Page 106 of Pretty Broken Dolls
“What did they look like?”
“I couldn’t see a face. They were wearing all black, I think, with the hood pulled up around their head. They weren’t too tall. Slight build.”
“Do you remember what time it was?”
“It was dusk and almost dark.”
“Did you notice a car?”
“No. The street had been quiet without traffic.”
“Do you remember anything about the person?”
She flopped her head back on the pillow in frustration. “I was having a difficult time that particular day,” she said. “But I remember thinking that they moved in a certain way.”
“How is that?”
“You know, like they had some type of formal training. The way they moved.”
“Formal training? Like law enforcement?”
“Yeah, you know. I’ve been around cops and correction officers my entire life. And many of them move with purpose, careful, stealthy…it’s the way they hold their upper body and place their feet…oh, I don’t know…”
“It’s okay,” said Katie. She knew that Sadie was trying to be helpful but was confused about whether what she saw was real or not. “Just tell me what you think you saw.”
“The person was lean, moved along the side of the house like they were hunting someone, getting ready to capture their prey.”
Preywas an unusual description to use, thought Katie. “What else?”
“I…I don’t know…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’ve given me some new information,” she said, trying to make her feel better.
Sadie closed her eyes. Her breathing became low and rhythmic as she fell into a deep sleep.
Katie waited a moment, rehashing what she had told her. She believed that Sadie believed she was telling the truth about what she had seen—whether it was real or not. She got up and took one last look at Sadie peacefully sleeping.
“Sleep well, Sadie,” she whispered.
Chapter Forty-One
Friday 1200 hours
Katie stirred her fruit smoothie with a straw as she thought about Sadie’s information. She picked at her salad. Not saying much, her mind rattled back through Jeanine Trenton’s and Darla Winchell’s crime scenes. The injuries, the heavy ghoulish makeup, the settings. What was she missing?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a call from John.
“Scott,” she said.
“I just wanted to give you a preliminary report on Darla Winchell’s apartment.”
“Okay.”
“The blood on the walls and hallway has been identified as Darla’s, but we haven’t been able to identify any fingerprints except for hers. Many areas have been cleaned and scrubbed. I’ll keep you posted,” he said.
“Thanks, John.”
He ended the call and Katie slowly put her cell phone down.
