was no going back, ever.
There was no changing the past or the person he had become because of it.
A little while later, he climbed out of the shower, dressed quickly and ran a comb through his wet hair before going back downstairs. He took a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator, filled two glasses with ice and carried a tray out to the front porch, where he set it on a small table between the two rockers.
“How about some tea? I don’t know about you, but I’m parched.” He handed one to Claire.
She thanked him and took a sip. “It’s good,” she said in surprise. “Sweet, but still with a bite. It reminds me of Mama’s tea.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Dave said. “How is Lucille?”
“She’s fine. But I expect you already know that, don’t you?” When he didn’t say anything, Claire smiled. “I know you keep in touch with her. She let it slip once.”
Dave shrugged. “She was always good to me. I never saw any reason to cut her out of my life just because you and I split up.”
“She thought the world of you.” Claire paused, glancing out the screen at the rose bush that grew at the corner of the porch. Dave saw the pain that flickered in her eyes before she could hide it.
“Why are you here, Claire?”
She set down the glass and pressed her hands against the sides of her skirt. “You said the other night that you’d moved your office down here. You’re doing P.I. work again.”
“That’s right.”
“I’d like to hire you. I need you to find something for me.” Her face was calm, but her voice shook a little as her gaze met his in the fading light.
“You want me to find something for you,” Dave said, his voice flat, hollow. “Does this have something to do with the divorce?”
“Did Mama tell you about that?” She sounded surprised.
“Lucille never mentioned it. I heard it from someone else. Is it true?”
“Yes. Alex and I are divorcing, but that’s not why I’m here. And I should probably tell you up front that I don’t have much money. I’m hoping when you hear me out, that won’t be a factor.”
Dave sat down in one of the rockers and took a drink of his tea. “You have my attention. What is it you want me to find?”
The twilight softened her features. She looked pale and serene standing by the screen, but when she spoke, her voice was edged with anxiety. “I want you to find a doll for me.”
“A doll.” He almost laughed, but he saw that her expression was serious when she came over and sat down beside him. “What happened? Did Lucille get robbed or something?”
“This isn’t about Mama, either.” Claire’s eyes searched his face. “I think the doll I’m looking for was sculpted by a local artist named Savannah Sweete. She lives somewhere in Terrebonne Parish. Her specialty is portrait dolls.”
“If she lives that close, she shouldn’t be too hard to locate. Did you try looking her up in the phone book or on the Internet?”
“She has an unlisted number and I couldn’t find an official Web site. She’s been wheelchair bound since an accident a few years ago, and I’ve heard that she’s a recluse. Even if we find her, it may not be that easy to get in to see her.”
Dave scratched his sunburned neck. “You want me to drive over to Terrebonne Parish and ask around about her?”
“Yes…but there’s more to it. I told you that she makes portrait dolls. The doll I want you to find looks exactly like Ruby.”
Dave didn’t say anything for a moment. His first thought was that it was some sort of bizarre joke, but Claire, of all people, would never be that cruel. And besides, he had only to see the shimmer in her eyes to know that she was emotional about this.
“Are you telling me that you had someone, this Savannah Sweete person, make a doll that looks like Ruby?”
“No. Not me. But someone did. I saw her in a window in the Quarter when I was shopping with Charlotte. The eyes, the mouth…everything about her was exactly like Ruby. Right down to the dress she had on when she went missing.” Claire paused, put a hand to her mouth as if holding back her emotions. When she lifted her gaze, he saw that the shimmer was gone, replaced by something that might have been fear.
A chill crawled up Dave’s spine. What the hell was she talking about? A doll that looked like Ruby? It made no sense.
“Claire, this all sounds pretty damn weird.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Are you sure she looked that much like Ruby?”
“She was the spitting image.”
“Did you go into the shop and ask about her?”
“I wanted to. But I couldn’t that day. I was involved in a traffic accident. You probably already know about that, too, don’t you?”
“Lucille may have mentioned it.”
“But she didn’t say anything about the doll?”
“Not a word. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“She probably didn’t want to say anything because she doesn’t believe me. No one does. But I’m telling you the truth. I saw the doll clearly that day and it looked so much like Ruby, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. But by the time I was able to get back to the shop the next day, the doll was gone.”
“Someone bought her?”
“I don’t know. The shop was closed. Someone next door told me that the owner was out of town and wouldn’t be back until today. So I went back to the shop this morning and I found her. The owner, I mean. She was dead.”
That same chill was crawling up and down Dave’s spine again. “How did she die?”
Claire drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Someone stuffed her body in a refrigerator.”
“Good God…”
“I know. I can’t begin to imagine who would do such a thing.”
“What did the police say? Do they have a suspect or a motive?”
“Not that they’ve shared with me. But I think the motive was the doll. She’s the only thing missing from the shop.”
“How do you know that?”
“The cash register and the safe hadn’t been tampered with, and there was no sign of a forced entry. And the owner was still wearing an expensive ring on her finger when I found her, so I don’t think it was a random robbery. I think she was killed because of that doll.”
“That’s a pretty big conclusion to jump to, from what you’ve told me.”
“No, it’s not,” Claire said desperately. “It’s the only conclusion that makes any sense. The owner’s daughter told me that a strange man had brought the doll into the shop and offered her for sale. He said a child had died and he needed to get rid of the doll because it was too painful a reminder.” Her lips trembled, but this time she didn’t try to quell the emotion. “You see what this means, don’t you? The doll and Ruby’s kidnapping have to be connected.”
“Claire, you can’t know that for sure. The doll could have been made before Ruby went missing.”
“By whom?”
“Maybe Lucille had one made and forgot about it.”
“She would have remembered something like that. Besides, it’s expensive to commission a portrait doll, especially from an artist as talented as Savannah Sweete. Mama didn’t have that kind of money. Dave, whoever made that doll had to have seen Ruby in person at some point.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she has a tiny birthmark painted on her left arm.”
