Page 105 of The Dollmaker

He supported her sagging weight as he whispered, “This is very naughty of you, Harmony.”

Tears stung her eyes as she tried to pry the iron hold open with her fingers. “No.”

Shadows darkened his face. “You aren’t going anywhere, Harmony.”

Elena’s fingers balled into a fist and she swung wildly, connecting with his nose. He grunted in pain.

He grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms painfully behind her back. “Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t like to hurt you.” He dragged her several steps forward into the beam of moonlight and stared at her torn bandages and damaged skin. “You’ve ruined my work, you selfish little bitch.”

She spit into his face. “What work? What have you done to me?”

Grabbing her chin, he turned her head from right to left. “What have you done to yourself? I’ve spent hours working on you. Days!”

She tried to break free and kick him. “Fuck you!”

His hands slid from her arms to her neck as he dragged her into the shadows. Strong fingers tightened around her delicate neck as he squeezed. She grabbed at his face, tried to push him away, but he tightened his hold. Her breath caught, and soon her lungs screamed for air.

Her vision blurred, and she became light-headed. “Stop. Let me go.”

“You’ve made me angry, Harmony. You’ve been rude and ungrateful.”

Her legs gave way, and he lowered her to the ground, squeezing harder with each whimper. “Please.” She didn’t recognize her voice. It sounded distant, lost, and desperate.

He straddled her, locking his knees around her ribs and sitting on her midsection. “Harmony, I was ready to give it all to you. But you’re an ungrateful doll.”

Those were the last words she heard.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Monday, October 10, 8:00 a.m.

Sharp arrived at the office of Shield Security after fighting rush-hour traffic clogging I-95 between Richmond and Washington. He showed his identification to the guard at the front gate and then to a second guard inside the building. “They’re expecting you, Agent Sharp. Take the elevator to the fifth floor.”

“Thanks.”

His heels clicked at a determined pace as he crossed the polished floor and punched the elevator button. The ride to the fifth floor took mere seconds. The doors opened to a frowning Garrett Andrews.

“You’re late,” Andrews said.

“Traffic.”

“What do you have?”

“I want to hear everything you’ve learned from Knox’s files and your interview with him. He died last night.”

Andrews showed no expression. “How?”

“Looks like an overdose,” Sharp said. “He left a note that said, ‘I’m sorry. I should have done more.’”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“As I mentioned, I asked him basic questions about your sister’s investigation, and he wouldn’t answer me,” Andrews said. “He said the day she was found, he was short staffed because there’d been an arson incident that day. And as I told you, he also suggested he wiped her face clean before other officers arrived.”

“Do you think he was protecting someone other than Roger and my mother?”

“Yes. I think he knew who killed your sister or at least who was responsible for her death, and he covered it up.” Andrews absently rubbed the back of his hand. “According to my searches, Knox came to the area from Denver. He was married, divorced, and he has two daughters. He also had a son who drowned when the boy was twelve. Neither Knox’s wife nor the daughters joined him when he moved to Virginia. After he served for ten years as police chief, the city council voted him out of office. Local newspapers reported he was furious at the ouster. He applied for his private investigator’s license and for the next eight years did work ranging from insurance company fraud to cheating spouses. His biggest client was Roger Benson.”

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