Page 9 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

A bitter laugh escapes me as I motion to the blood on his chest and face.

“I held her after,” he counters.

“You’re an idiot.”

His body tenses at my insult.

“You’re a woman beating, raping, piece of shit who strangled his girlfriend to death and then panicked. You waited while your peanut-sized brain could come up with a plan, found something to cave her head in with, and then left her by the fireplace.”

I poke him in the chest and he heaves.

“The autopsy will show cause of death, idiot. But in the meantime, let me educate you. Blood doesn’t clot after death, so it sprays differently, and without the body pushing it through the veins, it just sits in there instead of pumping out.” Reaching for the back of his head, I use all my weight and force his face into the table, relishing the pop of his nose breaking.

“Motherfucking bitch, I’ll kill you!” he shouts as blood gushes from his nose.

“You tripped, and you’ll bleed more than she did.” I smirk, waltzing back through to Marcus.

“She assaulted me. She assaulted me,” he bellows.

“You tripped,” both uniforms say in unison.

“There will be an object hidden somewhere he used after death,” I bark out. “Maybe a heavy ornament or the bottom of a trophy. The throttling caused her death. I’m going to get a ride home.”

Marcus knew I’d be volatile with the suspect, that’s why he wanted me to come. He knows I hate violence against women more than anything else, but I wasn’t their entertainment. I could do his freaking job for him; I wasn’t sticking around for the cleanup.

Climbing into bed, I cuddle up to my boyfriend, Bo.

Bo Adams—the literal boy next door. When I was rescued and finally reunited with my folks, it was Bo who came to my emotional aid. My parents knew nothing of how to deal with my rage. I was furious we couldn’t find her. Furious at myself. Furious with the police. Furious with my parents.

It was Bo who showed me how to channel that aggression.

He took me to my first self-defense class only three months after I came home. My head was still fucked and I was weak, but eventually, I became obsessed. Not only did I learn how to defend myself, I learned how to seriously beat some ass if it ever came to it after taking other classes like kickboxing.

He taught me how to shoot. First just soda cans out the back of his dad’s old flatbed, but then we moved on to hunting and every kill became Benny in my eyes. Every squeeze of that trigger, the resistance, and then the kickback was gratifying. Each time, I fantasized about it penetrating his skin, blood, bone.

Bo let me channel that aggression, that hate, and what started as a friendship between he and I evolved into something more. Once I made the move to the city, Bo followed, getting a position here at the local college, and we’ve been living together ever since. He hates it when I work late and on weekends because this is all the time we get together and he isn’t even conscious for it.

I’m a terrible girlfriend, but he simply can’t see that.

Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling and will sleep to come, praying, just like every night, Benny will leave me the fuck alone.

Of course, my prayers fall on deaf ears.

He’ll be with me the moment I close my eyes.

“MISSING PERSON.WHITE FEMALE.FOURTEENyears old. Last seen at Woodland Hills mall at three-thirty yesterday afternoon. Phillips? You ready to go?”

White female. Fourteen years old.His wordsecho in my mind, causing the hairs to rise on my neck.

“What are you? Twelve?”

“I’m fourteen, and I’m not a little kid!”

“Yeah,” I bark, squeezing my eyes shut, “calm your shit, Scott.” The age of the vic makes me shudder. It’s a stark reminder of how I too was taken at that age. Forcing the memory back into the recesses of my mind, I give him a raised brow and a one-finger salute.

He grunts as he stalks off. The moment Chief Stanton assigned us to work together, Dillon has been agitated. We’ve been partners for eight months and he still treats me like I’m a thorn in his side. It might be because of my age, but I’m not sure. I was young to make detective, but I wasn’t undeserving of it. I worked my ass off to get in a position where I could actually do something about the monsters of the world.

Benny.

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