The Dollmaker (24 page)

He moved on then, and Dave looked around to find that Titus had also disappeared. He was left standing alone with Angelette. She wore a short black skirt and turquoise blouse that clung to her curves, and her black hair was pinned up, highlighting her long, smooth neck. When she caught his eyes, she gave him a slow smile.

Dave wanted to look around and see where Claire was, but he thought that might be a little too obvious.

“What’s the matter, Dave? You look a little nervous.”

“It’s been a helluva night.”

“Hasn’t it, though? And I guess congratulations are in order. Took you seven years, but you finally nailed Renee Savaria’s killer.”

“Not without your help. If you hadn’t been able to persuade Elliot to come out here tonight, I might have had to take matters into my own hands.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You might have roughed him up a little more, but you wouldn’t have inflicted any serious damage.”

“What makes you think that?”

Her smile gently mocked him. “You may be fucked up in the head, but you’re still basically a good guy.”

“And just when did you come to that conclusion?”

“Oh, I always knew it. You just used to piss me off so bad I never wanted to admit it.” She twirled a strand of dark hair around her fingertip. No one but Angelette could make such a simple gesture seem so suggestive.

Dave cleared his throat. “Let me ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth. Whose idea was it to get me involved in all this? Yours or Elliot’s?”

Angelette leaned back against one of the cars and folded her arms. “What difference does it make? You got what you wanted. We all did. Why not just enjoy the moment?”

“I don’t like being played, that’s all.”

“Poor baby. Lee’s right, you know. Now that the herd at NOPD is about to be thinned, you could get your old job back if you wanted it. Be like old times.”

“I meant what I said, Angie. I burned my bridges in New Orleans. I’m not coming back.”

She looked on the verge of saying something, then changed her mind. “In that case, I guess all you’ve got left to do is figure out what to do about her.”

Dave turned his head in the direction of Angelette’s nod. He saw Claire then. She was standing in front of one of the squad cars, talking to Lee Elliot. In the harsh glare of the headlights, she looked pale and shocked, like the victim of a bad car crash. Dave’s chest tightened as he watched her, and for a moment, he had the strangest sensation of having just awakened from a dream.

“You’re never going to get over her, are you?” Angelette said softly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dave said. “What we had is in the past.”

“I guess we are, too.” She reached up and brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. “So long, Dave.”

He waited until she was gone, and then he turned, his gaze meeting Claire’s. She quickly glanced away.

Another moment went by and then he went over to her. Even when he came up beside her, she didn’t turn, wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I was just offering Claire a ride back to town,” Elliot said. “In fact, I insist. Charlotte would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t see her sister safely home.”

Dave stared down at Claire. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s fine. There’s no sense in you having to make a special trip back to New Orleans.”

“I don’t mind the drive.”

“There’s really no point.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want. I’ll call you tomorrow about Savannah Sweete.” He turned and started walking toward his truck.

A moment later, Claire caught up with him.

“Dave?”

He turned.

She put a hand to her mouth, as if she wasn’t quite certain what had possessed her to follow him. “I just have to know one thing.”

He braced himself. “What is it?”

The wind lifted her hair, and for a moment it was all Dave could do not to reach out and smooth the soft strands with his hand.

“Did you really know who Nettle was going to name when you brought me out here?”

“I suspected. I didn’t know.”

Her eyes searched his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I don’t know.” She looked off toward the cabin, as if still having a difficult time accepting what had happened. “Is it possible he made it all up? Maybe he just said what he knew you wanted to hear.”

“I don’t think so, Claire. Titus followed Nettle to a bar on Airline Drive yesterday. A little while later, Alex showed up, and they were together for a long time. It seemed as if they had a lot to discuss.”

She shuddered, and then without warning, she reached up, lightly touched the cut on his forehead. Her fingers were cool and soft, but the feel of them against his skin was like an electric jolt. Dave didn’t move, could barely even breathe. After a brief moment, she took her hand away.

“Did Nettle do that to you?”

“He had a little help from a creep named Bobby Ray Taubin.”

“What about Alex? Did he have anything to do with it?”

“I don’t know. A third man was there that night, but I never got a look at his face.”

Claire bit her lip. “Is that why you set all this up?”

