“What do you know about her?” He studied the paperweight.
“Clearly not much. I didn’t know she’d gotten married. We both went our separate ways after my accident. I had to take the rest of the semester off, and by spring I really started to focus on the sciences. I also moved back in with my aunt to save money because the accident ate into most of my savings for college. Diane stayed in the art department, and I think she spent her sophomore year in Paris.”
“She married a guy named Nathan Richardson five years ago and they divorced a year later. I’m tracking her ex-husband now, and I’ll be talking to him soon enough. I remember Kara ran with a few other girls that first few months in college. One was you. Was Diane one of the others?”
“Yes.”
“I want to know more about her relationship with Kara.” A razor-sharp edge had crept into his voice.
“Diane was from town, just like Kara and me. Kara and Diane were school friends. They were both on the cheer squad in high school. They had a lot in common, and I know even by mid-October they were already talking about being roommates during their sophomore year. Both of them were art majors. They went to the frat parties together. They even went out with the same guy.”
“What guy?”
“Stanford Madison.”
“Where can I find him?”
“I don’t know, but I have a phone number for him. You can try that.”
“You’ve kept in touch with him?”
“He came to visit me in the hospital after my accident. Helped me with my rehab. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years. I’m still digging out eight months’ worth of e-mails, but I did notice he e-mailed me about an upcoming art show here in Richmond. I think he’s also teaching at the university.”
“He’s in Richmond now?”
“Yeah.”
“Send me his number.”
“Sure.” She pulled her phone from her lab coat pocket and forwarded the contact.
His gaze darkened. “Dig into your memory and find every connection you can between Diane and Kara and Madison.”
“I don’t understand. Kara’s death was different than Diane’s. She didn’t have tattoos or any kind of doll getup.”
“She died of an overdose, which Dr. Kincaid believes is Diane’s cause of death. She was missing for five days before she was found. And witness statements put her at a Halloween party with friends dressed as dolls. I’m assuming one of those ‘dolls’ was Diane.”
“Yes. Diane, Elena, and I were wearing the doll costumes,” Tessa said, more to herself. “All four of us had gone to a Halloween party, and I thought it would be fun if we dressed alike.”
“Kara went for that? She hated dolls.”
“She didn’t like the idea at all,” she said. “Diane tried to talk her into it, but she wore a red dress. She thought we looked ridiculous. She kept making cracks about how she was trying to look like a grown-up and not a kid.”
He shook his head. “Jesus,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear. “Roger might have been right all these years.”
Tears tightened her throat. It pained her to see him twisted in knots. “Dakota, you’re suggesting the same person is responsible for two deaths separated by a dozen years.”
“Killers evolve, Tessa. They learn and they practice, and even though they go dark for years, they don’t stop thinking about the killing.”
She wasn’t buying his theory. “Facial tattooing is a major evolution.”
“The killer could have taken Kara on impulse. She might have been his first kill. Fast-forward a dozen years, and this same killer is now thinking and planning his next kill. He now isn’t satisfied with a doll costume but wants to completely change her. Whoever killed Diane put a lot of thought into it.”
“Why her? It can’t be as simple as a Halloween party that happened twelve years ago.”
“I don’t know. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he targeted her because he knew her from college. Or because she was Kara’s friend. I don’t know the connection yet, but it’s there. It’s one of the first questions I’ll be asking Madison.”
“God, I can’t believe this. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
He rubbed the back of his head with a grimace. “Believe it. There’s one thing I know. Coincidences are rare things.”
She recognized the look in his eyes. He was a dog with a bone. And he wouldn’t rest until he had answers. How many times had they argued over his work, his distance, or his inability to let go? A year ago, she’d have tried to talk him out of this. Now she took solace in the fact that they were working together. “I hope you’re wrong, but I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
He smacked the paperweight on her desk, but when he looked into her worried eyes, he inhaled. “I know you think I’m going to obsess about this case like I have the others I’ve worked. And you know what? I am.” He shoved out a ragged sigh. “I know I wasn’t easy to live with. I know I get lost in my work. But it’s going to take someone as driven as me to catch Kara and Diane’s killer.”
She blinked back tears. “I want to help, but I don’t know what to do.”
“All I need from you are any pictures taken when you four girls were together. I want you to make lists of all the people you girls knew. Please think back. Was there anyone lurking around, watching you?”
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Call me when you have information. This killer has murdered one woman you know, maybe two. Until I know what his agenda is, keep your eyes open and be careful.”
“Sure.”
The Dollmaker laid Harmony carefully on the chair he’d modified especially for his work. Though she could sit up, there were armrests with straps as well as lower straps for her legs. She would be sedated for the duration of her transformation, but he would bind her just as he did Destiny because he couldn’t run the risk of her moving while he was doing some of his most delicate work.
He straightened her head in the headrest and took a moment to trace his finger across the fine bone structure of her face. High cheekbones. Pale skin. Arched eyebrows. She was pretty now and soon would be perfect.
Turning to his computer, he switched on soothing music and hummed as he strapped her arms to the chair and then her legs. He plugged in the hot wax machine, and as the hard material melted, he moved to his workbench and reached for a comb and a pair of sharp scissors.