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hadn’t gotten wind of the situation, you would have been hauled in and booked.”
    Claire listened to everything he said, and then she shrugged. “I don’t care what you think, this is different. I know what I saw.”
    He shook his head, at a loss. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to help you.”
    “You could try believing me.”
    “That’s the one thing I can’t do. I can’t feed this obsession of yours, Claire. I won’t. Because I know how it’s going to turn out. You’ll get yourself all worked up again and then your heart’s going to be ripped open like it always is. I’ve seen it happen over and over, and this time won’t be any different. It’s been seven years. Seven damn years. You can’t spend the rest of your life grieving like this. You have to find a way to get over what happened.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked toward the window. “I don’t know, maybe you need to see someone.”
    “I’ve been to a therapist. It didn’t solve anything.”
    “Then maybe you need to find a different one. You have to do something.”
    “I’m not crazy, Alex.”
    “You will be if you keep this up. I don’t want you ending up like your old man.”
    She gasped. “I would never do that!”
    “I don’t want to believe it, either, but sometimes I have to wonder.” He stared out at the weather, his frustration collecting on his face like raindrops on the windowsill. “I see divorces in the department all the time. They’re as common as dirt. Cops just can’t seem to stay married. But most of the time it’s because of another woman or the lousy pay or because the wife gets sick of her man rolling around in the gutter before he comes home to her.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “But none of those things were ever our problem, were they? What did us in was that what you had was never going to be as important as what you lost.”
    “That’s not fair,” she said. “My daughter was kidnapped. That’s not something you ever get over.”
    “I’m not talking about Ruby.”
    The nerves in Claire’s stomach tightened and she closed her eyes briefly. “Don’t say it.”
    His face went white with suppressed fury. “You mean I’m not even allowed to mention the son of a bitch’s name? Well, I don’t know why that should surprise me. From the moment he showed up on your doorstep the night we got married, I never stood a chance, did I, Claire?”
    “That’s not true. Our problems had nothing to do with him. I haven’t even seen him in years.”
    “When’s the last time you dreamed about him?”
    She looked away, silent.
    “You can’t even deny it, can you?” Alex scrubbed a hand down his face and drew a long breath. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come over here to start something with you, Claire. I just want to help you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
    “Then let me go,” she whispered.
    “I wish I knew how to do that. I really do.”

Six
     
     
    T he child was enchanted by the dolls.
    And the Dollmaker was enchanted by her.
    Earlier, when he first got back from the city, he’d prepared a dinner tray and brought it down to the studio, deliberately leaving her door open to see if she would venture out. Then he’d gone over to his worktable, where he’d mounted a mirror on the wall so that he could watch the room behind him as he pretended to sketch.
    After a few moments, he saw her hovering in the doorway. She was such a slight child. Waiflike, with her long, wavy hair and big brown eyes. He couldn’t take his own eyes off her.
    She remained in the doorway, her gaze darting about the studio as she searched for a way out. His workbench was against the far wall, and the mirror was slanted in such a way that he could watch her discreetly. She didn’t see him at first as she took a tentative step into the room, her head turning first one way and then the other.
    When she spotted him, her eyes widened and she started to retreat back into