The Dollmaker

Twenty-Three

By Thursday, Claire’s hand was so much better that she decided to stay on after the gallery closed, and make up for lost time in the studio. The other glassblowers left one by one, until by nine she had the place to herself. Normally, she loved working alone, but tonight she found herself jumping at every little sound. Which was to be expected, she supposed, after everything that had happened in the past week.

Perspiration gathered at the back of her neck and along her spine as she rolled the pliable glass across the steel marver to smooth and shape the surface. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and the heat in the studio was quickly sapping her energy. She’d gone to bed early, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mignon Bujold’s pale face staring up at her. And when Claire finally dozed off, she dreamed of being trapped in a cold, dark place, unable to move, unable to scream for help. She’d awakened struggling for breath, her heart pounding in terror until she realized it was only a nightmare. But she hadn’t been able to fall back asleep for hours.

Luckily, the gallery had been so busy all day that she hadn’t had time to dwell on the gruesome aspects of the shopkeeper’s death. But now, in the quiet of the studio, the horror came rushing back, and with it, Claire’s mounting frustration. It was obvious to her that a connection existed between the woman’s murder and the doll, but why would no one believe her? Her desperation had finally driven her to Dave, and when he’d refused to help her, Claire’s disappointment had been crushing, even though she’d tried to tell herself the outcome was to be expected. When had she ever been able to count on Dave Creasy for anything?

But a part of her had wanted to believe that he’d changed, and that when he heard about the doll, he’d be the one person who would believe her, who would be willing to move heaven and earth to help her.

Instead, he’d turned everything back to him and his needs, and Claire didn’t know why that had surprised her. She’d once loved him deeply, but when she looked back now, she realized that their relationship had always been about him. The dark moods, the drinking, even his betrayal. He’d slept with another woman not because he loved her, but because Angelette Lapierre had offered something he wanted and needed that Claire couldn’t give him. And because he was Dave, he’d taken it.

Sometimes Claire still wondered if the devastating hurt and humiliation of his betrayal, perhaps even more than her grief over Ruby’s disappearance, had been the catalyst that pushed her into Alex’s arms. And then once there, she hadn’t wanted to admit that she’d made a terrible mistake.

Now her second marriage had dissolved, too. Lucille thought it was because Claire had never gotten over Dave, but if seeing him again had proved anything to her, it was that her decision to walk out on him seven years ago had probably been the smartest thing she’d ever done. On most days, it was all she could do to battle her own demons, much less his.

As Claire continued to mold the glass, she tried to clear her mind, but tonight work wasn’t as therapeutic as she had hoped it would be. She couldn’t seem to concentrate, and found herself going through the steps automatically, reheating the glass, attaching the punty rod to the bottom, removing the blowpipe from the lip. Someone had borrowed her tools earlier and left them on her workbench. As she reached for the jacks, her hand stilled and a shiver crept over her. For a moment, she could have sworn someone was watching her.

She glanced at the row of windows, then turned to scan the space behind her. The studio was well-lit and she could see the whole room from where she was sitting. The door to the gallery was closed and locked, as was the rear entrance. Claire had worked alone in the studio dozens of times, and the solitude had never spooked her before. She didn’t know what had triggered her apprehension now, but suddenly she had the same premonition she’d experienced standing outside the back door of the collectibles shop. And as she turned, her gaze moving slowly over every inch of the studio, her heart began to hammer against her rib cage.

This is crazy.

She’d been in the studio since the gallery closed at five, and she’d made sure to lock both outside doors when everyone else left. No one had come in or out since she’d been at her workbench, so there was nothing to worry about.

But for some reason, Claire’s mind flashed to the woman who had taken the tour of the studio on Saturday. Even though she’d stayed at the back of the crowd, Claire had noticed her because of her unusual appearance. She hadn’t thought much about her since that day, but now Claire found herself remembering the woman’s strange behavior.

But there was no way that woman—or anyone else—could get inside the studio without Claire knowing it. She was letting her imagination get the better of her. Taking a deep breath, she went back to work.

When she finally had the piece inside the annealer oven, where the glass would gradually cool until morning, she removed her Kevlar gloves and started to clean up around her workbench. Then she went to get her purse and keys, and recheck the gallery door before letting herself out the back way.

As soon as she opened the door, she saw the white box. It was tied with a pink ribbon and placed on the pavement where she wouldn’t miss it when she left.

Claire glanced up and scanned the parking area.

A security light had recently been installed at the back of the warehouse for nights when one of the glassblowers stayed late and had to leave the building alone. Her car was the only one left. No one else was around. No one that she could see, anyway.

She picked up the box and stepped back into the studio, closing and locking the door and turning the lights back on.

