Page 35 of Dolly

“Are we safe here, Ken?” I ask, my eyes closing.

“We are.” There’s no waver of confidence in his voice.

“Won’t the police be looking for us?” I yawn again.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Sleep.” He presses a finger to my lips.

He’s going to start having questions for me.

I’m going to have to tell him.

I only hope he won’t despise me when I do.

Sixteen

KENDOLL

I’m astounded at the amount of information filling the hard drives. Beardman and Bossman had no idea how to keep anything hidden from view. They were too cocky thinking they’d never be bested or caught.

Every session is listed in chronological order dating back two years. Dolly’s sessions began three months ago. They had me locked in that fucking cell for an entire month. As angry as I am over my lost time, my insides quake knowing Dolly had been there longer. And alone.

I at least had her with me.

The chat logs twist my insides. Disregard to the humanity of the abused on screen, the viewers made more and more disturbing requests until their final sessions. I haven’t brought myself to watch the ending scenes of the women and men who came before us, but I will have to eventually. It was almost me on the tapes, my life ending with avid viewers gobbling up my torment and death.

Dolly paces the room, her thumbnail between her teeth. I scour over financial files. Recorded memberships.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, suddenly at my side. “Maybe we should take a break and get some lunch.” She wiggles onto my lap and rests her head on my shoulder.

She’s been distracting me all morning.

We’ve already been to the diner across the street for breakfast. I’m not willing to risk further exposure until I get a good feel on what’s happened back at the house.

“I’ll get us some sandwiches soon. There’s still fruit from your breakfast if you’re hungry.” I point to the takeout carton on the nightstand.

She frowns.

“What is it?” I ask, brushing her hair from her face. “Do you need to get out of here for a while?”

She nibbles on the inside of her cheek. I’d like to be able to grab the thoughts flying through her mind.

“I’m nervous,” she whispers, burying her head beneath my chin. I wrap my arms around her.

“They’re dead. They can’t hurt us anymore. And we’re going to find out who’s behind their operation. I know it’s scary, but I promise I won’t let anything else happen to you. Ever.” I squeeze her to me.

She inhales, like she’s starting to say something, then shuts down. Her body softens against me.

“Give me another hour and we’ll go out, okay? It’s sunny out and there’s a forest preserve not far from here. We can walk through the woods.”

“Okay.” She blows out a breath and scoots off my lap. Padding across the room in her bare feet, she grabs the television remote and clicks it on.

I roll my head, working out the stiffness in my neck. I’ve been at this for hours, consumed with wanting all the answers. There’s no telling how long we actually have before something or someone catches up to us. I’ve debated calling the precinct, but in the end, kept to my gut. Getting them involved would bring more obstacles than aid. I’m no computer genius, but so far, I haven’t come across anything I can’t crack on my own thanks to the few courses I took while considering going for a federal job.

Once we’ve cleared the air, taken care of everything, then I can bring them in for the clean-up.

I click open another file, expecting to find a laundry list of usernames. It’s another video, but instead of being labeled Dolly-7, it has Dolly’s real name. Abigail.test.mov

She’s buried herself under the covers and is engrossed in the sitcom rerun she’s watching. I make sure the volume on the computer is low enough she can’t hear, then click play.

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