Page 2 of Another Girl Lost

“Lawyer first, Detective Dawson.” Full lips flattened into a grim line, projecting experience well beyond her twenty-five years.

As if she’d not spoken, he said, “We have footage of you speaking to your latest victim, and we’ve also confirmed you were one of the last people to see her alive. You also stalked and kidnapped a second woman. You’d have killed her if you’d not been stopped.”

She sat silent, barely breathing.

“And I can also link you to the human remains found entombed in a wall.” He leaned forward, his knees less than an inch from hers. “What set you off? Why call in the location of the first body that’s been hidden for a decade? Why kill again after all these years?”

She exhaled slowly, her face remaining a blank mask.

He sat back, refusing to acknowledge the frustration elbowing his gut. He lowered his voice and softened the tone. “Tell me about Della.” He knew Della was a trigger point for Scarlett, their alleged relationship an open wound. “Tell me how she hurt you.”

She settled back in the chair, her face cool and emotionless. “Not talking.”

“You and me have history, Scarlett. You don’t want another cop handling your case. I’ve seen you at your worst. Others won’t understand you like I do.”

“You understand me?” Bitter amusement vibrated under the words.

The first threats of anger. Progress. “We must talk, Scarlett. You helped kill a woman, murdered another, and tried to suffocate a third. You put a cop in the hospital with a vicious stab wound. You called thatofficerDellamultiple times. And this isn’t the first time you’ve confused a woman with this Della.”

Scarlett’s fingernail dug into the cup.

Dawson focused not on the dead women but the one currently in surgery. Scarlett’s latest version of Della had elicited so much anger and rage, she’d attacked her with a knife. “Nineteen stitches. Your knife left a nasty gash on your victim’s neck and chest. The doctor said a few more centimeters to the left and you’d have severed her carotid artery. If she’d bled to death, you would be facing another murder charge.”

The cup creaked again.

He’d sat across from hardened criminals in this room. Gangbangers, drug dealers, and men who’d strangled their baby mamas to death. Some protested their innocence. Some tried to look bored or indignant when he accused them of attempted murder. Some cried. Scarlett barely blinked.

“I was there when the van crashed a decade ago. I shot and killed Tanner Reed when he drew on me. I helped pull you from the wreckage,” he said. “I’m on your side.”

She inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“Breaks my heart when I think about pulling you out of that torn metal. What happened to you in that basement should never have happened to any person.”

Counselors he’d consulted in the early-morning hours said she managed the old traumas by disassociating.Quiet. Distant. In her own world.This was how she coped. The consultant had underlinedDetachedseveral times.

“Were you always like this?” he asked. “Withdrawn, I mean? As a girl, were you outgoing?”

“You want to talk about my middle school years?” Bitterness pirouetted with amusement.

“I want to start a dialogue with you. I want to help you.”

“Then call my lawyer.”

“At some point you and I are going to have to talk, Scarlett. You need to tell me what you know.”

How did you scare someone who’d been tortured by the devil?

Dawson’s fifteen years in the department had armed him with tricks and tactics. Fighting every urge to rail at her, he leaned on his patience. “When did you first meet Officer Margo Larsen?”

She moistened her lips. “Is this information for the case or your own personal reference, Detective?”

He almost protested, then slid back behind a blank stare. “What does that mean?”

“You know.” A smile tipped the edges of her lips before she closed her eyes, released the cup, and drew in a deep breath. The muscles in her arms and hands eased, shedding the tension. She’d turned the tables.

“When did you decide to stalk Margo Larsen?” He shifted back to offense. “I’ve seen the portrait you left for her in her apartment. Odd.”

Scarlett blinked. “Her name isn’t Margo. It’s Della.”

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