Adrenaline was suddenly pumping through her veins and her hands were trembling. She tried to calm her racing pulse, tried to tell herself there was no reason to panic. She didn’t even know if the box had been left for her. There was no name on the package. Maybe she should just leave it until morning and see if it belonged to one of the other glassblowers.

But even as the notion flitted through her head, she was already removing the lid, her hands fumbling with the layers of tissue paper until the contents were revealed.

It was the picture of Ruby that had been taken from Claire’s home a few nights ago. The original wooden frame had been replaced by one cut from cardboard and decorated with spray paint and glitter. The kind of frame a child might make in school for a Mother’s Day gift or Christmas present.

Claire’s stomach churned with dread as she turned the picture over and read the inscription on the back. Icy fingers stroked up and down her spine.

The childish scrawl read simply: “To Mama.”

Claire was still shaking when she pulled into her driveway a few minutes later. Dave’s truck was parked at the curb, and she had no idea why he was there. She supposed she should be grateful that she wouldn’t have to enter her dark house alone, but mostly what she felt was isolated and helpless. No one had believed her about the doll. Why would the photograph be any different?

Shivering, she got out of her car and walked across the yard to the porch. At some point during the evening, someone had stood outside the door of the studio while she worked, had perhaps even watched her through a window. Someone had left the picture for her to find, but who would do such a thing? And, for God’s sake, why?

She’d run out of the studio in a panic after opening the box, barely taking the time to lock the door before bolting across the parking lot to her car. Claire could see herself in her mind’s eye, and her overwrought reaction shamed her a little. And then she grew angry.

Someone had deliberately used a photograph of her daughter to frighten her. Was it not enough that Ruby had been taken from her? Did her memories have to be tainted now, as well?

As Claire climbed the porch steps, she could see Dave sitting in one of the rockers, but neither of them spoke until she reached the top. He rose then, his face still in shadows.

“Hello, Claire.”

“Hello.” Her voice sounded strained and shaky, and she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea of why she was upset. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

She clutched her purse close to her side as their eyes met in the darkness. It was all she could do not to blurt out her discovery, but she’d swallowed her pride and gone to him once for help. He’d turned her away, and she had no reason to believe that she could count on him now. She couldn’t count on anyone. Not Dave, not Alex, not her family. Claire had been on her own ever since she’d first seen the doll in Mignon Bujold’s window, and the only thing she had any control over was her fear. She couldn’t let it overwhelm her. If she wanted to find out the truth, she had to remain strong.

“Are you okay?” Dave asked with a frown.

“I guess I’m just surprised to see you.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“Yes, of course.” She drew a long breath. “What do you want?”

He took a step toward her, his eyes catching the moonlight. “I need to talk to you.”

“Why? I think you pretty much told me everything I needed to know on Tuesday, and I’m tired tonight. I want to get inside.”

“I owe you an apology.”

Claire had moved to the front door, keys in hand, but now she stood motionless. “You didn’t need to come all the way to New Orleans for that. We both said things we shouldn’t have.”

“I’m not talking about our conversation the other day, although you’re right. I do regret the way things ended.” He hesitated. “I came to tell you that I’m sorry for what I did seven years ago. I’m sorry about everything.”

Claire felt something deep inside give way, but she clung to the last vestiges of her strength. It had been a long day. She was tired, she was scared and she was in no frame of mind to have an emotional conversation with her ex-husband. “So what is this? Step five or nine? I forget.”

She saw him flinch. “I’m just trying to do what’s right these days. I know an apology doesn’t make up for what I did, but I needed to say it anyway.”

She turned, a taste like metal in her mouth as her anger flared. “And it’s always about what you need, isn’t it? Did it ever once occur to you that maybe I don’t want to hear your apology? Maybe what I need is just to leave things alone. Forget it ever happened.”

“But have you forgotten? I know I haven’t. Even after all this time, it kills me that I cheated on you. And I still don’t even know why I did it.”

“You know, you’re right, Dave. I did need to hear that. I feel so much better now.”

“Claire…”

She sighed, letting the anger slip out of her. “You may find this hard to believe, but I have more on my mind these days than your betrayal. Go home, Dave. Go home and leave me alone, because nothing you say can change what happened.”

“Just let me come in for a minute. Please, Claire.” He held his hands out in supplication. “I don’t expect one apology to change how you feel about me, but at least hear me out. If you want me to help you find that doll, we need to clear the air about some things. It’s important.”

Her gaze lifted. “You’ve changed your mind about helping me?”

“Let’s go inside and we’ll talk about it.”

His face was still in shadows. Claire couldn’t see his expression, but something in his voice made her shiver. “All I want to know is if you believe me.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I believe you saw a doll that looks like Ruby. What it means, I have no idea. But I do believe you. Can I come inside so that we can talk?”

She gave a reluctant nod even as she tried to quell the rush of relief inside her. She opened the door and reached inside to flip the light switch. But when she glanced back, he was still standing in the same spot, staring out at the street.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to come in.”

