Free Pretty Stolen Dolls by Ker Dukey, K Webster

the best thing I’ve felt since he stole me.
    “I can do it myself,” I murmur, my voice hoarse and wary.
    “No,” he says, a low growl escaping him. “I will clean my dirty little doll.” He dips the sponge back into the water and taps my leg with the other hand.
    When I don’t move, he taps it again, harder.
    Squeezing my thighs together, I refuse his voiceless command.
    Smacking my skin once more, causing a sting, he attempts to get me to spread them apart. I grit my teeth and remain defiant.
    “Stay dirty then,” he snaps before getting to his feet and taking the bucket with him, but I don’t want to be dirty and sticky. I reach for his arm in a bout of desperation.
    “No, please.”
    He looks down at my hand on his arm and I quickly yank it back.
    I part my legs to show him I’ll do as I’m told and he watches me for a moment, studying me in silence. Without warning, a force of water collides against the apex of my thighs with a whoosh, making me gasp.
    He cleans me quickly and efficiently, and then he’s gone and the cell door is clanking shut. I’m about to break down at the thought of being without panties when his arm dangles through the bars, blocking out the soft orange glow, a pair of pink panties hanging from his finger.

    “Detective?”
    I jerk my gaze from the picture and find Mrs. Stevens’ questioning eyes.
    A sheen of sweat has soaked my shirt from the inside out.
    “I’m sorry…”
    She frowns. “Is this the man you think took my daughter? Do you know this man? Oh God, is he a serial killer?”
    Backtracking, I scramble to calm her. “No, I’m just following all leads.”
    Her head shakes as she points at me. “You know him. Whoever this is. You’re crying, Detective.”
    My mouth parts open and I swipe away the rogue tears that gave me away. “I, uh…he’s just someone…”
    “What did he do? Dear God,” she chokes out.
    Frowning, I lean forward and take her hand.
    “This man hurt me and my sister a very long time ago. But I have reason to believe he’s out there again. It may have nothing to do with your daughter, but I can assure you I won’t sleep until I find her. I’m personally invested in this case.”
    And that’s why I shouldn’t be here. I’m risking my badge, divulging this stuff to her, losing my shit, and letting my memories steal me from the present.
    Tears spill down over her cheeks and she squeezes my hand.
    “Don’t let him hurt my baby girl. Oh God, please.”
    “I won’t allow it, I promise,” I say, trying to comfort her, but it’s false promises. What if he already has hurt her?
    “Thank you,” she chokes. “Thank you. I’m so sorry for whatever happened to you.”
    Giving her a deceptive smile, I stand and nod. “Me too.”

    “You gonna tell me what happened earlier today?” Dillon questions, his eyes on mine as he stirs way too much sugar into his coffee.
    The man will have diabetes by the time he’s forty if he’s not careful. “It won’t make you sweeter.” I gesture to the sugar and he grins.
    “You think I’m sweet enough?”
    I snort. “Not what I meant.”
    He nods his head and tilts it to the side “I know what you are trying to do. Not happening. Now, answer the question.”
    “It was nothing.” My lie causes his brows to lift. There’s nothing getting past this guy.
    “You flipping your shit is hardly nothing. I’ve been watching you for eight months and you’ve never lost it like that,” he says, his voice dropping a few octaves. “Something happened and we’re not leaving this coffee shop until you tell me what it was.”
    “Watching me for eight months?” I query, humming birds vibrating in my stomach, though I don’t know why. Lowering his head, he coughs and pats his chest
    “Working with you for eight months—working, not watching. You’re trying to stray from the topic at hand,” he accuses, not looking me in the eye.
    My gaze falls to the napkin I’ve been shredding. “It won’t happen