“I set this up because I wanted justice served,” Dave said. “It’s not revenge, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that it was. It’s just…I hardly know what to think anymore. All those years that Alex and I were married…all the times we were together…I had no idea what he’d done. I thought he was a good man, someone I could love and respect.”

Dave looked down at his hand. His knuckles were swollen and one had split open against Nettle’s jaw. But the pain was nothing compared to the ache inside his chest. “None of this is on you, Claire. He was your husband. You wanted to believe the best about him. No one can fault you for that.”

She drew a long breath and released it. “Do you ever wonder why things happen the way they do?”

“All the time,” he said. “But it doesn’t do any good.”

“It’s like someone opened a door to our past and now all this pain just keeps rushing out.”

“I don’t think there’s any grand design here, Claire. If I hadn’t been drinking for all those years, this mess would have been settled a long time ago. The clues were there, I just wasn’t in any shape to know what they meant.”

She brushed a shaky hand across her face. “What’s going to happen to Alex now?”

“If all this sticks, he’s facing some pretty serious charges. Accessory to murder, conspiracy. I guess it all depends on how good his lawyer is. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. If he used Ruby’s kidnapping to cover up that girl’s murder, then I don’t care what happens to him.”

Dave could see her lips trembling, and when she bowed her head, moonlight glinted in her hair, turning the gold highlights to silver.

As he watched her struggle with her emotions, he felt something tear loose inside him. He had only just started learning to live with the past, and now it was the future that scared him. Because the road ahead had no glimmers of light to guide him, no fleeting images of happiness such as he saw when he looked behind him.

No matter what happened from this night forward, Claire would fade back into his past, a moment, a memory, an elusive ghost that would always be there to haunt him.

A
lex Girard swore at the persistent ring of the doorbell as he came out of the bedroom. Pulling on his shirt, he walked over and checked the peephole. Then he drew open the door in surprise.

“Claire? What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I need to talk to you.”

He glanced over his shoulder as he propped an arm against the door frame. “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. Whatever it is, can’t it wait until morning?”

“No, it can’t.” She brushed past him before he could stop her.

He closed the door and turned, noticing for the first time how agitated she seemed. She wore a denim skirt and white tank top, and her hair was damp, as if she’d just come from the shower.

Down the hallway, the bedroom door closed softly, but Alex didn’t think Claire heard it. She was too distracted.

“What’s wrong? You look upset.”

“I am upset. I found out something tonight that was very disturbing.”

Alex’s gaze shot to the bedroom door before he could stop himself. “And what might that be?”

Claire paused. “Does the name Renee Savaria mean anything to you?”

Outwardly, he managed to remain calm, but his lungs felt crushed all of a sudden, as if someone had placed a very heavy weight on his chest. He’d had an inkling something like this might be coming. Dave Creasy had been asking too many questions lately, and something was bound to surface. Whatever he’d dug up he’d evidently passed along to Claire. And now here she was.

He walked into the kitchen to fix himself a drink. “The name rings a faint bell,” he said over his shoulder. His voice sounded normal, but his hand trembled as he got out the glasses. “You want a drink?”

She shook her head.

He poured himself a whiskey, then came back into the living room and sat on the arm of the couch. “What’s this all about?”

“Renee Savaria was murdered by a cop seven years ago.”

He swirled the liquid in his glass as he thought about that for a minute. “I have a vague recollection of the case,” he said, “But I don’t remember anything about a cop. I think you got that part all wrong.”

“Don’t lie, Alex. You have more than a vague recollection. You were there the night she was murdered and you helped cover it up. You even used Ruby’s kidnapping to manipulate Dave into destroying incriminating evidence.” She pushed back her damp hair with a trembling hand. “How could you do such a thing? How could you marry me, knowing what you’d done? What kind of person are you?”

“Those are some ugly accusations.” His hand tightened around the glass as he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Who put you up to this?”

“Nobody. I came here on my own.”

“I don’t think so. This isn’t you talking. Somebody’s put a bug in your ear and I’ve a pretty good idea who it was.” He set the drink aside and slowly stood. “How long have you been seeing him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, Claire. Was it before we separated?” His mouth tightened. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out what you see in that guy. He’s had a serious sauce problem for years, and yet you still can’t get over him. I wish you would tell me what the fascination is because I would truly love to know.”

