Page 142 of The Dollmaker

“I don’t understand.”

“I wanted you first. I slipped a sedative in your beer and was waiting for you to drink it. But you took only a couple of sips before you and Kara started to fight. You stormed off, and I followed you. I was afraid the drugs would take hold, and I didn’t want you simply collapsing on the sidewalk.”

She remembered being angry. And then dizzy. Distracted.

“I wanted to help you. I wanted us to get to know each other better. I was right behind you when you left. I saw you start to stagger as you stepped into the street. And then the car hit you. So many people were around you, I couldn’t help you.”

All these years, she thought she’d been distracted and stupid. “So you went back for Kara.”

“I returned to the house just as she stumbled out the back door. She couldn’t have gotten drunk that fast, and then I realized she must have picked up your cup.”

“Did you speak to her?”

He touched the tip of the sharp scissors with his fingers as his eyes got a faraway look. “I walked behind her several blocks. I was mad at her at first. She’d messed up my plans. And then she tripped and fell in the ditch. She started to cry, and it broke my heart. I went to her. My little broken doll. And when I touched her, she looked up and reached out to me. When I took her hand, it was one of the sweetest moments of my life. She collapsed in my arms.”

“That was kind of you.” She struggled to keep her voice even as she remembered Kara’s autopsy pictures.

He looked at her hopefully. “I was nice to Kara. I even had a name for her. It was Felicity. Even though she’d been bad, I was nice.”

“What happened?”

“I carried her to my van. So sweet. She settled in, and I hurried around to turn on the engine and the heater. She looked so cold.”

She wasn’t found for another five days, but she’d been dead less than forty hours when discovered. “It must have been hard to let her go.”

“At first I drove to her dorm and parked. But when I looked at her sleeping face, she looked so sweet. Tears came to my eyes.”

“You couldn’t just leave her for someone else, could you?”

He looked away and turned back toward his worktable. “No. I couldn’t. So I took her back to my apartment. I laid her on one of the couches in the back and sat with her.”

She twisted her hand in the left cuff and watched with growing desperation as the threads holding the strap together loosened. As he turned, she froze. “How long did she sleep?”

“Overnight.”

“And when she woke up?”

“She was cranky. In such a bad little mood. And I realized then that I missed seeing her sleep. She was such an angel when she slept. I used to love to watch my sisters sleep. So peaceful.”

“What did you do when she awoke?”

“I gave her a drugged soda.”

“She was missing for several days.”

“While she was sleeping, I cleaned her clothes. Applied makeup. I’m good with makeup.”

“You prepare the bodies for funerals. Makeup is a part of that.”

“It’s not easy making the dead look alive. But I’m one of the best.” He opened and closed the scissors quickly. “By the time she started to awake, she was perfect.”

“And then you gave her a little bit more medicine to help her nerves.”

“Not a lot. Just a little. She fell asleep, and I snuggled next to her on the bed.”

“She was found dead.”

“I fell asleep beside her, and when I woke up, she was awake and trying to leave me. She started screaming. Yelling. I hate yelling. I forced more drugs into her. She choked and gagged; she was so terrified. To this day, I regret losing my temper.” He shook his head. “At first, when she went still, I was relieved. She was my perfect girl again. She lay so still in my arms. A real doll. I couldn’t resist her. She was so beautiful. So I took her back to the bed. We laid together all day and the next night. Taking her virginity was beautiful.”

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