Page 18 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

“Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick.

So she phoned for the doctor to be quick, quick, quick.”

He reemerges from her cell singing his creepy song while picking up the pieces of his broken doll outside our cells. She will never go back to being his pretty doll again. Just like Macy will now forever bear his jagged mark on her face. Just like I will never be able to hide the cracks he has created within me.

I know from hearing his song he won’t visit my cell tonight, or my sister’s. Thank God. He will leave us and tomorrow we won’t get fed. But at least we’ll get a reprieve from the monster who holds our destiny in the palm of his wicked hand.

“Jade, what the hell are you humming? Are you sure you want to be in here?”

My eyes snap to Dillon’s, but the memory hangs thick in the air. I can almost taste the dust from my cell. Almost smell Benny’s familiar scent lingering like a cloying fog. “Humming?”

He shakes his head and eyes me like I’ve lost my mind. “Yeah, some creepy-ass tune.”

Too afraid to touch on the fact that Benny is still with me, I ignore him and glare at the uniform. “Anything else you want to do to disturb the crime scene? Maybe sit and play in her blood?” I snap, gesturing to the door with a stern finger. “Show me where the witness is.”

I follow the stuttering officer out, ignoring the burning gaze at my back.

This has Benny written all over it.

He’s here.

He took that girl. He wants a new doll.

Why this shop? Killing a woman of this age for no reason isn’t his MO. He was premeditated when it came to taking a girl. Murdered when enraged. Has he evolved? Did he need supplies? Was he really back?

“ARE YOUMADISONKLINE?”

The twenty-something woman nods, her eyes wide with fright. “Is it true? Is Mrs. Hawthorne…” her voice croaks, “d-dead?”

I look to the store window a few feet away from where I brought her outside the tape to get some privacy from the thickening crowd. One of the medical examiners is standing with his back to us, staring down at the body. His hand motions to the wound on her neck as he says something to his partner. Dragging my eyes back to the woman, I let out a sigh.

“I’m afraid so. I’m going to need to ask you some questions.”

She nods, a small, wobbly frown at her lips, but her now teary eyes stay trained on the window. “Who would do such an awful thing? Mrs. Hawthorne was the nicest person. She made dolls for crying out loud. It’s not like we even sold enough for anyone to rob us. I just don’t understand.”

I reach for her and grip her shoulder. “Some people are evil, Miss Kline. We may not understand their reasoning.” Releasing her, I give her a grim smile. “The best we can do now is catch the man who did this.”

Her brows furrow together. “Man?”

Heat floods my cheeks and I swallow. “Person,” I rush out, correcting myself.

Although homicides are committed by men over eighty percent of the time, it was still a slip that shouldn’t have happened.

Benny.

“We’re going to catch the perpetrator. Now, can you tell me where you were between the hours of eight and midnight last night?”

Miss Kline nods. “At home. I took a shower around eight. Watched television until about ten before going to bed. Why?”

“Can anyone corroborate your statement?” She’s not a suspect, I’m simply doing due diligence.

“My ma. I still live at home.”

I cast my gaze down to my notebook while I scribble information for my report later when she steps past me, her fingertip touching the glass of the shop window.

Turning my head, I watch her as she stares inside. I half expect her to burst into tears at seeing the body from the window, but she jerks her tearstained face to mine instead, pointing to the row of dolls up front.

“This wasn’t here yesterday. It’s not one of ours.”

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