Amanda Stevens - The Dollmaker

“I was a cop in this town for nearly ten years. Nothing much sounds crazy to me anymore.”

“Not even a doll that looks exactly like our missing daughter?”

He glanced back down at the photograph in his hand. “Did you have the picture displayed like this when it was taken?”

“No, it was in a wooden frame. I saved almost all of Ruby’s school projects. They’re put away in boxes in the attic. I’ve never seen that before.” Claire rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “This is going to sound a little crazy, too, but I think someone is trying to send me a message.”

“Or maybe someone’s just trying to mess with your head,” he said slowly.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen this kind of thing before. Some sick creep latches on to a story and tries to make himself a part of it.”

“After seven years?”

Dave handed the picture back to her. “Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you? Anyone who might want to upset or hurt you?”

“No, not like this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure.”

His tone made Claire nervous. He was getting at something, but before she could ask him what he meant, his cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, glanced at the display and frowned. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. Do you mind?”

Claire watched as he opened the door and stepped out on the porch. She could hear him talking softly to the caller, and she told herself to tune out the conversation. Whatever was going on was none of her business.

Then she heard Ruby’s name, and followed him out to the porch. “Dave?”

His gaze met hers in the dark. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he said into the phone, then snapped it closed.

“What’s going on?” Claire asked nervously. “Who was that?”

“It’s a case I’m working on.”

“But I heard you say something about Ruby.”

“It’s not what you think. I’ve been making some inquiries about that doll maker you mentioned. I don’t have time to get into it now, but I’ll come back when I’m finished, if it’s not too late, and tell you everything I found out. Right now, though, I have to go.”

“Tell me now. You can’t make me wait!”

“She lives about thirty miles south of Houma. I swear, Claire, that’s all I know.”

Dave started down the steps, but she caught his arm. “Are you going to see her?”

“Right now? No. This doesn’t have anything to do with her.”

Claire’s grip tightened on his arm. “If you’re keeping something from me—”

“I already told you, I don’t know anything more about that doll than you do.”

“But you know something. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Claire, for your own sake, don’t push this.”

She drew back in fear. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m in a hurry. I meant what I said a minute ago. I’ll come back later and we can talk more about Savannah Sweete. But now is not the time.”

“Dave?”

He half turned as he clambered down the stairs. “What is it?”

“Let me come with you.”

“That’s not a good idea. For a lot of reasons.”

“I’ll just follow you in my car if you don’t let me come.”

He turned. “I’ll lose you in five minutes.”

“Probably. But if this is about Ruby, I have a right to be there. You know I do.”

He searched the street for a moment, then scrubbed his hand down his face. “Maybe you do. Maybe you have more right to this truth than anyone else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No more questions,” he said. “Let’s just get going.”

Claire stared out the window of Dave’s truck as they drove across the Huey Long and headed south on old Highway 90. Moonlight shimmered on the river as the willow trees that grew along the bank swayed in a mild breeze. Neon lights flashed above a honky-tonk set back from the road. The parking lot was full even on a Thursday night, though there wasn’t much traffic on the road.

“How much farther?” Claire finally asked.

“We’re almost at the turnoff. There’s a fishing cabin on a bayou just up the road. That’s where we’re going.”

“You still won’t tell me why we’re going there?”

“We’re meeting some people. You’ll find out the rest soon enough.” The lights of a passing car caught Dave in the face and he squinted. “I do need to tell you something before we get there, though. It’s something I should have told you a long time ago.”

Her heart quickened as she stared at his profile. “What is it?”

She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Two days after Ruby disappeared, I received a phone call from someone claiming to be her kidnapper.”

Claire felt the blood drain from her face. Another car passed them on the road before she was able to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t. That was one of the demands. I wasn’t to tell anyone. Not the police or the FBI. Not even you.”

She lifted a quivering hand to her mouth. “You were in contact with our daughter’s kidnapper and you didn’t tell me? How could you keep that from me?”

“I was trying to save Ruby’s life. Claire, please try to understand. I was terrified of what they might do to her. I couldn’t take a chance on telling you. You were on the verge of a breakdown. I was afraid you might let something slip to the police.”

“But the FBI told us that if we were contacted, the worst thing we could do was try to deal with the kidnapper on our own. You were a cop. You knew that.”

“Somehow none of that matters when your own kid’s involved.”

Claire closed her eyes. “What happened?”

“I agreed to their demands. They wanted something from me and I gave it to them.”

“What did they want?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“Do you remember the homicide case I was working at the time of the kidnapping? The victim’s name was Renee Savaria.”

“I remember. Her body was found in the river. She was just a kid, eighteen or nineteen, I think. You never liked to talk about your cases, but I knew that one kept you awake at night. I’d sometimes hear you pacing in the other room, and I would lie in bed thinking about her poor parents and what they were going through. If you were that deeply affected, I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for them, wondering how their child had suffered before she died.” Claire turned to stare out the window. “A few weeks later, Ruby disappeared.”

Dave was quiet for a long time. “I worked on that case for weeks without any real leads or suspects. And then I got my hands on Renee’s diary. The last entry was the location and date of a private party that she had been hired to work. According to a witness, Renee was killed at that party by a cop named Clive Nettle. The other cops there that night helped cover it up.”

Claire stared at him in shock. “Why would they do that?”

“Self-preservation. If word had gotten out about a cop party involving teenage prostitutes, a lot of careers would have been ruined. Not to mention the fear of prosecution once Renee turned up dead.”

“How did you find out?”

“A deathbed confession of sorts. Someone who was there that night recently told me what happened.”

“If you know all this, why hasn’t Nettle been arrested?”

“I’m working on that.” Dave slowed as they came to an intersection, then made a right turn onto another two-lane road. A convenience store with gas pumps sat on the left side, and to the right was nothing but rice fields.

“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with Ruby’s kidnapping,” Claire said.

“It doesn’t. But I was made to think that it did.”