Page 88 of The Dollmaker

Dr.Bailey slid his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t realize it was that complicated. Dana, are you sure there’s no issue with the inventory?”

She looked at him like he’d slapped her. “No, there’s no issue. I haven’t sold drugs to anyone.”

“I never said it was you,” Sharp said.

She leaned toward the doctor, locking her gaze on him and lowering her voice. “Dr.Bailey, I’ve worked for you for twelve years. You know me.”

“I’ve already requested all the security footage around this building,” Sharp said. “If someone in this office is culpable, I’ll know soon.”

Dana removed her glasses and glanced at the lenses before wiping them with the edge of her shirt. “I don’t like your tone.”

Dr.Bailey stared at his office manager. “Dana, you need to tell the officer what you know.”

Dana stared at her employer, her eyes narrowing. “I think I better call my attorney.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sunday, October 9, 6:00 a.m.

Tessa came to Sharp often in his dreams. Most nights, she was dressed only in one of his white dress shirts. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, sleeves pushed recklessly above her elbows, and only a single button was fastened, offering a generous peek at the full swell of her breasts. Firm legs, but so soft to the touch.

Sharp awoke and glanced at the empty side of his bed. He was thinking about her too much during the day, and now she was in his dreams.

Groaning, he got out of bed and went straight for the shower. He didn’t bother with hot water. Ice-cold water was what he needed.

When he came into the kitchen, Sharp was grateful for the full pot of coffee waiting for him. He had only gotten a couple hours of sleep last night, and the cold shower hadn’t quite cut through his fatigue. He filled a mug and found McLean sitting on the back patio, staring at a chessboard that looked to be in midgame.

“What are you looking at?”

“I find sometimes chess allows me to focus and identify patterns.” He put his fingertips on a bishop, hesitated, but in the end, didn’t move the piece.

“Patterns.” Sharp shook his head. “I keep forgetting there’s a philosophy minor lurking behind your math major. If a tree falls in the woods, and no one hears it fall, does it make a sound? All bullshit to me.”

McLean sipped his coffee before moving a chess piece. “You would be surprised what secrets the universe will reveal if you’re simply quiet.”

Sharp took a sip of coffee. “Right.”

McLean’s eyes darkened with unspoken thoughts. “Even in chaos, there are paths. What’s on your agenda today?”

“I’m headed into the office. More surveillance footage waiting for me.”

“On the Diane Richardson case?”

“Indirectly. I’m working on the case of a kid knifed in a Richmond alley. I think the kid was killed because he recognized his killer.”

McLean’s lips curled. “So who did the boy know? What were his daily patterns?”

“I’m working on that. He came from a small town where most of the locals know each other.”

“Your killer is a local?”

“I think he was either local or in the area often. The kid’s neighborhood is right off I-95, which broadens the possible list of suspects.”

“If you need help, shout.”

“Will do.”

McLean checked his watch. “Now, I’ve got to go. Headed to meet with the Shield people.”

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