Page 29 of The Dollmaker

As Tessa moved around the table and closer to Dakota, he caught the whiff of a soft jasmine soap, but no frilly perfume. That was Tessa.

She positioned the breastplate back in place and closed the large flaps of skin. Threading a large needle with practiced ease, she sewed up the body.

As he watched her work, he realized she was wearing her wedding band on her ring finger under her gloves. She’d not been wearing it yesterday.

They’d eloped alone to Las Vegas. He’d not had a ring for the ceremony but had insisted they drive to a jewelry store and buy one. She’d wanted a simple band, saying a stone was too fussy for her. Six months into their marriage he had ordered an engagement ring for her as a birthday surprise, but by the time it had been made, she was gone. It remained in a drawer in his bedside table. They’d officially been married sixteen months, but half that time had been spent apart.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the text. It was the station. Another body had been found in a park twenty miles north of the city. “All right, Doc. Thanks. Let me know if toxicology comes back with any interesting results. I’ve received a homicide call that I have to deal with now.”

“Never a dull moment,” Dr.Kincaid said.

“I wish to hell it were,” he said.

He stripped off his gown. “Jerry and Dr.McGowan, thank you for your time.”

“Of course, Agent,” Jerry said.

Tessa looked up from her stitching. “Have a nice day, Agent.”

Right. A nice day.

He reached for his jacket and left through the swinging doors without a look back. Outside, he was steps away from the building before he reached for a cigarette. As he lit up and inhaled, he was annoyed with himself on multiple fronts. Whatever promises he’d made about the smoking sure as shit had gone by the wayside, and whatever vows he’d made about staying clear of Tessa McGowan were officially on shaky ground.

His phone rang as he slid behind the wheel of his car. “Sharp.”

“Jacob McLean,” the caller said.

Sharp stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. “I thought you were dead.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through the receiver. “I get that a lot.”

Jacob and Sharp had been buddies in high school and both served together in the marines. Sharp had been a sniper. McLean had been a medic attached to a Special Forces unit. When Kara had died, McLean had been reassigned for specialized training at Quantico and had driven down for her funeral dressed in his marine uniform.

“Where are you?” Sharp asked.

“I returned to Virginia about a week ago. I’m prepping for a job interview with an old college buddy who works with an outfit called Shield Security.”

“I’ve dealt with them. Smart. Dedicated. Cowboys,” Sharp said.

“Sounds like my kind of people.”

Sharp started the engine. “You might be right. Need a place to bunk?”

“Been crashing at my mother’s old place. Getting it ready to sell, but that’s wearing thin.”

“I’ll text you my address. There’s a key hidden above the front door in a small crack on the left. I’m on my way to a homicide, so no telling when I’ll be home.” It would be nice to have a friend around who might distract him from thinking about Tessa.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Sharp drove to the small suburban park northwest of Richmond, not far from where Terrance Dillon’s body had been found. This was his third visit to the area in as many days. What the hell was it with this place?

When he arrived, a collection of local cop cars blocked the park’s entrance. He paused at the checkpoint, showed his ID, and made his way back along the narrow winding road that butted into a playground complete with swing sets, a carousel, and an elaborate jungle gym. A buzz of activity by a picnic table drew his attention, and he could see a local forensic team was on hand. Again, a ring of yellow tape enclosed the area, blocking any random visitor who might stumble onto the scene.

A thin woman in her early thirties approached him. She was dressed in jeans, a loose T-shirt, leather jacket, and booted heels. Ink-black hair skimmed her shoulders, a delicate cross on a chain hung around her neck, and a detective’s shield was clipped to her belt. Her lips were fixed into a grim line.

He recognized her. She was new to the Richmond division of the Virginia State Police, having transferred in from the Tidewater area where she’d worked undercover.

Sharp pulled his badge from his breast pocket, held it up for her to see, and attached it to his belt. “Agent Dakota Sharp.”

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