Page 11 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

“Pfft…kids.” One of the boys folds his arms and glares at me. “Yeah, so what? It’s not a crime.”

“Seen this girl?” I ask, holding up her image.

The group visibly relaxes and a girl with black hair slicked back into a ponytail steps forward. She smacks her gum and narrows her eyes. “Yeah, I think I saw her at Raze yesterday. She was trying on some glittery-ass pumps only white girls would be caught dead wearing.” The group sniggers, all except a petite creamy-skinned girl holding hands with a boy the forthcoming girl can’t keep her eyes off. I raise a brow at her.

“Do you have a sister?” I question, my voice gentle.

She tilts her head to the girl beside her who looks just like her. “Keisha, yeah. So?”

“Alena is someone’s sister. Someone took her from her family. The world is full of evil, vile people. Every second is precious in finding this girl. If it were Keisha, you’d want help too.”

Her gaze softens and she glances at Keisha. “I saw her talking to a guy outside the store.”

My interest piques and I flip open my pad. “Guy? Describe the guy.”

“I don’t know. Kinda cute, I guess, if you like Orlando Bloom.” Her sister snickers and a cold chill washes over me.

“Please be more descriptive. What’s your name?”

“Kiki.”

“What did the man look like, Kiki? Was he young? Old? Did he have facial hair? What was he wearing?”

She plays with the hoop earring in her ear while looking over my face. “Maybe like your age. You know, old. He had curly brown hair. I guess he was cute. White girl thought so. Her face was bright-ass red and the girl was smiling so big, I thought she was planning their wedding in her head or some shit.”

A shudder ripples through me. I remember the way he made me and Macy smile. How he wooed us right into his van.It’s him. It has to be him.A sense of urgency and then blood curdling alarm trickles through my veins and settles in my heart.Thud,thud,thud. If it is him and he’s looking for a new doll, what if he’s finished with Macy?

“Can you tell me anything else? Did you hear them talking? Did he force her to go with him?” I bark, my height leering over her, causing her to lose some of the sass she held in her posture moments before. Her hand drops from her hip and cradles around her stomach.

She shrugs, but her voice holds a slight quiver. “He wasn’t forcing her to do nothin’. She just nodded her head at whatever he said and followed him.”

With a sigh, I force a smile even though I want to throw up. “Thanks. Anyone else see anything that can help us in our investigation?” I still don’t have anything I can really work with—no trail to follow. Just a description that could be him, but also a thousand other men.

They all shake their heads and I try not to let the crush of defeat swallow me whole.

This isn’t defeat; this still could be a lead. The perp sounds oddly likehimand the behavior matches his MO.

I will find his ass eventually.

“There.” I point to the image on the monitor from the mall’s security footage. It’s Alena leaving the store alone and a man matching the description Kiki gave follows less than a minute later. His head is down and he slips a baseball cap on to hide his face. “Can you alter the angle?” I demand.

“No, this is the only one that faces that part of the mall,” the tech guy announces, playing around with buttons and bringing the lighting up a notch on the screen to better illuminate the picture. This room is small and stuffy as hell. It’s claustrophobic for a mall this big and there has to be a hundred monitors in here. Dillon’s huge frame crowds my own in the tiny space and every time I inhale, it’s his exhale I’m filling my lungs with. He smells sweet like he’s sucking on some candy. My stomach growls and I roll my eyes at the very thought of sweet and Dillon in the same thought.

“What about the exits?” Dillon asks, leaning over the guy’s shoulder and brushing my arm as he does. An icy shiver runs through me despite the heat of the room. I don’t do well in cramped spaces.

He types stuff into his computer and clicks on a file. “When you guys called this morning, I got straight on here and found the girl,” he says, jabbing his finger at the screen. “That’s her exiting the mall.”

He shows us the girl on a different camera. She’s leaving via the southwest parking lot and quickly goes out of view. The security guy lifts his hand to end the footage and I grab his wrist, stopping him. “Wait.” Moments later, the man in the cap comes out.

My heart rate increases as I watch the man on the screen. He doesn’t look big enough to be Benny, but it’s been eight years since I last saw him. He could have lost weight and mass.

It’s him. It has to be him.

“He goes a different direction,” Dillon announces, dropping his gaze to my chest and then looking away. It’s subtle, but I pick up on it straightaway. Heat floods through me which doesn’t help my situation in this cramped room.

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t come back,” I argue, fanning myself, “or cut her off a different way.”

His head swivels back to me, dark brows pinched together as he scrutinizes me. “Or he’s just a guy leaving the mall to go home.”

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