Page 86 of The Dollmaker

A delicate pink warmed her cheeks. “Oh.”

“What are you doing these days?”

“Pathology residency.”

He already knew the answers to these basic questions because he’d done a fair amount of digging before making contact. But he liked hearing her talk. Liked being close to her. “Sounds interesting.”

“It is.” She drank her water, and his gaze was drawn to the long line of her neck and her slender fingers wrapped around the bottle.

“Hey, Tessa, the game is about to start back up,” one of the male players shouted.

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he lied. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, no worries. Really. Sorry, it just took me a second. It’s been, what, nine or ten years?”

“Give or take.” He maintained eye contact and smiled.

“Hey, McGowan,” one of the guys shouted. “Get your butt in gear.”

She looked over her shoulder at the group, now grinning. “Let me buy you a drink. Be nice to catch up.”

“You sure? I didn’t mean to bust into your afternoon,” he said.

“I’d like it.” She tossed her towel over her shoulder and picked up her backpack. “If you’re up for a little walk, there’s a bar a block from here. It’s cheap. And the burgers are good.”

He grinned. “Sure.”

All traces of hesitation melted from her green gaze. “Great.”

Eight months later it was a hasty Las Vegas wedding, and eight months after that they separated.

He tossed the half-used cigarette into the dirt and ground it out with the tip of his shoe. Hearing the children’s laughter, he picked up the butt and threw it in the garbage.

He’d shoved his way into Tessa’s life, and she’d welcomed him. For a time, he’d been happier than he could remember. He’d never bothered to consider their age difference or that his world-weary, cynical view of life would clash with her youthful impulsiveness.

Sharp had almost convinced himself the past was dead and buried, forever. That he’d somehow made a shaky peace with Kara’s death. But he’d been so wrong. All along the demons of the past had lurked. Hid. Stalked.

The case that had shattered their marriage had been the murder of an eighteen-year-old girl. She’d been a freshman in college, and after vanishing for two days, she was found strangled and sexually abused. He’d not slept or eaten much for weeks as he interviewed dozens of people. Tessa had been as patient as a saint. She’d pushed power bars in his pockets so he could eat. She’d not complained when he missed dinners. And then the killer had been caught. Their life should have returned back to what it had been. But the switch Sharp flipped had stayed on. Tessa had tried to talk to him. But he only grew frustrated.

Now he wondered if the switch could be turned off or if this was simply the way he’d remain.

Sharp had visited almost all the offices in the medical building fitting Jimmy Dillon’s description. As the time neared 2:00 p.m., he entered the second to last on his list. This medical practice belonged to Dr.Bailey, an oral surgeon who’d been practicing in the area for twenty years.

He showed his ID to a plump young receptionist. “Is Frances here?”

“We don’t have anyone here by that name.”

He’d received a similar response at the other offices he’d visited in the building. “Can I see the doctor in charge?”

“Sure.” She made a call. Minutes later a nurse escorted him to a corner office. A glance at the diplomas on the wall told Sharp the good doctor had an impressive résumé. But Sharp had crossed paths with many talented, smart people who took shortcuts when it came to making money. It wouldn’t be hard for a doctor to skim narcotics and sell them on the side.

A short man wearing a white lab coat entered the room. Neat black hair was brushed away from a friendly face free of worries. He extended his hand. “Agent Sharp, I’m Dr.Bailey. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a woman named Frances.”

“Who?”

“She works in this office,” he bluffed. Even if the name weren’t real, hearing it spoken by a cop would rattle cages.

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