Page 65 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

He lets out a ragged sigh. “She was last seen at her dorm just as it was getting dark. Eight forty-five or so. Her roommate said she was dressed for a run, but then,” he pauses, clutching my hand, “they found her shoes in the parking lot.”

“You think Benny chased her? There’s no way he’d let her win. He’d mow her down with his dumb van,” I argue.

Dillon leans across me, his body heat burning my flesh, steals more pizza rolls, and forces two of them into my palm.

“What if he wanted her to run? To send you a message?”

My blood runs cold in my veins. “You think he chased her on purpose? Surely someone at the college would have seen.”

“Not if he abducted her, took her away from campus, and then let her go. Not if he took her someplace and did all those things to her first. Between the campus and the spot her body was found, there’s a shitty motel. What if he took her there first?” he ponders aloud.

“We need to check that motel.”

“I’ll text Jefferson and have him investigate,” he assures me.

“What’s the distance between the motel and where they found her?” My brain hurts, but I’m hell-bent on figuring this out.

He runs his fingers through his dark brown hair and tugs at it. “Look it up. Has to be at least ten miles.”

I take the laptop and check the distance.

“Thirteen miles,” we both say at once.

“So, you’re scared, running for your life,” he says quickly, “but you’re barefoot, naked, and injured. Just like you were. A normal runner could make that time quickly, but her scenario wasn’t normal. The adrenaline, though, kicks up your speed a bit. So you’d basically be close to your best time anyway.”

“Approximately ninety minutes she ran along that dark stretch of highway with him chasing her?” I question, a shiver coursing through me just thinking about the terror that girl faced.

“Give or take. It lines up with the approximate time of death, which would have occurred right around the time she made it to that spot,” he tells me. “He wanted her to run that distance from him. Probably chased her with his vehicle. When she got where he wanted her, he dispatched her.”

His eyes find mine, questions dancing in them.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

“How long did you tell them you ran for?” he inquires before shoving a pizza roll into his mouth. I’m still holding the two he gave me in my palm.

“I didn’t know. Told them it seemed like hours. By the time I came to three weeks later, they’d already canvassed a six-mile radius in search of my sister. They found nothing. And when I told them to search farther, they kindly explained it wasn’t possible in my condition. Six miles was stretching it.”

Tugging one of the pizza rolls from my hand, he makes me eat it, and then the other one before he speaks again.

“What if you ran farther than those six miles? What if he’s leaving a clue so you’ll come find him?” His brows furl together, as if the very notion pisses him off.

“He clearly left that clue on the craft fair’s website. Just a small detail to get me out there on my own. When I got to that booth, there was just the single abused doll with the message on it. I think he probably would have tried to lure me away from the crowd and taken me again had Officer Douche not gone all psycho football player on me.”

Dillon’s features harden. “What was the message on the doll you said he left you? It was missing when they went back to check the scene.”

DIRTY LITTLE DOLL.

My throat constricts and I choke out the words. “It’s what he used to call me…”

“Dirty little doll,” he says with a low growl. Even though it’s spoken by Dillon and not Benny, it still sends a ripple of terror quivering through me. His arm wraps around me and he pulls me against his side. “It was carved along the homicide vic’s upper chest post mortem.” He lets out a furious hiss. “I’m going to slice that motherfucker from his throat to his dick and let you rip his goddamned insides out.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO STAYhere with your doors locked at all times. Shoot any motherfucker who dares enter unless it’s me, of course,” Dillon says with a smirk, the steam from his coffee billowing around his face.

He looks sexy as hell today in a pair of black slacks and a fitted pale blue button-up shirt. Because it’s hotter than hades outside, he’s already rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. The muscles in his forearms ripple with each movement. The veins are plentiful and prominent—just like his cock. And I should know, I got a close up encounter from my knees in the middle of the night.

Despite the horrors around me, I’m oddly satisfied Dillon and I have grown closer. It takes the edge off the ever-present stress. I’ve actually enjoyed myself while with him. Even though we’ve been working together to find Benny and Macy, he’s also distracted me. We’re able to turn all that off the moment his body joins with mine. I’ve never had a safe haven before…it’s always been Benny stuck inside my head twenty-four seven.

Dillon drives him away.

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