Page 79 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

“How you holdin’ up, Phillips?” Chief Stanton questions, lines of worry crinkling his already aging face.

After Dillon fucked me until I was mentally numb, he let us sleep and as soon as the sun kissed the bed sheet with its morning glow, he dragged me back up to the station because Chief wanted to see us.

I shrug my shoulders and sip the coffee we picked up at Starbucks on the way over here. “Hunky fucking dory, Chief,” I deadpan.

Dillon boldly reaches over and takes my free hand. “She’s dealing about as well as can be expected for someone who saw her parents’ brutally murdered bodies. She’s holding up and that’s all anyone can expect. How do you think she’s doing?”

Stanton glances at our hand holding, but nods. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you. When some psychopath targets one of our own, it gets everyone around here rattled. This fucker has evaded us long enough. We all want justice. Each of us wants to be the one to bring that prick in and throw him behind bars. It will happen, Phillips. We’re working ‘round the clock and checking every lead. He’s not going to hurt you. That’s a promise.”

I swallow down my bitterness. “Benny’s good. Always two steps ahead. He’ll get what he wants.”Me.

Chief shakes his head in denial. “No. Not this time. I’ve assigned a uniform to stay outside your place—always on duty. And from the looks of it,” he says with an unamused raise of his eyebrow, “Dillon’s taking good care of you. That psychopath isn’t getting anywhere near you.”

I don’t even try to force a fake smile. Chief has no inclination of how determined Benny is. He’ll stop at nothing. The asshole’s made that perfectly clear.

“Any details on the phone?” Dillon questions.

Chief grumbles. “We couldn’t trace his call, but we did lift a partial print from the burner phone. Lab is running it through AFIS. Hopefully we’ll get a hit. Let’s all send a prayer to the man above that the prick is in the system.”

Dillon squeezes my hand and a flutter of hope filters through me. For eight years, I’ve been chasing a ghost. Now, the ghost is very much alive and haunting the fuck out of me. But for the first time, we might be able to close in on him.

Hang in there, Macy.

Mom and Dad may be gone, but I’m still here.

“Scott,” Chief huffs, “take Phillips, and for the love of God, make her eat something. Tomorrow, I’ll brief you on any new details or if we get a hit on AFIS. Look after our girl.”

“I want to work,” I tell them both, and they just stare at me like I said I want to eat babies or some shit.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen, Phillips. You need to take time off and look after yourself. You have to bury your folks and grieve for your loss.”

Bury them.

Oh God.

He gives me a curt nod before waving us out of the office. Dillon pulls me to my feet and wraps his arm over my shoulder as we exit. All eyes are on us as he parades me through the precinct, showing all of them I’m under his protection. We get a few raised eyebrows and crude remarks along the way, but I’m okay with that. I’ve never felt so accepted. The entire time I’ve worked here, I’ve been regarded as fragile and broken.

Dillon doesn’t care about any of that and holds onto me anyway.

It’s us against them.

It’s us againsthim.

“Are you going to stand there until I eat? Shouldn’t you be off finding bad guys?” I snap. “Findingourbad guy?”

Dillon lifts a dark brow. “As a matter of fact, I’m not leaving this morning until you eat that waffle I made you. This past week, you’ve barely touched anything. If we’re going to find him, I need you at full strength.”

Dillon brought all the case files home with him and let me go through them while he works each day. My parents’ file, he managed to keep away from me, and I was grateful to him for that. Seeing them in the flesh at their murder scene was bad enough. I couldn’t handle their pictures. We had nothing. Benny is so clean, it’s as if he’s a genius when it comes to this sick shit. He isn’t in the system and didn’t leave DNA on the rape victim. He used and dumped Bo’s vehicle, so we don’t know what it is he drives himself. We have an image, but it’s not the best resolution and could be anyone. I know for a fact Benny is isolated. He hardly ever left us alone, so he must not have friends or family. Posters and appeals went out this week with the image, but nothing that’s led to anything substantial has come back.

“Jade?” Dillon queries at my silence.

With a curled lip of disgust, I stab at my waffle and make a great show of stuffing a piece into my mouth, even going as far as to chew with my mouth open. He chuckles, and for the first time in a week, I find myself fighting a genuine smile.

“You’re a brat,” he says, sipping his coffee.

“I just hate feeling like a prisoner.”

He winces at my words and I instantly hate myself for even remotely comparing him to Benny. Benny held me against my will. Starved and tortured me. Raped me at every turn. His abuse was far from physical, though. He psychologically forced himself against me. Imbedded himself inside my brain and wreaked havoc. They are nothing alike.

---