With an effort, he relaxed his grip on the knife. Everything would be okay if he just kept his cool. After all, there was no way now that she could be traced back to him. Hed seen to that. And even if someone came sniffing around, he wouldnt draw attention. Hed learned at an early age the advantage of maintaining a low profile. Nothing in his appearance or lifestyle would ever arouse suspicion. He even wore contacts in addition to his glasses to subdue the color of his blue eyes so they wouldnt be remembered. He was the very epitome of decorum.
Everything was fine. The party would go off without a hitch. All he had to do was close his eyes and remember Maddys face.
If only it were that simple. But even with the old photograph hed squirreled away years ago, hed always had a difficult time reconstructing her winsome features.
Not that he wasnt talented enough. He was quite gifted, in fact, and hed learned from a master. But for the Maddy doll and for the others in his private collection, each and every detail had to be perfect. Such precision could be maddening without a live model, but he wouldnt give up. Couldnt give up. For Maddys sake, he had to keep trying. He owed her that much.
Closing his eyes, he waited for the shivering to pass, and then, wielding the sculptors knife as precisely as a scalpel, he set to work remolding the delicate features one sliver at a time until the lovely little face seemed to take on a life of its own.
Youre in there, he whispered. I can feel you.
He kept at it for a long time, refusing to stop even when his fingers became so cramped that every stroke of the blade was agony. Clay molds and sketches cluttered the studio, and as the evening hours turned into early morning, the disorder subtly wore on his nerves. Even the orchid hed placed on the corner of his worktable drooped from neglect, and that wasnt like him.
Ever since the doll had been stolen, his regimen had been severely disrupted. Normally he nurtured his orchids just as he pampered himself. He was accustomed to showering several times a day when his schedule permitted, and he kept his clothes pristine, his hair trimmed just so. He strove for nothing less than perfection in his personal appearance and in his surroundings. But until he had her backone way or anotherhe wouldnt be able to eat or sleep, much less indulge himself in his time-consuming routine.
He stepped away from his workbench and studied the dolls features yet again. Better. Almost therebut not quite
Something was missing.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung on the wall across the room, and froze, arrested as he always was by the sight of his own reflection. The man who stared back at him still seemed a stranger. Brownish-blond curls. Blue eyes rimmed with thick lashes. A rather weak jawline, but the mouth was good and the complexion was to die for. Not a single blemish or mole to mar his smooth skin. No morning shadow, either. He almost looked airbrushed.
But his new glasses would take some getting used to. They gave him a bookish air that wasnt to his liking, but for now the look suited his purposes.
Unable to resist, he walked over to the mirror for a closer scrutiny. Turning first one way then the other, he frowned. His nose was still not right, but the cartilage was too weak for another surgery. He supposed he would have to make do with what he had.
He removed his glasses because his eyes looked bluer without them, and when he smiled a certain way, his dimples flashed sweetly. Hed practiced that smile for years.
Yes, when he smiled in just that way, he could almost catch a glimpse of her.
Youre in there, he whispered to his reflection. I can feel you.
He lifted the blade to his face, the compulsion to peel away the flesh until he found what he needed almost irresistible. After all, he was no stranger to the knife. His body had been carved and mutilated so badly that his distaste for his own appearance sometimes forced him to use a sponge and gloves to clean himself in the shower. But no matter how often he washed, he couldnt scrub away the scars. He couldnt rinse away the memories.
Why did you have to die? he whispered.
Because you let me.
His voice became petulant. But I was just a child.
You should have found a way to stop him.
Ive stopped him now.
Too late.
Its not too late. Youre not dead. Youre justhiding.
Then come and find me.
He leaned closer, searching and searching his reflection until the ringing of his cell phone jarred him. He didnt want to answer it. He hated disturbances while he worked, but his concentration was already broken. Fetching the phone from his jacket pocket, he checked the caller ID and, recognizing the number of the nursing home, didnt bother to answer.
Tossing the phone aside, he returned to the unfinished doll and placed a gentle hand on her sculpted head. I have to go out for a while, but Ill be back soon, I promise.
Leaving the door to the studio open, he hurried up the steps to the kitchen to fix a tray. He toasted bread and poured a bowl of cereal, then, once he had the dishes and silverware arranged just so, carried everything back down the steps and placed the tray on his worktable while he unlocked and slid open a hidden compartment in one wall. He bent down to peer inside.