“Don’t change the subject. This is about you, Alex, and what you did seven years ago. I don’t know how you can stand there and look me in the eyes after what you’ve done.”

“So that’s it? You have me all tried and convicted on Dave Creasy’s word? You’re not even going to consider the possibility that he could be making the whole thing up just to make me look bad? It’s the kind of thing he’d do, Claire, and you know it.”

“You seem to be missing something here. Dave isn’t the one who told me about your involvement. I heard it from Clive Nettle.”

Alex felt his hands go cold, and for a moment, it was as if the earth had opened up beneath his feet. He sat down hard on the couch arm, the color draining from his face.

“I see that name does ring a bell,” she said softly.

Claire studied him, and what she saw in his eyes devastated her. She hadn’t realized until that moment how badly she’d wanted to believe it was all some terrible mistake. Their marriage was over, but she still cared about him, had once loved him. How could she not have known what he was capable of?

He said nothing for a long time, and then his gaze slowly lifted to hers. “Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove?”

“It’s all true, isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes. Now I understand why you didn’t want to believe me about the doll and the connection to Mignon Bujold’s murder. You were afraid if Ruby’s case was reopened, all this would come out.”

“Claire, I didn’t have anything to do with her kidnapping. You have to believe that.”

“You didn’t take her. I believe that. But you weren’t above using her disappearance to cover up a murder. You made those calls to Dave, knowing that he would do anything to bring his daughter home. You used his grief and desperation to protect a cold-blooded killer, and now you’re going to have to pay for what you did. You won’t be able to lie or charm your way out of this. It’s all coming out. Nettle has already talked to the D.A., so you may as well admit to me what you did.”

He glanced down at his drink, seemed to consider for a moment what he wanted to say to her before he spoke. “Even if I was there the night Renee Savaria was killed, that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with her death. I would never lay a hand on a woman, Claire, you know that. But that wouldn’t have mattered to the press. Every cop there would have been crucified. What good would have come from wasting all those careers?”

Claire felt something inside her go dark as she looked at him. It was like turning the light off in a roomful of memories. The man before her was a complete stranger.

“Nothing I did changed anything,” he said. “Ruby was already dead. You know the statistics as well as I do. Twenty-four to forty-eight hours, Claire. I did everything I could to find her, but she was already dead.”

“You don’t know that! She could have still been alive when you placed those phone calls. Dave might have been able to find her if you hadn’t made him think her kidnapping was connected to Renee Savaria’s murder.”

“You still don’t see it, do you?” Alex’s smile was sad. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Dave. It’s always been about him.”

Claire shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“You’re still trying to make him the good guy so it justifies your feelings for him. He is what he is, Claire, and one of these days you’re finally going to have to accept that Dave Creasy is your cross to bear. Just like Renee Savaria is mine.”

Claire didn’t slam the door behind her, but somehow the soft click of the latch seemed even more final to Alex. She hadn’t been angry when she left. There had been no emotion in her exit at all, just that one brief click and it was over. Done. Claire Doucett was no longer a part of his life.

He told himself to get up, finish dressing and plan a course of action. If Nettle had already talked to the D.A., then Alex probably had a day or two at the most to find a good attorney to get him out of this mess.

Instead, he remained on the arm of the couch, ice melting in his drink, as he stared out the window.

He sensed a presence in the hallway, and he turned to find Charlotte leaning against the door, arms folded, as she watched him. She was fully dressed, looking exactly the way she had when she’d walked through his door a few hours ago. Except for her hair. It was still mussed from the pillow.

“Is it true?”

He mustered up a vague denial as he drained his glass. “Don’t believe everything you hear. You know how Claire is. She has a vivid imagination.”

“I didn’t hear you deny her allegations.”

“You didn’t hear me admit to anything, either, did you?”

“I heard enough to draw some pretty damning conclusions.”

“Conclusions don’t mean much in court. And somehow I don’t think you want to get on that witness stand and subject yourself to a hostile cross-examination. Could get pretty nasty with Claire in the courtroom.”

“I doubt it will come to that.” Charlotte gave him a faint smile as she held up her cell phone. “I just spoke to Lee Elliot. He corroborated everything Claire said here tonight. You’d better find yourself a damn good lawyer, Alex, because you are in some serious trouble.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge if I were you. Every story has two sides.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What I told Claire was right, you know. Nothing I did changed anything.”

