Page 20 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

He yanks me back and I fall onto the bed, his clenched fist gripping strands of my hair. When he draws his gaze to the boy doll, my eyes follow and a whimper leaves me.

I pulled tufts of the hair out and ripped the clothes from the little doll.

Slow and menacing, he drags his eyes back to me. My head shakes no as my body trembles and cowers. Heavy hands grab at me, tearing my clothes. I fight, lashing at him with a frenzied bout of energy and fury. Humiliation, pain, and fear saturate my soul as he subdues me without any effort, leaving me in my bra and panties when he’s finished, embarrassed and terrified.

Picking up the doll, he walks out as I curl into the fetal position, traumatized with the reality seeping into my heart.

I wasn’t going home ever…

Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

“Detective?”

Her voice jerks me from the past and my words choke me as I try to get them out. When a large, firm hand grips my shoulder, I cry out in surprise.

Benny.

My body moves on the instincts I’ve worked hard to build into it; my muscles coil and the kickboxing lessons come into play. Extending my arm and spinning around with my fist reared back, I prepare to slam it into his nose, my thoughts on my gun. I need it to put holes into him he will never recover from—ending this turmoil growing inside me, haunting my life.

As soon as my fist flies toward the figure of the man, confusion causes me to hesitate briefly. It’s enough of a pause that he has time to grab my wrist and twist it behind my back, forcing my body forward. Our chests touch as I fall against him, using my free hand to steady myself so my face doesn’t crash against the hard planes of his physique. My whole body quakes with terror, until his scent invades my senses and the heavy pounding of his pulse causes his heart to thump against the palm of my hand. It matches my own, battering against my ribcage, trying to tear free and put an end to it all.

Dillon.

“Jade,” he hisses, his hot breath tickling my face. “It’s me, Dillon. What the hell is going on with you?”

Fat tears well in my eyes upon realizing I lost my shit in front of the person I’ve been questioning, and worse, my partner. I don’t let the tears spill and bite my lip to keep it from wobbling. “Nothing’s wrong,” I murmur, pulling my arms free and cradling them around myself so I don’t throw them around him just for some human comfort right now. I feel weak; Benny’s winning.

His dark eyes narrow as he scrutinizes my face up close. I’ve never noticed Dillon has freckles. Or that his eyes hold sad secrets. I never noticed he smells like leather and something contradictory—peppermint, maybe? “Take a lunch break,” he says, his tone gruff. “When I wrap up here, we’re going to talk about this.” He releases me from his probing gaze and stalks back toward the shop.

Before he goes in, I shout, “Detective Scott.”

Turning, he regards me as if I’m a mystery he wants to solve. He’ll never figure me out. Hell, I can’t even figure myself out.

“Bag the boy doll. Check for prints. Miss Kline says it wasn’t here yesterday.”

It’s him. I know it’s him.

Looking to the doll and then back at me, his eyes narrow and he doesn’t move. He must sense my hesitation. He knows I want to say more.

“What else?” he questions, his massive frame blocking the doorway.

“I think it’shim.” The words are spoken before I can stop them and I wish I could shove them back into my mouth.

He’ll think I’m crazy. He’ll tell Chief Stanton he wants a new partner.

“Him as in…” he starts, but I wave him off and stalk toward the squad car.

I have to get away from here.

I have to think.

Benny is so close, I can taste it. He’s back and I’m going to end him.

I’ve been circling the block for twenty minutes. Dillon sent me away to clear my mind and it’s clear. Crystal clear. It’s imperative I speak with the mother of the missing girl. I know these cases are connected. I can feel it in my bones. It’s too much of a coincidence.

When her house comes into view again, I let out a rush of breath. I’ll probably get written up for disobeying orders again, but I won’t be able to sleep until it’s done. I need to talk to her.

To possibly warn her of the severity of her situation.

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