Pretty Stolen Dolls (9 page)

Picking up the doll, he walks out as I curl into the fetal position, traumatized with the reality seeping into my heart.

I wasn’t going home ever…

Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

“Detective?”

Her voice jerks me from the past and my words choke me as I try to get them out. When a large, firm hand grips my shoulder, I cry out in surprise.

Benny
.

My body moves on the instincts I’ve worked hard to build into it; my muscles coil and the kickboxing lessons come into play. Extending my arm and spinning around with my fist reared back, I prepare to slam it into his nose, my thoughts on my gun. I need it to put holes into him he will never recover from—ending this turmoil growing inside me, haunting my life.

As soon as my fist flies toward the figure of the man, confusion causes me to hesitate briefly. It’s enough of a pause that he has time to grab my wrist and twist it behind my back, forcing my body forward. Our chests touch as I fall against him, using my free hand to steady myself so my face doesn’t crash against the hard planes of his physique. My whole body quakes with terror, until his scent invades my senses and the heavy pounding of his pulse causes his heart to thump against the palm of my hand. It matches my own, battering against my ribcage, trying to tear free and put an end to it all.

Dillon.

“Jade,” he hisses, his hot breath tickling my face. “It’s me, Dillon. What the hell is going on with you?”

Fat tears well in my eyes upon realizing I lost my shit in front of the person I’ve been questioning, and worse, my partner. I don’t let the tears spill and bite my lip to keep it from wobbling. “Nothing’s wrong,” I murmur, pulling my arms free and cradling them around myself so I don’t throw them around him just for some human comfort right now. I feel weak; Benny’s winning.

His dark eyes narrow as he scrutinizes my face up close. I’ve never noticed Dillon has freckles. Or that his eyes hold sad secrets. I never noticed he smells like leather and something contradictory—peppermint, maybe? “Take a lunch break,” he says, his tone gruff. “When I wrap up here, we’re going to talk about this.” He releases me from his probing gaze and stalks back toward the shop.

Before he goes in, I shout, “Detective Scott.”

Turning, he regards me as if I’m a mystery he wants to solve. He’ll never figure me out. Hell, I can’t even figure myself out.

“Bag the boy doll. Check for prints. Miss Kline says it wasn’t here yesterday.”

It’s him
. I know it’s him.

Looking to the doll and then back at me, his eyes narrow and he doesn’t move. He must sense my hesitation. He knows I want to say more.

“What else?” he questions, his massive frame blocking the doorway.

“I think it’s
him
.” The words are spoken before I can stop them and I wish I could shove them back into my mouth.

He’ll think I’m crazy. He’ll tell Chief Stanton he wants a new partner.

“Him as in…” he starts, but I wave him off and stalk toward the squad car.

I have to get away from here.

I have to think.

Benny is so close, I can taste it. He’s back and I’m going to end him.

I’ve been circling the block for twenty minutes. Dillon sent me away to clear my mind and it’s clear. Crystal clear. It’s imperative I speak with the mother of the missing girl. I know these cases are connected. I can feel it in my bones. It’s too much of a coincidence.

When her house comes into view again, I let out a rush of breath. I’ll probably get written up for disobeying orders again, but I won’t be able to sleep until it’s done. I need to talk to her.

To possibly warn her of the severity of her situation.

Truth is, she may never get her daughter back.

A shuffling and scraping sound rouses me from slumber.

He’s back.

A grunt and then a thump has my curiosity piqued.

Slipping from the sheet he allows me to have, I creep across my cell and peek through the bars, my breath hitching when I see him there.

He’s not alone.

There’s a woman lying on his table, naked and unconscious. Sensing his movements, I quickly drop my knees to duck when he turns and walks past my cell toward the doorway leading to my freedom at the far left wall of our prison.

My heart thuds manically in my chest and there’s an excited flurry in my stomach I haven’t felt in a long time—one I thought I’d never feel again.

“Hey,” I hiss. “Hey, you,” I try again a little louder, keeping my eyes between her and the doorway.

Movements sound from Macy’s cell and she whispers, “Who is that?”

“Hey, lady.” I try rapping my hands on the wood panel of my cell door.

She stirs, her hand reaching up to rub at her head as she shifts to a sitting position. She’s not a lady at all. She’s a girl. Older than me, but still a girl—maybe nineteen, twenty.

