The Doll Garden

Five

"... but as of this morning, the three victims were identified as 48-year-old Sofia Saldana, 48-year-old Lais Rodriguez, and 48-year-old Marisol Martinez... Cause of death has not yet been determined; however, each of the victims were found with their internal organs removed..."

I'd heard the reporter talking. But I wasn't exactly listening. My mind was choosing to be selective of the words I processed.

Hollow and empty. Those were the words the forensic investigator used to describe how the women felt when retrieved from the garden wall. And I clung onto those words. I couldn't comprehend how a body could feel so light in that context.

Like the weight of a girl with a hollow inside and a thick exterior made with the prettiest of textures. Just like a doll—a porcelain doll. I knew that description well. It was no wonder the remains seemed so doll-like on the outside. They'd been preserved for God knows how long.

I noticed Manuel frown. There was a jolt in his body, indicating a blanket of chills swept over him. "Same ethnicity. Same age. Similar features. Hell, it can't get any creepier than that..." he said, barely above a whisper.

He was right to be disturbed. They were all Afro-Latina women. Their profiles were too specific. Too perfect. Someone had taken the utmost care and caution with these women when they targeted them. A perfectionist, this person must have been... I only knew one.

"No charges have yet been laid, and the investigation is still underway to figure out exactly how these three women ended up on the Harrington property—"

"Please turn that thing off Manuel..." A sigh eased out of Mirabelle's mouth as she used two of her fingers on her right hand to rub the side of her temple. A steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee was placed in her other hand.

"Sorry," he murmured, clicking the power button on the TV remote. The screen switched from a multi-color picture to pitch-black, indicating it'd shut off. Manuel let his feet drop from the coffee table onto the carpet and threw the remote to the side of the couch.

It'd now been nine days since the bodies were found. I'd been keeping track. My compulsive thinking habits wouldn't allow me to relax. We had all woken up bright and early this morning, finding our way into the living room at the crack of dawn with the TV volume cranked up to twenty. We had realized none of us were able to get a proper sleep.

"I'm sorry, Manny. Didn't mean to get snappy. It's just... What kind of sicko would take the insides out of a body, stitch it back up, and doll their—" As the realization dawned on her that the prime suspect was our father, she fell quiet in the midst of her rant.

Mirabelle puffed out her cheeks then deflated them, her eyes grazing her lap. A thick, awkward tension filled the living room. Manuel and I exchanged glances. The shared look didn't last long when the sound of a door upstairs opening and closing shook the living room.

It was probably one of the staff. They'd all been cooped up in my father's study for over an hour now, most likely listening to him discuss the terms of the investigation. There was no telling how much this would tamper with everyone's usual schedule.

My dad had made his surprise appearance sooner than any of us were betting on. With his oxygen tank in hand, Candace and Henry helped him through the doors while we were sat bunched up on the couch this morning. He'd greeted us, then called all of the staff upstairs. We didn't get so much as a peep out of him about everything that'd been going on.

He owed us an explanation as soon as that meeting was over.

"Never mind..." Mirabelle cleared her throat, her tone wavering, "I'm just going to go see if Andy's out of the shower." She was off the couch and dashing towards the stairs before either of us could speak.