Now it was Charlotte who gave him a pitying smile. “You’re wrong about that. It changed you, Alex. It turned you into someone that Claire could never fall in love with. And somehow I think that might be the most fitting punishment of all for you.”

She left the apartment as silently as her sister had, and still Alex didn’t move. Through a break in the buildings outside his window, he could see the shimmer of lights on a barge on the river, and he listened for the foghorns that he could sometimes hear at night before he drifted off. The plaintive sound always left him lonely and longing for something that seemed just out of his reach. He’d always thought it was Claire he missed, but now he knew that what he’d really been searching for all these years was his soul.

When had he become one of the bad guys? Alex wondered. The transformation had been so subtle, he hadn’t seen it coming. One bribe, one payoff, the first time he’d agreed to look the other way. When had his ambition convinced him that in the scheme of things, none of that really mattered? The bigger picture was all that counted.

And then, as the years went by, it became about survival—covering his ass. One thing led to another until he hadn’t worried so much about right and wrong anymore, and somewhere along the way, he’d started to think of himself as immune, untouchable.

And now the sins of his past were all catching up with him.

The barge disappeared and the sounds of traffic outside his window faded. He got up to turn off the light, then went back to his place on the couch, a strange lightness in his limbs. The apartment was empty and silent, and for the first time in years, Alex Girard sat alone in the dark with his conscience.

Dave had been home for a long time, but he hadn’t felt like going up to bed yet. When he first got in, he’d fixed himself something to eat and turned on the television, watched a movie straight through and then the news. When he started nodding off, he carried his plate into the kitchen, rinsed it off in the sink, then went upstairs to shower.

Crawling into bed, he stretched out his legs, trying to relax, but it took a long time for the tension to drain out of him. He’d just managed to drift off when the sound of a car in his drive startled him awake. He got up and went over to the window to see who it was.

He recognized the car, and he watched as the door opened and Claire got out. She looked up at the house, but Dave didn’t think she could see him in the window. He hadn’t turned on the light. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he went downstairs to let her in.

She was still coming across the yard when he stepped out on the porch. She heard the door and faltered. “Dave?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Moonlight flooded the yard and a mild breeze drifted through the trees. He could see the gleam of her hair, hear the swish of her skirt as she started toward the porch.

He reached over and unlatched the screen, realizing suddenly that he was nervous. “Are you okay?”

“I guess so.” She climbed the steps and Dave held the door open for her, but she hesitated. “I got you out of bed, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t asleep. What brings you out here at this hour?”

She smiled apologetically as she stepped up on the porch. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”

It was a warm night, but Dave thought he could see her shiver. “You want to come inside?”

“Could we just sit out here for a while?”

“Sure.”

But she didn’t sit. Instead she walked to the end of the porch and stared out at the bayou. Dave was behind her, but he made sure he didn’t cramp her space as he watched her in the darkness. She’d changed clothes since she left the cabin earlier, and he thought he could smell her shampoo in the breeze. It was sweet, like honeysuckle.

“I went to see Alex tonight.” She turned, and their eyes met briefly before she glanced away.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She lifted a hand to the back of her neck. “No. That’s not why I came all the way out here. I want you to tell me about Savannah Sweete.”

“I would have called you in the morning.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to wait. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to find that doll.”

“I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not much. Like I said earlier, she lives about thirty miles south of Houma, near Tiber. I drove by her place yesterday, but I couldn’t get in to see her. The gate across the property was locked, so I went back to town and asked around about her. Your information seems to be pretty accurate. She’s an artist who specializes in portrait dolls, and they can run as high as two or three thousand dollars.”

“Is that all the information you could get?”

“Pretty much. You were right about the accident, too. She’s confined to a wheelchair and hardly ever leaves her house. The people I talked to seemed pretty protective of her, but when I explained the situation to the parish sheriff, he said he’d have a word with her nephew, see about getting us in to meet her. He even offered to drive out there with us if we need him to.”

Clare glanced up at him. “We?”

“I’d like to be there when you talk to her. If that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t know, Dave. I’m not so sure that’s a good idea anymore.”

“Isn’t that why you came to me in the first place? You wanted me to help you find the doll. What’s changed?”

She paused, glanced out at the darkness, and said softly, “We’ve changed.”

He looked at her standing there, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.