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Clara was going to protest that she didn’t have enough beds for everyone but stopped herself. Maybe it would be a good idea for her brothers to spend the night. Dylan was right—she and Naomi both needed sleep, and they’d both be more likely to get it if the boys stayed. “Naomi can sleep in my room with me, and you two can share the spare room. I'm going to go up; I'm wiped out.” She finished her tea.
“I’ll come up with you and take a shower.” Naomi stood and stretched.
“We’ll clean up down here, lock up and be up soon. Sweet dreams, girls,” Dylan said.
They split at the top of the stairs; Naomi headed for the bathroom while Clara headed for her room. A giant yawn was just splitting her face in two as she switched on the light. She saw it as soon as she opened her eyes. The yawn froze on her face. The rest of her froze, too.
She heard screaming.
It took her a moment to realize it was coming from her.
“What’s wrong?” Naomi appeared beside her, but Clara couldn’t answer.
“What is it?” Dylan and Davis came running into the room.
“On the bed,” Naomi answered, her gaze following Clara’s to the bed. “Get Clara out of here and call the cops.”
Davis snatched her up and carried her downstairs. Clara wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.
She knew what it was.
It was her doll.
The one the Doll Killers had intended to leave in her lap once they'd killed her and left her on a park bench.
And she knew who’d left it here.
The Doll Killers had been here in her home and left her doll on her bed.
* * * * *
2:06 A.M.
Jonathon had no idea if he’d even turned the car engine off as he ran up the path to Clara’s front door. All he could think about was Clara. She must be so scared.Hewas so scared. Leaving the doll on her bed had been a message. It was a threat. They were watching her, and he was afraid they were going to take things further.
He hammered on Clara’s door. The wait for it to be opened seemed like an eternity. Eventually, it was opened by Naomi, who looked even more tired in person than she’d sounded on the phone when she’d called to tell him about the doll.
“Hey, Jonathon; come on in.” She held the door open and then locked it behind him once he’d entered.
“Hi, Naomi,” he replied, his eyes roving the room looking for Clara. He found her curled up in the corner of one of the couches, wrapped up in a blanket. She was watching him and her lips curved in a small smile when she saw him looking at her.
As he walked toward her, he was aware of two men in their thirties watching his every move like hawks. Clara’s big brothers, he presumed. Naomi had told him on the phone that they were there. While the half-sisters looked like clones, Clara didn’t resemble her half-brothers at all. Trying to ignore the half-scrutinizing, half-threatening glares from the two men, he focused instead on Clara. “You doing okay?” he asked as he crouched beside the couch.
“Hanging in there,” she replied, stretching a hand out from under her little wooly cocoon to grasp his.
“So you're the cop,” one of her brothers noted. To say his voice was icy would be the understatement of the century.
“Dylan,” Clara warned.
“That’s okay,” Jonathon squeezed her hand and stood, holding out his hand to Dylan. Up close, he could see that Clara and her brothers did indeed share a common trait—they all had the same green eyes. “Jonathon Dawson.”
Dylan shook his hand in a grip that bordered on crushing. “Dylan Merritt.”
“Davis Merritt,” the other man said as he, too, shook Jonathon’s offered hand.
“Any ideas on how they got in to leave the doll?” he asked.
“Back door,” Davis replied. “We didn’t notice anything off when we came through the front door, but when we found the doll, little miss diligent over there,” he waved a hand at Naomi, “thought to check the back door. It was unlocked.”
