“I’ve worked several of these cases, but Ryan was the one who first noticed the similarities between the victims, especially the makeup,” Bria said. “He started going back through his files and compiling a list of similar cases. Xavier’s been helping too, and this is what the three of us have come up with so far.”
“A jackpot of evil,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” Bria said. “That about sums it up.”
“So if you know that there’s a serial killer on the loose in Ashland, then why are all of these cases down here in storage?”
Bria and Ryan shared a grim look.
“Our superiors aren’t as convinced,” she said. “They think that the cases are unrelated. Or rather, they don’t want them to be related. They think that Ashland has enough crime and corruption without adding a serial killer to the mix.”
Well, that was certainly true. For as violent as Ashland was, there was usually a method to the madness. Somebody had something that someone else wanted, so they took it by force. Or somebody screwed someone else over in some other way, and the wronged party came back for revenge. Not to mention all the territorial disputes between gangs, criminals jacking their rivals’ shipments of guns and drugs and money, and desperate folks knocking over convenience stores for petty cash. And of course there were the old traditional standbys: people hurting each other because of money, love, jealousy, or all three.
But a serial killer, someone whose dark motives and even darker desires were known only to him, who could strike at any time and in any place without any rhyme, reason, or warning . . . That was truly frightening, even in Ashland.
“And of course the higher-ups are worried about the media attention,” Bria continued. “They can just see the headlines. Dollmaker strikes again. Dollmaker claims another victim. Dollmaker still on the loose.”
“Dollmaker?” I asked.
She shrugged. “We had to call him something. But his name doesn’t really matter, just the headlines he could generate. At least, that’s what our bosses think. They want to avoid the bad press at all costs, along with the resulting panic it would create.”
I snorted. “You mean the esteemed members of the po-po just want to cover their own asses because they haven’t been able to catch this guy yet.”
Bria nodded. “Yeah. That too.”
The three of us fell silent, although my gaze locked onto that plastic bag full of compacts, eye shadow, and mascara again. Out of all the things you could do to someone, why put makeup on them? And why paint every woman’s lips the exact same shade of red? Why not pink or purple or even black? Why not just use the woman’s favorite lipstick from her own purse?
Ryan was right. How these women looked—the young pretty faces, the long blond hair, the makeup—it all had to mean something to the killer. But what? Maybe it was all tied to some woman he’d once loved, like Ryan thought. Maybe he was Dr. Frankenstein trying to create—or recreate—his own perfect mate. Or maybe it was something else entirely. No way to know for sure.
Until I caught the bastard.
“So you two think that the dead woman tonight, the one with my spider runes lipsticked on her palms, is another one of the Dollmaker’s victims?” I asked.
“I do,” Ryan said. “Her injuries are consistent with the other women’s, and she has traces of makeup all over her face. Beaten, strangled, and dumped in Ashland. It’s the same guy. The only thing that’s different are your spider runes drawn on her palms. He’s never done that before. Never left any sort of runes or symbols behind on the bodies.”
“What do you think it means?” Bria asked, looking at me. “Do you think that it’s some sort of challenge to you? To catch him before he kills again?”
My head started pounding from all the unanswered questions. “I have no idea. I’m not blond, though, so why would he even care about me? Besides, I’m not known as a crime fighter. More like a crime killer. But whatever the runes mean, we have to find and stop this guy before he kidnaps his next victim.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “I hate to point out the obvious, but I think it’s already too late for that. Bria showed me a photo of that missing girl you’re searching for. Young, pretty, long blond hair. She fits his type to a T.”
With the sickening spider rune and serial killer revelations, I’d momentarily forgotten that Elissa Daniels was still missing. The ache in my head intensified.
“Plus, he’s been escalating,” Ryan said in a somber voice. “Kidnapping and killing the women closer together. Going from months between kills down to weeks. And it will only get worse.”
I glanced down at the photos laid out on the table again. Ryan was right. Elissa looked exactly like all the other victims. Young, blond, pretty. More important, she’d been at Northern Aggression last night.
I thought back to the security footage I’d watched. Something had caught Elissa’s attention and made her walk around to the back of the nightclub. Maybe she’d seen the killer messing around back there. Maybe the killer had realized that Elissa spotted him. Maybe he’d even called out to her, asking her to come help with his sick friend or some other ruse like that. Either way, the Dollmaker had just gotten rid of his latest victim, and he would have probably leaped at the opportunity to snatch up a new plaything. Elissa had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she was suffering horribly for it.
“I want all your files,” I told Ryan. “Every note you’ve made, every scrap of evidence you’ve collected, every theory you’ve ever dreamed up about this guy. I want copies of all of it. And I want to know everything you find out when you autopsy this latest woman, especially when it comes to my spider runes on her hands.”
He nodded at me.
