Read Online The Doll Maker by Richard Montanari - Free Book Online

the next twenty-four, would give investigators a blanket coverage of the area – who came and went, when they did so, and what, if anything, they had seen.
    Since the massive Shawmont Pumping Station had been razed, the number of curiosity seekers taking the path down to the river had dropped significantly. The pumping station had been a destination for rendezvous, both covert and romantic, as well as drug dealing.
    As the two detectives joined Jessica and Byrne, one of the uniformed officers, P/O Kasky, approached.
    ‘CSU asked me to bring this over.’
    It was a small leatherette case, a delicate billfold of sorts. ‘Where was it?’ Byrne asked.
    ‘It was in the victim’s skirt pocket.’
    ‘Right or left?’
    ‘I don’t know, sir.’
    ‘Any other contents?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    Kasky handed it to Byrne, who flipped it open. Inside was a school ID, along with an emergency contact number. The ID had a photo on the left.
    ‘Is that her?’ the officer asked, glancing toward the river.
    A few minutes ago he couldn’t look at the victim, Jessica thought. Now he was having a hard time looking at his fellow officers. This was clearly tough for him.
    Byrne looked at the picture on the school ID.
    It was her.
    The dead girl’s name was Nicole Solomon.

    As Byrne signed off on the crime scene log, and took down contact information from Annie Stovicek, Jessica walked back to the car. She turned and looked once again at the tableau. From her vantage she could see both the victim, Nicole Solomon, and the little girl in the bicycle carrier, Miranda Stovicek.
    Two girls.
    One beginning her life, one whose life was over.

6
    The house was a two-story red brick row home on a gentrified block in the Bella Vista section of South Philadelphia, just a few blocks from where Jessica had grown up on Catharine Street, where her father still lived.
    On the way to make the notification, Jessica called Dana Westbrook and gave her a status report. She was told that, within the hour, Nicole Solomon’s body would be transported to the morgue, which was located at the Medical Examiner’s office on University Avenue.
    When Jessica and Byrne arrived at just before noon the sun shone brightly, the trees that lined the street were in full autumn burn.
    Before driving to South Philly, they had checked to see if there had been a missing person’s report for a girl matching Nicole’s description. They learned that David Solomon, the girl’s father, had called 911 at just after midnight.
    Byrne stood on the small porch, rang the bell. Jessica stood behind him. Jessica noted a mezuzah on the right side of the doorframe. After a few moments the door opened. A man in his late forties stood before them. He had close-cropped black hair, threaded with silver, and wore a navy sleeveless V-neck sweater, white oxford cloth shirt, and tan Dockers.
    ‘Are you David Solomon?’ Byrne asked.
    ‘Yes,’ the man said. ‘I am.’
    Byrne took out his ID. ‘Sir, my name is—’
    ‘It’s her, isn’t it?’
    Byrne stopped. ‘I’m sorry?’
    Solomon turned and pointed at the television behind him in the living room. The picture showed a live shot of the Shawmont train station, taken from just outside the police cordon. The crawl on the lower third of the screen read: ‘Body of missing girl found.’
    David Solomon turned back to the two detectives. ‘It’s her, isn’t it?’
    Byrne asked: ‘Mr Solomon, do you have a daughter named Nicole?’
    The man did not answer. He just raised a hand to his mouth.
    Byrne held up the girl’s school photo ID. ‘Is this your daughter, sir?’
    A few seconds later the man nodded slowly.
    ‘I’m sorry to say that, yes, the news report is about your daughter.’
    Solomon closed his eyes. A single tear coursed down his right cheek.
    ‘May we come in, sir?’ Byrne asked.
    Without a word, Solomon stepped to the side. Jessica and Byrne entered the front room. The room was well lived in, comfortable. The furniture was