“I do. But something just struck me.”

“What?”

“I was just standing here thinking about the way I used to drive by all the time, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”

Claire’s chest tightened. “You mean when my grandmother lived here?”

He hesitated. “Yeah.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Kind of seemed like yesterday until I drove through the old neighborhood on my way over here. That little burger joint where you used to work on weekends is a quick mart now.”

“I know. It has been for years.”

“I guess I hadn’t noticed.” He turned with a shrug. “Anyway, it made me think of the first time I ever stopped in there. Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember. You were in one of your moods. You looked as if you were ready to kill somebody when you came in the door.”

“And then there you were, smiling at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’d known you most of my life, but something just clicked in my head that day. It was like I was seeing you for the first time. It was only a moment, over in a heartbeat. But that’s when I knew.”

A car pulled into the drive next door, the headlights reflecting in Dave’s eyes as he stared down at Claire. She tried to look away, but couldn’t.

“Ever since you left my place the other day, I’ve been trying to think of the exact instant when things went so wrong for us. If there was a moment when it started, there had to be a moment when it ended. But I didn’t see it. It passed by and I didn’t even notice.”

“Because you weren’t looking,” Claire said softly. She hugged her arms around her middle. “It wasn’t just a moment, it was a lot of them. It was your job and the drinking. The dark moods. There was a part of your life, a part of yourself, that you couldn’t or wouldn’t share with me. I wanted to understand, but you shut me out, and sometimes you made me feel as if I were trespassing on something private. Something that wasn’t any of my business. There were times, especially toward the end, when I felt like an outsider in my own marriage.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt that way?”

“I did tell you. You just weren’t listening. And anyway, it really doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does to me.”

Claire swallowed. “That’s because you’re still living in the past. But the rest of us have moved on.” She walked quickly into the house.

A moment later, she heard the door close behind him as he followed her inside. “You’ve moved on, huh. Is that why you want me to help you find a doll that looks like Ruby?”

“That’s different. The doll exists, whether you believe me or not. It’s not a smokescreen or my imagination or anything else. The doll is real and so is this.” She removed the photograph from her purse and handed it to him.

He glanced up with a puzzled frown.

“I found it tonight as I was leaving work. Someone put it in a box and left it outside the door.” Claire nodded toward the picture. “Turn it over and read the back.”

He flipped it over, and as he read the inscription aloud, Claire shuddered. “To Mama.”

“Ruby didn’t write that,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same photograph that was stolen from here a few nights ago, and it didn’t have anything written on the back then.”

“Someone broke in here?”

“I think Mama left a window open. It was one night last week when we had one of those sudden thunderstorms. I was already in bed and I heard glass breaking. When I came downstairs, I saw that a vase had fallen in the sunroom and shattered on the floor. The window was open. I assumed the curtain had swept it off the table. Then I realized a picture of Ruby was missing from the same table.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“You didn’t believe me about the doll….” She shrugged and trailed off.

“Did you tell anyone?”

“I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t want to worry Mama, and besides, I wasn’t even sure that the picture was really missing then. I thought I might have forgotten that I’d put it away. And now it turns up outside the studio, on a night when I’m working alone.”

“Did you see or hear anything unusual tonight? Have you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around the studio or gallery in the past few days?”

“A woman came in last Saturday. I thought she was part of a group that toured the studio that afternoon, but she didn’t leave with everyone else. She stood in front of a display case for a long time, staring at one of my pieces. Maybe she was just trying to make up her mind, because she did eventually buy it. But there was something about her that made me uneasy. I don’t even know how to explain it. She had on thick makeup that made her look…I don’t know…unnatural somehow. Now that I think back about it, I can’t help wondering if she was deliberately trying to conceal her real identity. But I guess that sounds a little paranoid. Or maybe just plain crazy.”

“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.”

“How?”

“The ransom demand was that I destroy the last page of Renee Savaria’s diary.”

The truck tires thudded over the metal grid of a bridge, and Claire waited until they were across before she spoke. “Did you do it?”

His face looked pale in the dash lights. “Yeah, I did it.”

“You destroyed evidence that could have proved that girl was killed by a cop. Because of what you did, Nettle got away with murder.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dave’s voice was hard and cold and empty.

“And you did it for Ruby.” Claire’s lip started to tremble and she looked away from him.

“I would have done anything to bring her back, Claire. You have to know that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t. I was too afraid to tell anybody, and I wanted to spare you as much as I could. After it was over, I was too ashamed.”

“Ashamed of trying to save your daughter?”

“Ashamed of letting myself be duped. Ashamed of going against everything I believed in as a cop.”

“Is that why you resigned?”

“Partly, I guess. And partly because I just didn’t give a shit about anything. After Ruby disappeared, nothing made sense anymore. Not even you and me.”