Amanda Stevens - The Dollmaker

He drew a long breath as he stared off into the darkness. He could barely remember a time he hadn’t been in love with Claire. He’d loved her when they married, loved her even more after the birth of their baby, and had still loved her when his discontent first began to stir. His restlessness didn’t have anything to do with her. His dark moods were never about Claire or his feelings for her. Sometimes Dave wondered if there was something inside him that just wouldn’t let him be happy.

And then Ruby had been taken, and nothing else had mattered but drinking himself into oblivion.

His hand tightened around the glass and he hesitated only for a moment before tossing the contents into the bushes. Maybe tonight wasn’t the best time to test himself, after all.

He felt someone come up behind him, but he didn’t turn. Not until he heard her voice.

“Dave?”

He closed his eyes briefly as pain washed over him. He thought it ironic that the abuses he’d heaped upon his body for so long could heal so quickly, with hardly any scars, but the wounds inside him, even after seven years, were still raw.

He took a moment before he turned to face her. “Hello, Claire.”

She stood in the shadows, but the glow from the tiny white lights that wound through the trees filtered down on her face. She looked pale, blond, serene. Almost like a dream.

Her eyes met his and he saw her lift a hand to her throat, as if she wasn’t quite sure why she had approached him. “I thought I glimpsed you earlier, but I wondered if I was seeing things. This is just about the last place I expected to run into you.”

Dave mustered a faint smile. “I could say the same about you.”

“I came with Charlotte. She works for Lee Elliot in the D.A.’s office.”

“So I heard. She always did have ambition. Give her another year and she’ll be running that office.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Claire glanced away, as if she’d already run out of things to say to him. “How do you know Lee Elliot?”

“I don’t. I’m not here to support his campaign. I came to meet a client. I’ve got my investigation business going again.”

“You’re back in New Orleans?”

Was that dread he heard in her voice? “No. I moved the office to Morgan City.”

“Are you staying with Marsilius?”

“I’ve got my own place, but I’m close enough that he thinks he has to keep an eye on me.”

Somebody needs to.

No one spoke the words, but Dave had a feeling they were both thinking the same thing. He looked off through the French doors to the ballroom, where the waiters continued to circulate through the crowd with their gleaming trays.

“You look good, Dave.”

The compliment drew his gaze back in surprise. “So do you.”

“No, I mean…you look really good.”

He knew what she meant. “I’ve stopped drinking.” He paused and shrugged. “Let me rephrase that. I’m not drinking tonight.”

“One day at a time,” she said softly.

“Always.”

Someone laughed in the crowd behind her, and Claire turned to glance over her shoulder. When her gaze came back to Dave, she smiled, and the fist around his heart tightened. “I should go find Charlotte. She promised we wouldn’t stay long, and I’m going to hold her to it.”

“Good luck with that.”

She smiled again, not his smile, but one that still tightened his chest. She lingered for a split second before giving a little head shake as if she couldn’t quite believe that they were standing face-to-face. “It was good seeing you, Dave.”

“You, too, Claire.”

She wound her way through the crowd toward the French doors, and Dave came out of the shadows so that he could watch her until she was out of sight. She moved like the ghost she was, floating in front of him one moment, gone the next, an elusive specter banished back to the past.

Dave turned away, telling himself not to go there. What he and Claire had was over. Dead. Buried. Let it rest.

But some ghosts never went away. They lingered forever, existing on the fringes of his life, wandering in and out of his dreams, materializing now and then to remind him of what he’d lost and what he could never have again.

Some ghosts would never be exorcised no matter what he did. Especially when the ghost was the only woman he’d ever loved.

“Was that Dave I saw you with on the terrace?” Charlotte asked as she came up beside Claire. “What did he want?”

“He didn’t want anything,” she said a little defensively. “I glimpsed him through the crowd and I went over to say hello. And please don’t start with me. I’m not in the mood.”

Charlotte lifted a brow at her sister’s tone. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t going to say a word.”

“I find that hard to believe, knowing your opinion on Dave.”

“Maybe I’m feeling a little more charitable tonight,” Charlotte muttered, lifting her champagne glass. She looked off across the crowd. “Did he say anything?”

“About what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, about what he’s doing these days. What’s he up to?”

Claire turned. “He’s reopened his P.I. office over in Morgan City, but why in the world do you care? Since when have you become so interested in Dave Creasy?”

Charlotte’s gaze was still on the crowd. “I heard his name mentioned recently in conjunction with an NOPD homicide investigation. You know how territorial cops are. I wouldn’t want him getting in over his head, that’s all.”

Claire stared at her sister for a moment. “Never mind about Dave. He can take care of himself. I want to know what’s up with you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve been acting strange all evening. You hardly said a word when you picked me up, and then you deserted me as soon as we walked through the door. And now you actually sound worried about Dave. What’s going on with you?”

Charlotte’s gaze darted away, but not before Claire glimpsed a sheen of tears in her green eyes. “I guess I’m just feeling a little guilty tonight.”

“About what?”

“I shouldn’t have tried to discourage you about finding that doll. And then I dragged you here, after you just got out of the hospital….” She turned to Claire. “I’m a terrible sister.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve always been very supportive, and I don’t blame you for having your doubts about the doll. I know how bizarre it sounds.”

“Don’t do that,” Charlotte said almost angrily.

“Do what?”

“Excuse my behavior. You and Mama have been doing that all my life. Maybe it’s time you both take off your rose-colored glasses. I’m not a good person, Claire. I’m selfish and ambitious, and when I see something I want, I go after it, without regard to the consequences.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute. That’s not the Charlotte I know.”

“That’s just it,” she said sadly. “You don’t know me at all. And you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

She walked off then, leaving Claire to stare after her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dave standing just inside the terrace doorway, and when she turned, their gazes met across the room. She wondered if she should go back over to him, warn him about Charlotte’s concerns. But before she could make up her mind, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

After Dave left the Hotel Monteleone, he drove to a dive off Highway 90 and sat in the parking lot, watching the neon light flicker over the doorway as he tried to convince himself he could get through the night without a drink. Best thing he could do was go home and get a good night’s sleep.