the chapel.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Why you asking about this?”

“Just chasing a lead. We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah, sure. Anything you need.”

Sharp hung up and immediately lit his cigarette.

He watched as a couple walked hand in hand into the funeral home. The woman was crying, and the man looked like he was barely holding up.

If the killer had attended Kara’s funeral and had killed Dillon, there was a possibility he would attend this funeral as well.

Douglas Knox’s autopsy took less than three hours. Dr. Kincaid performed the grim duty with Tessa assisting. There was no sign of external trauma to the body, other than the needle mark in his arm. Dr. Kincaid ordered a full tox screen.

“Let’s have a look internally,” Dr. Kincaid said.

Though the crime scene suggested this might have been murder, Tessa knew the medical examiner could not rule out natural causes.

Dr. Kincaid made a Y incision and soon had the old man’s chest open. She removed the rib cage, and they got their first look at his heart. It was a colored muscle twice its normal size.

“He would have been dead within the year,” Tessa said. “I’m not surprised, given all the heart medication in his medicine chest.”

“It was a miracle he was able to function at all,” Kincaid said. “I understand he left a note.”

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“Yes. All it said was, ‘I’m sorry. I should have done more.’”

“Sorry for what?”

“He didn’t say.”

“What was the date of his last prescription?”

“He had a half-dozen prescriptions refilled two days ago.”

“Fills his meds and then kills himself.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen this before. He was screwing up his courage.”

Dr. Kincaid examined Knox’s vital organs, discovering several others were also close to failure.

They were just finishing the autopsy and closing up the body when Dakota arrived. His gaze raked over Tessa, and her skin prickled as energy snapped through her body.

“Agent Sharp,” Dr. Kincaid said. “I’m ruling Douglas Knox’s death undetermined until I get the tox screen back. Then I’ll make a final determination.”

Nodding, he approached the table. “When will that be?”

“A few weeks.”

He glanced at the clock. “Do you have a heavy docket today?”

Kincaid stripped off her gloves as Jerry wheeled away the body. “Several hours to go, but Dr. McGowan is free.”

“Good,” he said, without giving Tessa a chance to comment. “Dr. Kincaid, there is a chance I may have to have my sister’s body exhumed.”

Tessa’s throat tightened with emotion, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. She understood the logic but knew it must be tearing Dakota up.

Dr. Kincaid nodded. “If you decide to proceed, Dr. McGowan and I will be on hand and will take good care of her.”

“Thank you. I hope it’s not necessary.”

“Keep me posted,” Dr. Kincaid said.

Tessa followed him into the hallway.

Sharp stopped a few feet past the doors and turned to her. “I’m headed back to Shield Security. I have a list from the funeral home detailing all the people at Kara’s funeral. I’ve sent scans to Andrews at Shield, and he’s already analyzed it. I’d like you to tag along. You were there. And you knew the players in town.”