Page 35 of The Dollmaker

“Still, such a pretty girl, Destiny. I already miss you.” He enlarged the picture and studied the fine detailing around her eyes and her mouth.

He’d worked hard to perfect his art, practicing first on himself, marking up his thighs until they were covered in ink, and then on the random whores who worked the streets. They’d been easy to drug, easy to keep for days because no one missed them. No one cared about them.

Some of the whores he dumped back onto the street, drugged and dazed. Others he’d practiced on too long and ruined their faces. Letting them go would have brought the wrong kind of attention to himself, so it had been easy to overdose each with a lethal hit of heroine before disposing of their bodies.

He scrolled through more pictures to another woman’s face. This picture he’d snapped at the mall today. She’d been buying cosmetics. Her long dark hair framed her round face and drew attention to large eyes. Her skin was pale and flawless. A high slash of cheekbones.

Pretty enough that he’d grown hard while he’d been following her and taking pictures. But the longer he watched her, the more flaws he noticed. Pretty but not perfect.

She would be his new doll. She would be his new work of art. And he’d already picked out a name for her.

“Harmony. Harmony. Harmony.” He said the name out loud several more times, liking the way it rolled off his tongue.

It wasn’t really wise to make a new doll so soon, but he could feel the pressure of loneliness building inside him. In the past he’d wait months, even years before creating a new doll.

But waiting was too hard when he remembered Destiny. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted someone to love. To taste. He needed to wait, but he could not.

He reached for a packet of matches and lit one, watching as the flame danced and swayed. A fire would calm him. It had when he was a boy. He’d not set any fires in town in over three years, so one small one now would likely go unnoticed.

Holding the match until the flame died, he smiled. One small fire. And then he’d bring his Harmony home to live with him for a long, long time.

“I’m going to make you perfect, Harmony.”

CHAPTER NINE

Wednesday, October 5, 5:00 p.m.

Under the glare of a portable lamp, the forensic crew worked the doll victim as Sharp walked through the woods to the condos adjacent to the park and knocked on the doors of the units facing the woods. No one had seen or heard anything last night. Retracing his steps, he stood at the edge of the crime scene, watching as the forensic technician photographed the body.

Judging by the victim’s bone structure and build, she’d been a beautiful woman in the prime of her life. But the garish tattooing had disfigured and perverted her features.

The medical examiner’s van arrived. Dr.Kincaid and Tessa got out with somber expressions, taking time to gather their gear. Tessa’s long black hair was pulled into a thick ponytail, and she was dressed in khakis, well-worn boots, and like Dr.Kincaid, a dark-blue slicker that read “Medical Examiner” on the back. Sharp stood straighter, watching as she and Kincaid removed the stretcher from the back of the van. He thought he could handle working around Tessa, but he realized it was going to be harder than he’d first thought.

Julia Vargas approached Dr.Kincaid and Tessa. They listened to the agent give her report on the body before moving toward the crime scene tape. When they ducked under it, he followed.

Dr.Kincaid extended her hand to Martin Thompson and smiled as she introduced Tessa. “Dr.McGowan is a forensic pathologist. You’ll be seeing more of her.”

Martin shook her hand and only tossed a quick questioning glance at Sharp. “Welcome.”

If Tessa read Martin’s questioning gaze, she gave no sign of it. “Thanks.”

The older man’s normally banal expression actually softened, and he held her hand an extra beat. “Glad to have you on the team.”

“Good to be on it,” Tessa said.

Sharp caught a couple of young officers looking at Tessa. Their gazes weren’t curious, but lewd. They didn’t realize Tessa was his wife. A primitive impulse demanded he punch each guy in the face.

“Who found the body, Agent Vargas?” Tessa asked.

“An early-morning jogger. He said he didn’t touch her. Thought she might have been a mannequin at first. He called the cops right away, and we had a first responder here within five minutes to secure the scene.”

“May I touch the body, Martin?” Dr.Kincaid asked.

“Yes. I’ve collected every bit of evidence I can find, so the body is ready to remove,” Martin said.

Dr.Kincaid knelt and with a gloved hand touched the victim’s face, circling her finger around the red circle, a cartoon version of a blushing cheek.

“It’s a tattoo,” she said, hints of surprise in her tone. “And judging by its color and skin texture, it’s recent. I’d say she only finished healing days ago.”

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