Amanda Stevens - The Dollmaker

The child stood transfixed by the scene. Her expression was rapt, and he swiveled around to watch her, but the movement startled her and she backed away.

“No, don’t go,” he said softly. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

Sliding off his stool, he walked over to the little table and knelt beside the doll with the turquoise eyes.

“This is Maddy. Today is her birthday.”

The little girl said nothing, but she didn’t try to run away. She was captivated by the dolls.

He went around the table and made the introductions, and when he finished, he motioned to the empty chair at the end. “Come join the party.”

The child shook her head. “I want to call my mama.”

“In a little while perhaps.”

“I want to go home.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging dejectedly. “Please don’t be tiresome about this. Remember what happened the last time?”

The little girl flinched as fear crept back into her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. Slowly she nodded.

“Then come sit down and have some cake.”

She walked over to the table and sat down at the empty space. A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. She scrubbed it away with her knuckles.

“You’ll feel better after you eat.” He cut a piece of the strawberry cake and placed it on the table in front of her. Then he cut pieces for everyone at the table and one for himself. He sat cross-legged on the floor and ate, his gaze never leaving the child’s face.

At that moment he felt happier than he had in a long time. All that business in New Orleans was behind him now. Maddy was home safe and sound, and all was well in the private little world he’d created.

In spite of her tears, the child’s company made him almost euphoric. He loved having her companionship. He always did. But he couldn’t keep her here much longer. Once the doll was finished, he would have to send her away.

He wouldn’t worry about that now, though. He didn’t want to spoil the party. Besides, even after she was gone, a part of her would remain with him always. Just like the others.

And when they were all finally together, the way they were meant to be, no one would ever take them from him again.

After Alex left, Claire managed to convince Charlotte to go home for the night, but Lucille wouldn’t budge. “No kid of mine ever spent the night alone in a hospital, and I don’t see any reason to start now.”

“But, Mama, I’m fine. There’s no point in wearing yourself out.”

“Claire, terrible things can happen in a place like this.” Lucille’s eyes, small and unblinking, were dead serious. She sat in a chair next to the bed, shoes kicked off, feet propped on the mattress. Her toenails were painted bright red. The lacquer matched the lipstick she’d reapplied after her last cigarette, but the crimson had already started to bleed into the deep crevices around her mouth, giving her a grotesque appearance in the harsh lighting.

“Nothing is going to happen to me in the hospital, Mama.”

“You don’t know that. You’re at their mercy once they get you all doped up on morphine.”

“They didn’t give me any morphine.”

“Well, they gave you something for pain, didn’t they?” Lucille brushed stray ashes off the front of her T-shirt. “I ever tell you what happened to my cousin Corinne?”

“She got a staph infection from a contaminated needle.”

“That’s right, she did. The nurse dropped the syringe on the floor, picked it up and stuck it right in Corinne’s arm. Didn’t bother to wipe it off or nothing. Took twenty years, but that infection finally killed her.” Lucille’s birdlike eyes gleamed knowingly. “Now don’t you think Corinne wished someone had been watching out for her that day?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Lucille nodded in satisfaction. “You just close your eyes and get some rest. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I’ll be right here all night if you need me.”

Twenty minutes later, she was snoring softly, her head thrown back against the chair, mouth open. Claire wanted to wake her and send her home, but Lucille would swear she wasn’t a bit sleepy, she was just resting her eyes.

Turning off the light, Claire sat in the dark for a while, trying to sort through her emotions. Her nerves vibrated like a taut rubber band as the antiseptic walls closed in on her. A nurse had brought her something for the pain after Charlotte left, but the medication wasn’t working.

Slipping out of bed, Claire walked over to the window to watch the storm. Thunder rumbled overhead and the rain came down hard, blurring the city lights like a soft-focus filter.

And then just like that it was over. The storm moved farther inland, the rain stopped and moonlight broke through the clouds. The dripping treetops glistened and the lights from passing cars painted the glossy streets with misty streaks of color.

After the rain, ditches and backyards would come alive with the sounds of crickets and frogs, but inside Claire’s hospital room, all was silent except for Lucille’s soft snoring.

Climbing back in bed, Claire reached for the remote to the TV. Turning down the volume, she surfed until she finally found a cable news channel. She watched images from a car bombing in the Middle East and a mud slide in Southern California, but her attention was caught by the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen.

An Amber alert was in effect for a seven-year-old Alabama girl who’d been missing for nearly a week. The FBI and local authorities were still combing a wooded area near her home, but so far no trace of the child or her abductor had turned up. No eyewitnesses had come forward; no one had seen anything. It was as if the little girl had gotten off the school bus one afternoon and disappeared into thin air.

Claire watched the scroll until the broadcast finally switched to a video feed from Linden, Alabama. They ran footage of the search, an interview with the local sheriff and a tearful plea from the mother for her daughter’s safe return.

“That poor woman.”

Claire hadn’t realized that her mother was awake, but when she turned her head, she saw the sheen of her eyes in the light from the television screen. Some of Lucille’s hair had come loose from the bun, and the strands coiled around her face like tiny gold wires.

“I hope they catch that son of a bitch,” she said in a fierce whisper. “I’d like to get ahold of him myself.”

“I know, Mama.”

“It’s an abomination, men preying on little girls like that. They ought to fry every last one of them.”

Claire switched off the TV. She couldn’t watch anymore, and she didn’t feel like talking. The room fell silent, but her mind raced with images that had plagued her for years. Ruby was dead. In her heart, Claire knew that to be true. But what torment had the child suffered before she drew her last breath?

Claire squeezed her eyes closed, trying to shut off those terrible questions, but it was no use. Another mother’s agony, coming on the heels of seeing that doll, had reawakened her worst fears.

When Ruby first went missing, Claire had made the same plea to her daughter’s abductor. Before the camera started rolling, she’d agonized over what to say, worried herself sick that she might not be able to make it through the broadcast without breaking down. Dave had wanted to go on camera in her place, but the reporter who conducted the interview encouraged Claire to make the appeal because it would have a more visceral impact coming from the mother. So she’d gone on air and begged for her daughter’s safe return, pleaded with the kidnapper to spare Ruby’s life. And it hadn’t made any difference.

For weeks afterward, Claire worried that she’d come across badly or unsympathetic, and that’s why whoever had Ruby didn’t respond. Both Dave and the FBI agent assigned to the case told her that such an appeal was a long shot, anyway. It wasn’t her fault. But Claire had wondered for ages if she should have said or done something differently. Sometimes she still wondered.