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“Calm down, Lucian.” His hands settle across my back, and he tugs me to my feet. “What is it? What are you saying?”

“Solange! She’s dead! In the cave! I saw her!”

Brows furrowed, he tips his head and lifts his gaze toward the direction from where I came running. “Are you certain that’s what you saw?”

“Yes!” The shock releases its hold, and my muscles give out on me again. I collapse in his arms as a sob rips from my chest. “She’s … dead.”

Chapter 20

Isadora

Present day …

I wheel the chair into Laura’s doll room, where Nell meets us.

“Short excursion today.” Handing over Laura’s cane, she stands off to the side, allowing the woman to push to her feet. As she reaches for one of Laura’s hands to steady her, the older woman bats her away.

“One moment.” Laura hobbles toward the glass case of dolls, her reflection showing a content smile. “Look how beautiful. My beautiful little children.”

I exchange a glance with Nell, who rolls her eyes with impatience, and approach Laura from behind. “Which is your favorite?”

“A mother doesn’t have favorites.”

“Fair enough, which is the most priceless?”

“Ironically, it’s the one I paid the most for.” She points to one of the smaller dolls, one that seems old fashioned in rag clothes and a bonnet, with puffy cheeks and heart-shaped lips. Completely unnoticeable in a sea of dolls with far more color and detail. “I’d almost forgotten about her. I purchased her from Theriault’s for three hundred thousand dollars.”

My heart damn near cuts out, and I cough at the absurdity of paying so much for a doll.

Laura lifts her hand to the bracelet at her wrist and the small key that dangles from the linked chains. She unlocks the door and reaches in for the doll, her thumb gently brushing over its cheek while she smiles admirably. “She was created by the French sculptor Albert Marque, for the Parisian couturier, Jeanne Margaix-LaCroix, back in the early nineteen-hundreds.”

“It must be very special to you.”

“Griffin thought it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever purchased.” Leaning into her cane, she sets the doll back in the case and locks the glass. “A man who spared no expense for his little dinner parties. Do you know, he once paid a half-dozen women to pose naked as live sculptures?” She scoffs, hobbling back toward her bedroom. “A hundred-thousand dollars for a few hours of lewd entertainment. And how many men stood fondling those young girls.”

The more time I spend here, the more I realize what little discretion the Blackthornes have when it comes to money.

Nell and I follow after her, and I hold back the covers of her bed, while Nell scurries ahead of Laura to help settle her in.

“I need to use the ladies room. A little privacy, if you will.” Cane clicking across the floor, Laura shuffles toward the bathroom with little trouble.

Nell jerks her head toward me. “I’m going out on the balcony. Wanna join?”

“Sure.” I lock the wheelchair in place, glancing back to see Laura closing the door behind her, and follow Nell out the door.

With a huff, Nell takes the chair farthest away, presumably to keep her smoke sequestered from me, but the light breeze on the air ensures it’ll blow in my face.

“Can you imagine? Three-hundred grand for a fucking doll?” she asks, plopping into the seat. “I can’t even afford a decent used car, and she’s dropping cash on a goddamn doll that she keeps locked up in a box with all her other toys.”

“It’s definitely not something I’m accustomed to. I can think of a lot of things I’d spend that kind of money on.”

“You and me both.” As she lifts the cigarette to her lips, I notice her shirt pulled up to her elbows, revealing a couple tattoos.

I nod toward the anchor inked on the back of her wrist. “Nice ink.”

Taking a long drag, she twists her arm, then blows the smoke to the side. “Thanks. It’s my little reminder.”

“Of what?”