Amanda Stevens - The Dollmaker

Charlotte supposed if she searched her memory banks hard enough she might be able to remember why Claire had fallen so hard for Dave Creasy. He’d once been handsome enough, before the booze destroyed his looks. Charming, too, and maybe even a little cocky when he’d first made detective. But he’d never had Alex’s sophistication or ambition. He’d never been the kind of man Charlotte would ever envision for herself, but he and Claire had once been good together. Then Ruby had disappeared and Dave had gone off the deep end. But even before that, he’d done some things to her sister that Charlotte would never be able to forgive.

In light of her current situation, she realized her attitude was probably hypocritical, and she thought there might be some truth in the old saying that everyone had the propensity to become what they hated the most. She’d despised Dave for his moral failings, and now here she was, standing naked in her brother-in-law’s bedroom.

Alex picked up his keys and wallet and stuffed them in his pockets. “I have to get to the station. There’s juice in the refrigerator and plenty of clean towels in the bathroom. Stay as long as you want. Just lock up when you leave.”

He started for the door, then turned back and walked over to where she still stood at the window. He bent to kiss her forehead, the affectionate peck of a friend—or worse, of a brother—before he straightened and ran his knuckles down the side of her face.

“Don’t beat yourself up over what happened, okay? Claire never has to know.”

But I know.

And Charlotte wondered if, years later, she would look back at some point and be able to recall that this moment was the beginning of her own moral decline.

She turned and stared into the blinding sunlight until she heard the front door close behind Alex. She was still standing at the window a few moments later when the phone on the nightstand rang, and she heard the message machine in the living room pick up. Alex’s recorded greeting came on, and then a moment later, the caller said impatiently, “You’re a hard man to reach these days. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to avoid me.”

Something in the voice, a hint of familiarity, caused Charlotte to turn away from the window and walk across the bedroom. She stood listening unabashedly to the message as she tried to put a face to the caller’s voice.

“I’ll make this real short and sweet. Dave Creasy is back in town and he’s been sniffing around the Losier case. A guy like that could really fuck up an investigation, so I suggest we pay him a little visit. The sooner the better, if you get my drift.”

Claire stood in front of the shop window and tried to convince herself that the doll had only been put away for the night. The collectibles featured in such stores were usually quite valuable, and the owner might have felt it would be too risky to leave such a costly piece so prominently displayed overnight.

The other possibility, of course, was that the doll had already been sold, but that was a bridge Claire would cross when she had to. In the meantime she could do nothing but wait until the shop opened. The hours posted on the sign that hung in the door were Ten to Six, Tuesday through Saturday. Since it wasn’t quite nine yet, she had over an hour to kill.

Claire’s first instinct was to remain in front of the shop until someone arrived to open the door, but her stomach was still queasy and she felt weak-kneed and shaky. If she remained on her feet much longer, she might pass out and find herself right back in the hospital.

Keeping to the shady side of the street, she walked over to St. Louis Cathedral to wait. The sanctuary was quiet and cool, the glare of the hot summer sun muted by the small windows.

Someone had left a pink rose on the pew where she sat, and absently she picked up the stem and held the petals to her nose. The fragrance made her think of the dream she’d had last night, and the shattered face of the doll.

Shuddering, Claire glanced around. Coming on the heels of that nightmare, the quiet of the cathedral was a little too unnerving, and after a few minutes, she got up, placed the rose on the bench and left.

Outside, she used her cell phone to call her mother and let her know that she’d already left the hospital. Lucille wasn’t thrilled by the news, and when they finally hung up, Claire knew she hadn’t heard the last of it. But a scolding from her mother was the least of her worries. She wasn’t scheduled to work in the gallery until the following day, but she’d been counting on spending several hours in the studio. Now that would have to wait until her hand healed.

As she walked past the hotels and bed and breakfasts along St. Peters, Claire couldn’t stop worrying about what she would do if the doll had been sold or if the owner refused to give her the information she needed. What recourse would she have, since no one, including Charlotte, seemed inclined to believe that the doll looked like Ruby? Maybe if she showed the shopkeeper a picture of her daughter, the woman would be moved enough to help Claire.

And what if the doll was still there? What if in the bright light of day, she didn’t look like Ruby? Would Claire then be forced to concede that Alex was right? That her refusal to let go of the past was slowly driving her crazy?

By her watch, it was straight up ten when she arrived back at the shop, but the Closed sign was still in the window, and when she tried the door, it was locked.

Shielding her eyes with her hands, Claire tried to peer through the crack at the edge of the blind, but the interior of the shop was so dim and the sun outside so bright that she couldn’t see anything.

And then, as she started to turn away, she saw something move inside the shop. A shadow wavered, and Claire quickly lifted her fist to rap on the door.

“Hello? Hello? Is someone in there?”

She put her face back up to the window and peered inside. Someone stared back at her.

“Claire, what the hell are you doing?”

At the sound of the voice behind her, Claire whirled. “Alex!” She put her hand on her heart. “You scared me half to death. I wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t exactly sneaking, but I’m not surprised you didn’t hear me. the way you were banging on that door. What are you trying to do…wake the dead?” He’d draped his suit coat over one arm and rolled up his shirtsleeves in the heat. Claire could see a fine sheen of perspiration across his brow.

“I’m trying to get someone to let me in. The store should be open by now, but the door’s still locked.” Lifting the damp hair off her neck, she twisted it up and pinned the strands with a clip she found in her purse. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Just checking up on you. I swung by the hospital on my way to the station, and when I saw your clothes gone, I figured I’d find you here.” Slowly he removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, but Claire still couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She’d never been very good at reading Alex. He kept a lot of himself hidden. After six years of marriage, sometimes it still seemed that she barely knew him at all.

It hadn’t been like that with Dave. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, and even as a kid, he’d worn his heart on his sleeve. From the very first date, Claire had always known where she stood with him…until Ruby disappeared, and then everything fell apart. He’d become someone Claire didn’t know anymore, someone who even scared her at times.

Alex had never frightened her, and in his own way, he loved her as much as Dave ever had. Maybe more. But Claire also knew that even if they stayed together for another twenty-five years, he would never understand her the way Dave had.