“What happened?” she questions, her voice a thick slur, groggy sounding. Her dark hair curtains around her face as she dips her head to look down at the floor and then back up. Our eyes clash—hers confused and mine worried.

Her eyes widen and she jumps down to her feet, swaying a little. “What the fuck is happening? Who are you?” she demands, panic in her tone and volume. “Why am I naked?” This time, her voice wobbles with terror.

She isn’t here willingly.

She’s a new doll.

“Shhh,” I hush, pointing to the doorway. Her head swivels to where I gesture and she shakes it no before wobbling over to the bars separating us.

“Where are we? Why are you in there? Who is he?” she demands, her words rising in pitch with each question.

Footsteps sound from nearby and then his shadow creeps up the wall of the open doorway.

“Don’t look, Macy. Get into your bed,” I whisper-yell. The air is thick and a stirring in my stomach tells me she shouldn’t see what’s about to happen.

Neither should I…

Each step he takes toward us peels with it a piece of my soul.

The girl flattens her back against my cell door. “Stay away from me,” she screams at him, holding her hands out in front of her.

“Run,” I urge. But we both know there’s nowhere to run.

Cowering, her body scrapes across the door as his impending form strides toward her. With courage that bursts from somewhere deep within her, she launches at him, scratching at his face. He hisses and backhands her across her cheek, contacting with a stomach-lurching crunch. I gape in horror as her head jerks to the side like it’s attached to a spring and connects with my door, making it vibrate against my body.

She screams and he growls in response.

Glowering at her, he fingers the scratch she made on his face. Blood smears across his cheek and it makes him all the more menacing.

My hands turn white from gripping the bars so tight and start to lose feeling. “Stop, please,” I beg for her, but I’ve seen that look before in his eyes. I’ve been the cause of it and withstood the punishment…barely.

She gains her stability and lifts her head to look directly at me. Blood pours from her nose and she spits a tooth from her mouth, gurgling on the torrent of it. It’s like a crimson waterfall from her lips. She turns to face her new master and the indifference he shows falters as he begins grinding his teeth.

“Look what you’ve done!” he bellows, grasping her jaw between his thumb and forefinger.

Benny yanks her across the room by her chin, her feet tripping and dragging to keep up. His hand grips the back of her head as he forces her to look in a mirror stained with rust around the frame adorning the wall opposite my cell.

“You’re not a pretty doll anymore,” he growls, pushing her head forward so she can see better. With a quick motion, he pulls her head back before ramming her forward once more.

The sickening sound causes bile to rise in my throat. Someone screams and it takes me a minute to realize the horrified noise is coming from me.

Over and over again, he smashes her face against the mirror. The crunching sound of her head hitting and bones crushing under the force of his strength and then just splats causes vomit to burst from my mouth, spraying out in front of me.

It is the most disgusting and truly terrifying act I’ve ever witnessed, yet I still can’t tear my gaze. Blood coats every inch of him. Benny is a predator who just annihilated his prey. With an aggravated huff, he lets her lifeless body drop to the floor with a thump. He cracks his neck and then slowly swivels his head around, his dark, enraged eyes meeting mine.

The predator is still hungry.

A scream lodges in my throat as he advances, but dies before it can escape. Fear drives me to drop to the floor and wait for the monster pacing outside my cell. I pray he’ll sing—singing will save Macy and me from his wrath.

Dragging myself back to the present, I take a deep breath in before pulling over and stopping the car with a screech of the brakes. Before I can change my mind, I’m already stalking up toward the small, one-story home with the shutters hanging off the windows. What Benny is capable of fuels me on, charging me forward.

Clomping up the front steps, I try to calm my nerves, to take deep breaths like my stupid psychiatrist used to have me do while in our sessions.

Breathe, Jade.

You’re this girl’s only help.

She might be the key to getting Macy back.

I’m about to rap on the door when it flies open. A woman with frizzy blonde hair and bags under her eyes regards me with an expectant look.

“Did you find Alena?”

My shoulders hunch and I shake my head. “Not yet, but I promise we’re doing everything we can to find your daughter.”

Tears well in her eyes as she nods. “Please, come inside.”

I follow her into the house and take a seat in the living room. She sits in the recliner, her eyes on a photograph of Alena on the end table.

Alena is younger in the photo, maybe nine or ten. She clutches a doll with red, raggedy hair.

Pretty little doll.