Page 32 of The Dollmaker

Her tone was matter-of-fact without a trace of defensiveness. “It’s on my list. What else could I have missed?”

“Tattoo parlors. Whoever did the work on her face is very good. Had to get training somewhere, or one of the artists might have a theory about the style or level of detail.”

As he moved to toss what remained of his cigarette, she snapped her fingers and motioned for it. He handed it to her. She took a drag on the end of the butt, savoring the taste before she dropped it to the asphalt and ground it with her boot.

“I hear that stuff can kill you,” Sharp said.

“Yeah, I tell it to myself at least ten times a week as I talk myself out of the next pack. I’ve not had one in thirty days until now.”

“Sorry to be the one to break your streak.”

“If you hadn’t been smoking, I’d have bought a pack today. It’s going to be hard to shake the images of this case. If those tattoos weren’t her idea, then he would have needed to have worked on her for weeks.”

He shook his head. “You really think those tattoos could have been her idea?”

“I worked undercover vice in the beach area. Most johns are looking for straight sex, but there are some who like the kink. She could have cornered a niche in the doll market. Fetish and fantasy pay good money, with a lot of repeat business.”

“The tattoos appear new.”

“She could have just decided to rebrand herself on the streets.”

It wasn’t that Vargas couldn’t be right, but he still didn’t think the theory would pan out. Something about the entire scene suggested planning and thought. Still, he had to follow the evidence. “If she were hooking, she likely will have a record.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. The sooner we can ID her, the better.” Vargas grabbed hold of the small cross around her neck and absently moved it back and forth on its chain. “Why did he stitch open her eyes?”

“Makes her look more doll-like. Let’s say she was a prostitute. She might have been playing a role he took far more seriously than she did. Or maybe, it was an ego trip. He wanted her to have a good long look at the person who transformed her, then took her life.”

“Do you really think she was dead when he stitched open her eyes?” she asked.

“God, I hope so.”

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” Vargas pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Why?”

“I’ll worry about the whys when we catch this guy.” Sharp offered her another cigarette. “Seeing as you fell off the wagon.”

Vargas accepted the cigarette and the lighter. When the cigarette’s end glowed, she inhaled as she handed him back his lighter. “Yeah, nobody likes a quitter.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Wednesday, October 5, 3:30 p.m.

After the Terrance Dillon exam, Tessa and Dr.Kincaid autopsied a man who’d died in a car accident. By the time they’d closed up the third case, a heart attack, it was after three and Tessa’s feet and back were aching. Dr.Kincaid looked nonplussed as she stripped off her gloves and gown and tossed them into the waste bin.

“You did well today,” Dr.Kincaid said. “It’s not normally this hectic, but you held your own.”

Tessa pulled off her cap. “Keeping up with you will be a challenge.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Jerry poked his head in the door. “Don’t get too comfortable, ladies. Agent Vargas called. She’d like you to visit one of her death scenes.” He glanced at a note. “Woman found in park. Covered in tattoos and no signs of trauma on the body. She’s working with Agent Sharp on the case.”

Two murder investigations on Dakota’s plate. He would be in overdrive now, his attention focused like a laser on work.

“What makes the case unique?” Dr.Kincaid asked.

“Vargas said you’d need to see it to believe it.”

“Thanks, Jerry.” Dr.Kincaid checked her wristwatch. “Looks like our day isn’t over yet.”

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