Page 110 of The Dollmaker

“And if I can’t remember, I can call Holly. I just need to change.”

“Right.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

He checked his watch. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Fifteen minutes later Tessa stepped off the elevators and found Dakota pacing. “Sorry. Got a call from the lab. Had to take it.”

“No problem. Are you hungry? Need to eat?”

“No.”

“Let’s go.”

He was parked across the street, and she hurried to match his long strides. She slid into the passenger seat and snapped her seat belt in place.

His computer sat between them. In the backseat was a box filled with active investigation case files. It was neat and organized. She’d kidded him once about his organization in both his car and apartment. He’d attributed it to the marines, said he’d picked up habits he doubted he’d ever shake. The faint hint of cigarette smoke told her he was stressed.

When he settled behind the wheel, she was aware of the breadth of his shoulders. The cut of his jaw. The way his fingers wrapped around the gearshift when he put the car in drive and pulled out of the space.

“The funeral director said there was a doll in Kara’s coffin.”

She twisted in her seat and faced him. “Say again?”

“According to the funeral director, a little girl brought the doll to him and told him Kara’s mother wanted it laid beside her.”

“Why would this killer ask a child to give the doll to the funeral director?”

“The doll seems to be his calling card. The child was a way to deliver the doll without him being noticed.”

“Why would the killer attend her funeral?”

“Killers go to funerals for a variety of reasons. Guilt, remorse, a perverse need to relive the murder. That’s why I want to go over the list of those in attendance.”

“Assuming the killer would have bothered to sign the register.”

“If he showed, had the doll put in the casket, I’d bet money he couldn’t resist signing the log and not even use an alias. He’d want a lasting memento of his presence.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Andrews suggested an exhumation.”

“God, Dakota.”

They drove in silence as Dakota cut through traffic at speeds frightening to most people. She’d forgotten how fast he drove, but now as before, she didn’t worry. He’d always maintained an utter sense of control.

“About what happened yesterday morning.” She needed him to hear this. “If it happened again, I wouldn’t be sorry.” She settled back in her seat. “In fact, I’m planning on it happening again.”

He glanced at her, the sunlight splashing across her face. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

For the first time in a year, she felt a sense of calm. “I know exactly what I’m saying.”

He didn’t utter a word for the final fifteen minutes of the drive. They pulled up to the front gate of Shield Security. Dakota showed both their identifications and told the guard they were meeting Garrett Andrews.

In the lobby, a large, muscled man was waiting for them. He wore black slacks and a black turtleneck that covered most of his neck and arms, but she saw the faint scarring on his left hand and on the left side of his neck. He’d been badly burned.

As he approached, Andrews’s cool blue gaze didn’t show a hint of welcome or emotion. “Agent Sharp. Dr.McGowan, correct?”

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