The lights were out. He couldnt see anything in the shadowy room, but he knew she was already awake because he could hear her whimpers. The sound irritated him. So did her persistence.
I want to go home.
She must have said it a hundred times already. They all did. And his answer was always the same.
You cant go home. Not until after the party.
Slipping the tray through the opening, he waited a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but when she didnt appear, he shut the compartment and locked it without a word, then hung the key on a peg near the door.
If hed learned anything in the past seven years it was that even the most stubborn girl would eventually eat when she got hungry.
Three
The dark clouds piling up over the Gulf of Mexico brought an early twilight to the city, but Claire Doucett barely noticed the sporadic raindrops that splashed against her cotton blouse as she hurried along the sidewalk. Her gaze was fastened on a group of teenage girls in front of her, and as they stopped to admire something in a shop window, she paused, too, her heart beating a painful staccato inside her chest. Their backs were to her, but when the one in the middle turned just sodear God, she looked like Ruby.
At least the way Claire imagined her daughter would look at fourteen. The way she appeared in the age-progressed photo created by a forensic artist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.
She would be tall like her dad, but with Claires thin stature and her grandmother Lucilles golden ringlets.
The girl in front of her shook her head and her blond curls shifted against her narrow back. She wore shorts and flip-flops, and her legs were long and tanned and gorgeous. Her laughter drifted back to Claire, sending a fine chill along her spine, and her heart started to beat even harder. There was something so sweet and innocent and familiar about that sound.
Claire closed her eyes and tried to conjure Rubys laugh. It was getting harder and harder to do. After seven years, the memories were sometimes elusive.
But, no, there it wasthe image of a two-year-old Ruby at the zoo, tugging on Claires hand as she laughed up at her. Bears, Mama!
Even as a toddler, Ruby had been such a happy child. Sweet and tenderhearted, and yet so willful and stubborn at times that Claires patience had been sorely tested.
That child would argue with a fence post, Claires mother used to say with an exaggerated sigh.
Yes, and I wonder who she gets that from, Claire would counter.
Secretly, Claire had been grateful that her daughter inherited more of Lucilles disposition than hers. Claire was too much like her moody father, although she hoped to God she never succumbed to the same demons that had driven him to suicide when she was just a baby.
Even in her deepest despair after Rubys kidnapping, Claire had never contemplated taking her own life, and for one good reasonshed never given up hope that her daughter would someday come home to her. The flame had grown dimmer with each passing year, but on days like today, the glimpse of a familiar face on a crowded street could rekindle her faith, and shed find herself indulging in the same old fantasy.
Ruby was still alive and shed been happy and healthy all these years. A childless couple had seen her riding her bike on the sidewalk that day and had been enchanted by her blond curls and sunny smile.
Theyd taken her home with them, loved her as if she was their very own, and in time, Ruby had responded to their kindness and affection. In time, shed adjusted to her new home, and for the past seven years, shed led a perfectly normal life. Maybe she no longer even remembered her real family. Her real mother.
Claire blinked back unexpected tears.
The fantasy was just that. Nothing more than a wishful daydream that had helped sustain her through some of her darkest days. And the girl on the street in front of her wasnt Ruby. The likelihood of her daughter still being alive was miniscule. To even consider for a moment that Ruby might have been in New Orleans all this time, that fate would have miraculously brought them together on this very street, was ludicrous.
And yet
Claire whispered her daughters name. The sound slipped through her lips as a plea.
And yet
Claire whispered her daughters name. The sound slipped through her lips as a plea.
The girl turned, as if responding to the soft entreaty, and Claire saw her clearly for the first time. The girls face split into a broad smile, and Claires breath caught. Everything around her seemed to still. The noise from the street faded, and the palm fronds and banana trees in a nearby courtyard stood motionless in the heat, as if nature itself was holding a breath.
And then Claire exhaled in a painful rush. It wasnt Ruby. Of course it wasnt Ruby. But for that one fleeting moment when their gazes touched, Claire had a glimpse of what it might be like to see her daughters face again after all these years.
The girls attention moved past her and she waved at someone behind Claire. Someone who had called out her name.