I turned to Bria. “And I want all of your notes, Xavier’s too. Info on every victim you’ve identified, background on all their friends and family, every time, date, and place this guy has dropped a body in Ashland, if there are any similar cases outside the city. Everything.”
She nodded too.
“What are you going to do, Gin?” Ryan asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“What I do best.” I gave him a grim smile. “I’m going to find this bastard and put him in the ground.”
13
Bria stayed behind in the cold-case room with Ryan, pulling out her phone and asking Xavier to come help them make copies of the files. I went back to the coroner’s office. Jade was slumped against the wall outside the office, with Sophia standing by her side.
Jade gave me a weary look, but she straightened up and pushed herself away from the wall. “Do you know anything else about that dead girl? Or Elissa?”
I shook my head. “Nothing concrete right now. I’m sure that Dr. Colson will do the autopsy tonight, so we might know more in the morning. Maybe he’ll find something that will at least help identify the woman, so her family can be notified.”
Jade nodded, although disappointment pinched her face. Elissa still being missing was bad enough, but my heart twisted at the thought of what I had to tell her about the Dollmaker and how he most likely had her sister.
I turned to Sophia. “You’ve been great today. I’ll take Jade home now. Thank you, Sophia.”
“Keep me posted,” she rasped.
“Of course.”
The Goth dwarf nodded at me, gently squeezed Jade’s arm, and walked off down the hallway, leaving me alone with the other woman.
Jade studied my face, her gaze sharpening. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Something bad. What is it?”
My heart twisted a little more. “Not here. I’ve had enough of this place for one night, and I’m sure you have too. I’ll tell you everything I know when we get to your house.”
• • •
Jade and I left the coroner’s office and walked over to my car. Even though it was creeping up on midnight now, the streets between t
he police station and my car were even busier than before, but all the hookers, pimps, and dealers gave us a wide berth.
Jade glanced around, watching everyone duck their heads, step back into the shadows, and do their best not to catch my attention. “I see that they know you around here.”
The image of those blood-red spider runes on the dead girl’s hands flashed through my mind. My heart twisted. “Yeah. You might say that.”
We reached my car. After making sure that no one had left any rune traps or bombs on the vehicle, we got inside. Jade rattled off her address, and I left the downtown loop behind and steered in that direction. She lived in a subdivision close to Jo-Jo Deveraux’s, although her sprawling, one-story, gray brick house was far more modest than the dwarf’s elegant antebellum home.
Jade unlocked the front door, and we stepped into an office that took up the front half of the house. Several workstations were spread throughout the area, each featuring an all-in-one computer and monitor, along with a phone, pens, notepads, paper clips, and other office paraphernalia. Since it was so late, no one was working, although red lights blinked on several of the phones, indicating a multitude of messages.
Jade saw my surprised look, and a faint grin lifted her lips. “What did you think it would look like? Some Old West bordello swathed in black lace? Roslyn Phillips might go in for red velvet at her club, but I do things a little differently.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit more high-tech than I anticipated.”
Jade shrugged. “It’s not just sending folks out on paid dates. That’s only a small part of my business these days, one that I’m slowly phasing out. I actually make a lot more money from my cleaning, temp, and other service businesses.”
“You’re quite the entrepreneur.”
She shrugged again. “I never wanted to be like my mother and have to depend on anyone else to support me. I never wanted to have to play all of the games that she did, and I especially never wanted to be as desperate as she was.”
“So you built your own business empire instead. Smart.”
For a moment, a spark of pride flashed in her eyes, but the light was quickly snuffed out. “Not smart enough. Not to protect Elissa.”
I didn’t respond. Nothing I could say would make the situation any better. And what I had to tell her about the Dollmaker . . . that was another blow that couldn’t be softened.
Jade gestured for me to follow her, and we left the high-tech office behind and walked down a long hallway that opened into a kitchen. Unlike the sleek professionalism of the front of the house, this area was much more lived-in, with bills and junk mail piled on the countertop, a bowl of soggy cereal sitting on the kitchen table, and an enormous cookie jar shaped like a giant chocolate cake perched next to the stove.
Jade caught me staring at the cookie jar, and her face brightened. “That was a Christmas present from Elissa. Going out and getting dessert is one of our traditions. We’ve done it ever since she was a little girl. Every time we go on vacation, we try to find a new dessert to try . . .”
Jade stared at the cookie jar a second longer, then went over to one of the cabinets, yanked it open, and pulled out a large bottle of gin, along with two glasses. She poured a regular amount of liquor into one glass and held it out to me. I took it from her, and she turned her attention to the second glass, which she filled all the way to the brim. Jade downed half of the liquid in one gulp, shuddering a little, as though it burned her throat, before she looked at me again.
“You’ve put it off long enough. Tell me what you found out.” Her fingers curled tightly around the glass. “I want to hear it, no matter how bad it is.”
I downed my own gin, fortifying myself with a bit of liquid courage, and told her everything that Bria and Ryan had told me about the Dollmaker.
