Amanda Stevens - The Dollmaker

For Leanne, Lucas and Steven

I am deeply grateful to my editor, Denise Zaza, and everyone at MIRA Books for their encouragement and support and for helping me turn a dream into reality. Many thanks to my agent, Helen Breitwieser, for her advice and enthusiasm, and most of all, for not allowing this story to fade away. Thanks also to Carla Luan and Heather MacAllister for their tireless brainstorming and critiquing and to Leanne Amann for her innovative PR strategies.

The doll was getting to him. Even though Travis McSwain wasnt a man easily spooked. She was so lifelike that anyone glancing through the shop window might mistake her for a pretty, little, blond-haired girl.

But up close, the eyes gave her away. They looked like pieces of turquoise. Travis had never seen real eyes that color.

He didnt like staring at her for too long because his mind kept playing tricks on him. Earlier, when hed packed her up to bring her into the city, he could have sworn those glass eyes followed his every move. They gave him the chills so bad hed had half a mind to chuck her in the swamp. But he needed the money and so here he was.

The shopkeeper glanced up from her inspection. Shes stunning. Absolutely breathtaking. If youll just give me a few more minutes we can discuss your payment terms.

Take your time, Travis muttered, but he wished to hell the woman would hurry up. The sooner he got rid of the doll the sooner hed breathe a lot easier.

Something about that porcelain face creeped him out. It was almost as if Travis had seen her before, in a dream maybe, but he didnt know how that could be possible. She was one of a kind.

Hed gone up to the old Sweete place looking for work, and when he spotted the doll through the front window, hed decided to snatch her, because thats what he did. He took things that didnt belong to him. It was some kind of sickness, he reckoned.

Before his Pentecostal mother went off the deep end, she used to weep and pray for his immortal soul, but his daddy had favored another approach. Whenever Travis got caught using the five-finger discount, the old man would take a belt to his hide, work him over good until his back and butt cheeks resembled raw steak.

But after the first time Travis got sent off to juvenile detention in St. James Parish, Cletus McSwains attitude had changed. Hed pretty much washed his hands of his son. One of these days youll pinch from the wrong person, boy, and end up with a bullet right between the eyeballs. And when that happens, Ill be damned if I shed a tear over your sorry ass.

Well, that was fair. Because Travis sure as hell hadnt done much crying when the pious old bastard got swept off a shrimp boat and drowned in the Gulf. And now here Travis stood, right as rain, while his daddy swam with the fishes down in Terrebonne Bay.

Sometimes you just had to laugh at how things worked out.

Travis leaned an elbow on the counter and tried to assume a casual air as the shopkeeper continued to study the doll. But every once in a while, when the woman wasnt looking, his gaze would dart to the front window. He didnt like to put much stock in his old mans predictions, but ever since hed taken the doll, Travis had a real bad feeling that maybe, just maybe, hed gotten in over his head this time. Boosting cars was one thing, but jacking that doll was starting to feel a little like kidnapping.

A shiver snaked up his spine. It was like the damn thing was hexed or something.

He fingered the mojo bag he carried around in his pocket. Its just a toy.

But the doll was more than a toy. Everyone in Terrebonne Parish knew that Savannah Sweetes dolls were one of a kind and worth a lot of money. And someone was going to want it back.

He cast another glance at the window. Rain was coming and the gloomy twilight deepened his unease. He was letting his nerves get the better of him, but he couldnt seem to help it. New Orleans did that to him. He hadnt been back since Katrina, and the landscape had changed so much hed hardly recognized the place, driving in. But the soul of the citythe Vieux Carrremained the same. Travis didnt know if that was a good thing or not.

Earlier, hed walked around for a little while before his appointment with the shop owner, and hed been struck by how normal everything seemed. Normal for the Quarter, anyway. It was still early, but the strip joints on Bourbon Street were already open, giving passersby free peep shows from the doorways. Traviss attention had been captivated by a tall, leggy blonde undulating to a country and western song. Her back was to the door, but when she glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes fastened like laser beams on Travis.

She was incredibly limber, and her ass and thighs were as tight as the skin on a snare drum. She smiled and curled a finger in his direction, inviting him in for a closer inspection, and Travis had been sorely tempted. But then she turned slowly to face him, and anger washed over him when he realized hed been standing there gawking at a transvestite.

A throaty voice had said from the doorway, Come on in, sugar, she dont bite. Her name is Cherry Rose. You like what Cherry Rose got down there, no?

No, Travis muttered, and turned away.

Hey, dont be like that! the voice called after him. Come on back here, baby. Cherry Rose make a real man out of you.

Some of the tourists on the street overheard and started laughing, and Traviss fist itched to connect with the he-bitchs red mouth. But Bourbon Street drag queens were notorious for strapping switchblades to their thighs, and when they got all hopped up on speed, theyd as soon cut a mans balls off as look at him.

So Travis had hurried away. But as he crossed the street hed glanced back and noticed someone standing on the sidewalk, staring after him. Not the dancer or the hawker in the doorway, but a strange-looking woman wearing silver earrings and a flowing green skirt.

Something about the way she gazed at him startled Travis, and hed paused for a moment to stare back at her. Then he lost her in the noisy crowd on the street and moved on.

He thought about the woman now and wondered where shed gone off to, wondered if he might be able to find her once his business with the shopkeeper was settled.

Then again, maybe he ought to leave well enough alone and get his ass on home, where he could tell what was what. But after taking that doll, Terrebonne Parish might not be the safest place for him right now.

Suppressing a shudder, he said impatiently, Dont mean to rush you, maam, but I aint got all night.

The woman looked up with an apologetic smile. Im sorry for making you wait, dear, but I rarely come across workmanship of this quality. The freckles across the nosethe tiny birthmark on her left armthat kind of attention to detail is a Savannah Sweete trademark. I just cant get over how meticulous she is.

Uh-huh.

However The womans tone sharpened, as if she was readying herself to get down to business. She was an old broad with steely blue eyes and cottony hair. Her glasses were the shape of cats eyes, and as she spoke, she kept slipping them off and chewing on one of the stems.

Travis frowned. Whats wrong? You dont like her so much all of a sudden?

No, it isnt that. As I said, the doll is beautiful. But there are some fairly convincing imitations making the rounds these days. A few of Savannahs former students have mastered her technique, and I know of one or two who have actually tried to pass off their work as hers. The woman paused, her gaze dropping to the doll. Do you have the certificate of authenticity?

Travis had thought that might be a problem, but he was prepared to bluff his way through it. After all, bullshitting was second nature to him. Just like stealing. If youre the expert you claim to be, you should be able to tell just by looking at her that shes the real deal. He reached out and flipped one of the dolls golden curls with his fingertip. You said yourself youve never seen such quality.