As if she were some sacrificial lamb on an altar.
She shriveled with dread.
What in God’s name was this?
“See them, Faye?” the disembodied voice said. “They’re waiting for you.”
I’m not Faye and these are dolls. They’re not waiting for anyone!
From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. He was close, a muscular man who was completely naked. His body was scraped free of hair, like the mannequins, and a tight skullcap was pulled over his head.
She knew this monster. Had trusted him. And now, he rounded in front of her, wearing nothing but surgical gloves and an intense expression. In one hand he held scissors. In the other was a portable razor, buzzing loudly.
Her insides shredded as he lifted a lock of her hair and quickly clipped it off. The long blond lock fell to the floor. Involuntarily she started, but she couldn’t get away from him, couldn’t kick or claw or fight him, couldn’t scream.
You sick son of a bitch, she silently yelled while the sightless mannequins watched as ever so slowly, he started cutting her hair. Clip, clip. Snip, snip. In time with the music.
Again she was reminded of the scenes in prison movies, where an inmate’s head is shaved before he’s executed. Oh, no…no…
As the buzzing became a roar near her ear and the empty-faced dolls looked on, she felt the first cold touch of the razor’s blade against her skin.
There was no escape.
CHAPTER 14
“I’m sorry, Les…no word yet,” Shane said, and felt as if the weight of the world had been heaped upon his shoulders. “I’ve talked to the State Police. They’ve got nothing. Neither have my deputies. Nor the city guys. We checked with the nearest hospitals. Sonja wasn’t brought in. I’ve spoken with Lou Mueller, who said you talked to him as well, and his nephew, Chris Mueller, who helped Lou close up. Looks like they were the last people to have seen her.”
“What about the customers?” Lester asked, his voice edged with hope and something more, something darker.
“We’re looking into it. Lou’s given us names of the people he knew—the regulars—and we’ve got descriptions of a couple others as well as the credit card receipts. I’ve got deputies interviewing anyone who was at the diner last night and we’ve got a be-on-the-lookout-for bulletin out for Sonja’s Honda.” And so far they’d come up with nothing. The weather was against them, of course, the dogs unable to cover a lot of territory, the helicopters grounded, even the troopers with night-vision goggles unable to work well in the cold. “What we could use is the most recent picture of her you’ve got.”
“Okay. Anything else I can do?”
“Stay by the phone, talk to all of Sonja’s friends and relatives, and take care of yourself. I’ll send someone over.” It hadn’t been twenty-four hours since she’d last been seen, but Shane had a bad feeling about Sonja’s disappearance. It wasn’t like her. At all. Lester had sworn that they hadn’t had a fight, and even if they had, would she take off in the middle of the worst storm in half a century? Nah, that didn’t make sense. Lou, at the diner, had told a deputy that Sonja hadn’t seemed out of sorts or worried or anything out of the ordinary. He’d thought she was going straight home after work, but hadn’t seen her leave, just noted that her car was gone when he’d taken off.
Not good.
Not good at all.
“Thanks, Shane.” Les’s voice trembled a bit and then there was a click as he hung up.
Shane stared at the phone. “Son of a bitch.” What had happened to Sonja Hatchell? He finished his second cup of coffee, wadded the paper cup in his fist, and dispatched a deputy over to the Hatchell house. His job here in Lewis County was usually filled more with meetings, red tape, and small-time crime than anything else. There were drug busts, traffic accidents, DUIs, underage kids partying, and a fair share of vandalism. Of course, his deputies had been called out on domestic violence disputes, but usually the charges were dropped before the parties headed for court. His department had helped break up a meth lab ring two years back, and there had been a chop shop in East County that they’d helped shut down, but dead women didn’t roll out of hollow logs, nor did citizens go missing.
Until now. He glanced out one of his windows. Over the tops of buildings, steely gray clouds moved slowly. Ominous and deadly. Life had changed here in Falls Crossing. And not for the better.
He glanced through the open blinds of his office. The department was a madhouse. Phones jangled and overworked deputies bustled inside to file reports and book prisoners, just having time to stamp the snow from their boots and warm their near-frozen fingers around cups of coffee before hitting the icy streets again. There were more accidents and reports of power outages and falling tre
e limbs. The hospital was crammed, the ER a zoo. And Amanda Pratt, ever the ambitious Assistant D.A., was riding his butt about the woman found on Catwalk Point. She’d e-mailed twice and called once, wanting more information. And then there was the press, already calling, and one local reporter, Roxie Olmstead, who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.
Carter was about to phone Lieutenant Sparks when he noticed a familiar figure wending her way through the cubicles. Though she wasn’t very tall, it was hard to miss Jenna Hughes when she breezed into a room. She was bundled in a thick ski jacket and tight-fitting ski pants tucked into slim boots. Heads swivelled as she walked by. Carter wasn’t immune himself and noticed the way her stretchy pants hugged her hips, thighs, and calves. She was just damned sexy without seeming to care.
He hung up the phone without dialing. Through the blinds, Carter observed her glance in his direction, then stop at his secretary’s desk. Jenna Hughes was getting to be a regular around here, he thought, as he watched her try to finagle her way past Jerri.
With everything else going on in the county, he didn’t need nor want the distraction of the Hollywood Princess. No matter what her problem. But like it or not, he was going to get her. He stood as Jerri tapped on the door and poked her head inside. “Jenna Hughes is here and would like to talk to you.” Jerri didn’t look any too pleased. But then, these days, she rarely did.
“Send her in.”
Barely were the words past his lips before Jenna strode into the room. He tried not to notice that without much makeup, or the soft focus of the camera lens, or special lighting, she was still a knockout. Great. Just what he needed.