Jade’s eyes grew wider and wider, and her face went paler and paler the longer I talked. By the time I finished, her pretty features were twisted into one of the most horrified expressions I’d ever seen. She started to raise her glass to her lips again to down the rest of her drink, but it slipped from her trembling hand and shattered on the floor, spraying shards and liquid everywhere. She clapped her hand over her mouth, whirled around, and ran out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, I heard her retching.
Yeah, I felt sick to my stomach too.
I put my own empty glass down on the counter. I found Jade slumped beside a toilet in a bathroom down the hall. She’d already emptied her stomach and flushed the contents away. Now she just sat there, curled up against the toilet, her body sagging against the cold white porcelain, tears streaming down her face.
“A serial killer,” she said, her voice coming in ragged gasps. “A fucking serial killer has my sister. Why? Why is this happening? Why Elissa? She never hurt anybody. She doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’m sorry, Jade. So sorry.”
She looked up at me, and her face just crumpled. More tears rolled down her cheeks, and she cradled her head in her hands and started sobbing.
I went over and sat down beside her, wedging myself between her and the sink. Jade kept right on crying, so I slung my arm around her shoulders and held her tight, trying to offer what little comfort I could, even though each one of her gasping, heaving, choking sobs ripped at the black threads of my heart, tearing them to shreds.
• • •
Jade’s heartbreak and exhaustion finally caught up with her, and her tears slowed and finally stopped—for now.
I helped her to her room, tucked her into bed, and waited until she’d fallen asleep before I slipped back out into the kitchen. By this point, it was after one o’clock in the morning, but I didn’t want to leave her alone, so I called Owen and told him that I was spending the night at Jade’s house. He was waiting up for me and as supportive as always, which warmed my heart despite everything that had happened.
“Do me a favor,” I said.
“Anything.” Owen’s voice rumbled in my ear.
“Go hug Eva for me. And Violet too, if she’s there.”
“You got it,” he said, his tone suddenly thick with emotion. “Do you think . . . do you think that you can find Elissa before it’s too late?”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my aching forehead. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I’m going to try my best.”
“Well, I have faith in you,” Owen said. “If anyone can find and stop this guy, it’s you, Gin.”
My throat closed up at his strong, unwavering belief in me, especially since it was a belief that I didn’t have. Not right now. Not with the pictures of all those dead, beaten, strangled women running through my mind, mixed with the blood-red spider runes on the most recent victim’s hands.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you back,” Owen murmured in my ear.
I promised to call with any updates, and we hung up.
I checked on Jade, and she was still sleeping, so I wandered around the house, searching for a place to crash for the night. I opened a closed door down the hall to find another bedroom, Elissa’s bedroom.
I hesitated, my hand on the knob, wondering if I should go inside, but my curiosity got the best of me, the way it always did. So I turned on the light and slipped into the room.
It was your typical college girl’s room. Colorful clothes were strewn all over the unmade bed, while plastic baskets full of fresh, clean laundry sat in front of the open closet, waiting to be hung up and put away. A stuffed brown bear wearing a blue T-shirt with the words Ashland Community College on it perched on the corner of a white vanity table cluttered with textbooks, pens, notepads, jewelry, and nail polish. Photos were stuck in all around the edges of the vanity table mirror, showing Elissa with her friends. I leaned in for a better look.
In every single photo, Elissa
was grinning and looking into the camera, as though she were staring directly at me. After a few seconds, I shivered and dropped my gaze. I couldn’t bear to look at her smiling face right now, not when I knew how much danger she was in and how very slim my chances were of finding her.
I shifted on my feet, feeling like I was trespassing again and expecting Jade to come barging into the room at any second, demanding to know what I was doing in here. I even glanced out into the hallway, but the house was as dark and quiet as before. Jade was still sleeping. I’d already violated her and Elissa’s privacy by coming in here, so I pushed my guilt aside and decided to do something useful.
I searched Elissa’s room.
Slowly, carefully, quietly, I opened all the nightstand and vanity table drawers, rifled through all the clothes in her closet, and checked every single place where she might have hidden something that she didn’t want her big sister to see. But there was nothing. No hidden stashes of cigarettes, no drugs or alcohol, not even so much as an old-fashioned diary with a locked heart for a clasp. Elissa Daniels was exactly what she appeared to be in all the photos—a happy college girl with big plans, dreams, and hopes for her future.
A future that was rapidly running out unless I found her.
Frustrated, I plopped down on her bed and looked around the room again, but everything was the same as before. Clothes, books, furniture. Nothing that would tell me anything about Elissa that I didn’t already know and absolutely nothing that would lead me to her kidnapper—
Rattle-rattle.
The sound was soft, no louder than a whisper. But as an assassin, I’d slipped into enough places to recognize the sound of someone jimmying a lock.
Snared Page 13