The Cage: D.I. Eve Strong Book One by Julie Morrigan

Author:Julie Morrigan [Morrigan, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morrigan Publishing
Published: 2019-02-18T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

When he’d finished using the new doll – and venting the last of his anger at the doll who’d caused him all the trouble, the one he’d just killed – he took it back into the loft, fed it, and put it away in the cage. That done, he left the loft and went to his own bathroom, which was along the landing from the one the dolls used.

The bath was full and Felicity Wanless lay face down in the water. He put on a beanie and made sure his hair was tucked inside, then donned latex gloves and proceeded to lather her hair and soap her all over, cleaning her thoroughly. He dunked her under the water to get the suds out of her hair, then drained the bath. That done, he took down the shower head and rinsed her down all over to remove any remaining residue.

The last doll had been a nuisance to deal with. He’d walloped it over the head with a hammer and it had made a mess. He should have stuck to his preferred method – a plastic bag over the head, like he’d done to the first two, and to his mother before that. He’d got the blood out of its hair, washed those pretty gold strands and combed them out, before he cut it all off to keep, but once the doll was shorn, he found he couldn’t look at it.

It wasn’t just that its most attractive feature was now gone, it was that the shape of the head was different, it affected how it looked as much as the loss of its hair did. In the end, he’d stuck a carrier bag over its head – one of the many his mother had hoarded for years – then gone looking for something to fix it in place with. An old shawl that used to belong to his mother turned out to be the ideal thing. It was ugly, he hated it, and it was so old that no one left alive would recognise it or know where it had come from. He used it to wrap the head, and it solved the problem.

He left Felicity face up, to dry off a little, and headed back to the spare bedroom. In the corner was a box with a few tunics in. He took one, and made a mental note to run up some more before they ran out. The dolls weren’t lasting as long, now; he was getting through the tunics faster. Mother had been a dab hand at soft furnishings. She made curtains and cushions, and had even recovered the three piece herself. He’d learned from her and had put her sewing machine to good use.

When he stopped to think about it, it struck him as odd that his father, who had been a violent man, had died a peaceful death whereas his mother, who had been a victim, like him, had been murdered.

His father had been a monster, worse when drunk, and had enjoyed using his fists on his wife and son.

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