The Doll Collector

Chapter 6: Detective DeWitt

Marner placed another steaming cup of coffee in front of me, as I continued to hold my head and stare at the little evidence we had. It was weighing down on me that the help we had implored of the city had not come through. It was a long shot, obviously, to think anyone could identify a victim based on their clothing, but we had nothing else. Whoever this killer was, he was intelligent and thoroughly clean. Any possible trace of his DNA had been removed. Tips had been coming in all night, but they were all mostly red herrings. The only connection we could forge, was that all of these girls dressed the same way, and were roughly similar in height, weight, and possibly age. We'd also gotten the name of the person who owned the cabin, but they'd died three years ago, so that was a dead end. Not to mention that these cabins had been part of a summer camp that had closed twenty years prior, and the cabins had been there to rot, also a dead end.

I took a cautious sip of my coffee, burning my tongue anyway. Get it together, Adrian. An officer quietly opened our office door and poked his head through. He whispered that there was someone here to see us. Marner and I glanced at each other, then back at the officer. His eyes were dilated in excitement. I mean, who was ever that excited at a police station? We nodded for him to send the person in. I leaned back with my coffee cup resting against my chest. It would really suck if I sneezed and spilled this all over me.

A woman with red and swollen eyes stepped inside. Her cheeks were streaked where the tears had run through her makeup. She thanked the officer that escorted her in, and timidly walked up to my desk. Marner stood and offered her his seat. She took it, reaching into her bag for a wadded-up tissue. I pushed the tissue box over to her and asked her what brought her to the station. The woman took in a shaky breath and turned towards the board we'd set up. On it were the photos from the crime scenes. Her eyes trembled as they landed on the photos depicting the torn and bloodied dresses. Fresh tears rolled out of her eyes the moment she pointed to the baby blue lace dress with a suede flower pattern.

"That's my daughter's dress." She whispered.

"Are you sure?" Marner asked.

"Yes. That was her favorite dress."

"Ma'am, what makes you believe that that is her dress?"

"I haven't heard from my daughter in two weeks. I went down to the coffee shop that she sells newspapers in, and they haven't seen her in a two weeks either. She calls me every single Friday and she missed our phone calls twice. I've reported her missing, but nothing has been done. That is her blue lace dress, she wore it often. I even have photos of her in that dress."

From her purse she produced family photos of her daughter. Marner rounded the desk to stand beside me as I looked through them. She was right, it was the dress.

"When I saw the news report, I wasn't very worried. I was sure that plenty of girls had that same dress, but when she didn't call again, my fears consumed me. I went by her apartment to find that her mail has still not been picked up. My daughter is missing and that is her dress."

"Ma'am, what kind of girl is your daughter?" I asked.

My question seemed to rub her the wrong way. Her brows creased in anger and her eyes sharpened.

"If you are insinuating that my daughter brought this upon herself-"

"Ma'am, this is the first break we've had. If your daughter is one of the victims, we need to start building a profile on the type of woman this man is after. What kind of girl is your daughter?" I reiterated.

The woman took in another deep breath and introduced herself as Victoria Starks. Her daughter's name was Evelyn Starks and she was twenty-six years old. Evelyn was a quiet girl, who generally enjoyed being curled up with a book rather than meeting new friends. She became very reserved and introverted when her father died when she was seven years old. Since then she'd been very meek, her voice was small and somewhat muted. She worked at a coffee shop named Coffee Grounds, where she sold newspapers. It was a terrible job, but she used it to try and learn to speak up for herself. Often, she was ignored, since she didn't carry much of a presence. That led to frequent bouts of depression, which was why she didn't immediately worry when Evelyn missed their weekly phone call. She couldn't even pick up the phone when she was in this type of state and didn't like to see people. Evelyn was incredibly shy when it came to men but had recently tried to kick those nerves and begin taking chances.