Page 2 of Pretty Broken Dolls
Thoughts of dread and horror-filled scenarios ran through Mandy’s mind. Urgently, she pushed the redial button on her phone again.
The sound of Jeanine’s ringtone rang in the darkness. This time it kept ringing and there was no cheerful message.
Mandy walked further into the dark realm of the trees, still hoping that there was a logical explanation. Stepping over old branches with loud crunching noises and sidestepping bushes just before reaching the back fence of the property, she managed to make her way to the sound of the ringing phone.
Everything went quiet.
Mandy stood a foot from the phone lying on the ground. It mesmerized her. She slowly bent down to pick it up. With a startled gasp, she stepped back, dropping the phone as she stared at her hand. It was covered in blood.
In a frenzied panic, Mandy ran past the phone and continued along the low wrought-iron fence. The flashlight feature dimmed and she couldn’t see where she was going. Slowing her pace, she glimpsed something white and moving slightly.
“Jeanine? What’s going on?” She spoke in a strained whisper.
Trying to catch her breath and calm her hammering pulse, Mandy approached. Her cell phone flashlight surged and shone brightly on the blood-soaked white silk blouse, now shredded from Jeanine’s right shoulder. She reeled back at the sight of her friend.
Mandy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horror. Her throat constricted as her breath trapped in her chest. She staggered backwards, taking in the entire scene—unable to turn her focus away.
Her friend’s upper body was impaled on the iron fence penetrating from her back through her ribs, and her throat was slit open. Her head flopped down, lifeless eyes trained on the ground. Her long brown hair fell forward, some strands sticking to the blood seeping from her chest. Her arms hung at her sides, legs crooked, like a marionette waiting for someone to pull the strings. Blood still dripped from her body, sliding down her arms to her fingertips before collecting on the ground—the wet crimson almost matching her fingernail polish. The body was shoeless and Jeanine’s feet were dirty and bloody—as if she had been running through the woods barefoot.
It was the sight of Jeanine’s face that made her sob in terror. Caked in grotesque makeup, making her look like a caricature of herself—a hideous broken doll. Red lipstick drawn heavy around her lips, dark purples for blush on her cheeks, and dark blues for eye shadow made her look like a circus clown instead of her friend.
Beside Jeanine’s body, a necklace hung on the fence. It was a small locket that she always wore, which her mother had given her when she turned sixteen.
Mandy mouthed the word “Jeanine” but no sound escaped her lips. Realizing she still had her cell phone in her hand, she tried to dial 911 but fumbled a few times with the buttons before she heard the words,“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
Chapter One
One year later…
Friday 1000 hours
Detective Katie Scott and Deputy Sean McGaven managed to get the search warrants they needed, along with a crew of police officers, to search the entire property including the Stantons’ house, cars, barn, and storage areas. There were additional search warrants for the adjacent pond next to the Stantons’ property and a large nearby pond owned by the state where many locals gathered to swim and fish and picnic on sunny days.
As Katie stood on the property watching the police and forensic personnel descend and fan out in search formation, she wondered if she had overstepped her authority—or her enthusiasm for such a huge search—but eighteen-year-old Jared Stanton was still missing after six months and she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t do all she could to find him.
She had her reasons for instructing the search, but what if it was just a hunch and he wasn’t found?
What if this was just a waste of time and resources?
But her instincts screamed that Jared was dead, and that his body had been disposed of in a local pond; there would be no other way to get rid of a body that quickly and quietly before claiming that he had run away.
Katie and McGaven had constructed this theory based on evidence from their own examination, and the original investigation by Detective Alvarez six months ago when Jared Stanton was first reported missing. They knew that Jared and his parents had had an argument early in the weekend on Friday or Saturday. The reason for the argument wasn’t entirely known. The fact that Jared’s keys, phone, wallet, and his car were found at the property were indications that this wasn’t a runaway teenager. It was highly likely he had been killed, either accidentally or out of rage, and his body disposed of nearby.
There was evidence of recent repairs, fresh paint, and alterations to the siding at one end of the barn, and two ATVs were missing. Things didn’t add up.
The afternoon was cold and overcast, the grim sky lending an ominous weight to the scene, as the police worked their duties. Feeling the chill, Katie had gone back to the car and retrieved her warmer leather jacket and gloves. She zipped the coat up close to her neck to keep the cold away, but still felt shivers slide down her spine in anticipation of what they might find.
She knew that everyone from the department was watching her closely—she was still considered a rookie detective despite her accomplishments, and there were those who whispered about nepotism, which made her uncomfortable. If only they knew that her uncle, Sheriff Scott, was harder on her than anyone.
Katie walked down the same path she had taken with Amy, Jared’s sister, only a couple of days ago and glanced up at Amy’s bedroom window to see her in place again, looking down. Katie gave a wave but Amy didn’t move from her position. Mr. and Mrs. Stanton were inside the house with a police officer and their attorney. They chose not to watch the search.
The walk around the picturesque property didn’t have the same tranquil feeling it had a couple of days ago. The horses were grazing, but the darkness of the early afternoon made it appear more like the end of the day.
Over by the pond, McGaven was coordinating the dive team which consisted of two sheriff’s deputies and Katie’s fiancé Chad from the fire department, who navigated the motorized inflatable boat across the water. Chad was the dive and scuba instructor for the county, so he led the expedition while several uniformed officers stood around the perimeter and waited for instruction. A large police SUV retrofitted with a hoist winch was parked nearby in case it was needed.
The boat navigated slowly, chugging a few feet at a time, gently moving in a clockwise rotation, and stopping to let two of the divers search in each area for a minute or two before moving on. Bubbles from their respirators rippled the murky surface of the tranquil pond, which otherwise was smooth and glassy, reflecting the looming pine and eucalyptus trees surrounding it.
One diver would surface in his full scuba suit, bobbing like a seal in the ocean, and give the negative sign. A minute later, the other diver would surface and repeated the same signal—negative.
