The House of Dolls by David Hewson Read Free Book Online Page B

something here that needs to be done . . .’
    Nothing more.
    ‘They sell dolls like that in all the tourist shops in De Wallen,’ Mulder said. ‘Could have come from anywhere. The kid’s probably jerking him around.’
    Vos nodded, looked at the figure in the box. It wasn’t much like the one he’d received. He put both gloved hands underneath the back and lifted it. Heavier than he expected.
    ‘Torch,’ Vos said and held out a hand.
    Bakker was there straight away, pulling a long police Maglite out of the pockets of her grey trousers and placing it in his hands. Vos lifted the dress and shone the beam through the translucent plastic of the torso. A dim black shape was just visible.
    De Groot swore and glowered at Mulder.
    ‘Haven’t forensic been over this thing?’ he asked.
    ‘I got the DNA. You told me you were bringing in Vos and Prins! I was waiting . . .’
    ‘Good idea,’ Vos said and took the torch away.
    Carefully, piece by piece, he removed all the doll’s clothing. On the neck, by a mark saying ‘Made in China’, there was what looked like a small speaker and a hole next to it that could have been for a microphone. The thing could talk. And play back a customized recorded message.
    Vos gently pumped the doll’s stomach.
    Something crackled. There was an uncertain, electronic racket. After that came the shrieking.
    The doll.
    Liesbeth Prins.
    Both of them.
    Vos got his ear closer to the plastic head and tried to listen.
    ‘Daddy! Daddy! Christ . . .’
    A young girl’s voice in agony and pain. A scream. A bellow of anguish.
    A repeating refrain.
    ‘Help me! Help me! Help . . .’
    Liesbeth was on him, beating at his arm, shrieking, ‘Turn it off for God’s sake.’
    The thing was on a loop. It was back at the beginning already.
    Laura Bakker had her hands to her mouth, her face paler than ever. De Groot looked lost and helpless. Even Klaas Mulder didn’t have a thing to say.
    ‘It’s Katja?’ Vos asked.
    ‘It’s Katja,’ she said. ‘Christ, Pieter. Turn it off—’
    ‘I don’t know how.’
    He looked round the room, opened his arms. ‘Anyone?’
    The doll kept squawking.
    Mulder walked over, touched something by the ear. The screaming stopped.
    Vos looked at him.
    ‘There was a switch,’ Mulder said dryly. ‘You saw it too. Don’t pretend . . .’
    ‘No,’ Vos said with a slow nod. ‘I didn’t see it. I’m out of practice. Slow. Stupid. I don’t know why I’m here.’ He looked at Liesbeth Prins. ‘You need to ask your husband to come into the station. It doesn’t matter if this is Katja’s doing or someone else’s. He should be here.’
    He tore off the disposable gloves.
    ‘What next?’ Bakker asked.
    ‘I need to pick up my dog from the Drie Vaten. I’ve got a houseboat to fix. There’s a band at the Melkweg tonight I was thinking of seeing and . . .’
    A hand on his arm. Liesbeth’s sad eyes turned on him.
    ‘The doll’s bigger than the one I got,’ Vos said, exasperated. ‘This one has a message. Mine didn’t. Anyone who read about the case in the papers could have done this.’
    A sudden flash of anger on her face.
    ‘And left it on my doorstep? It’s the same man . . .’
    ‘You don’t know that. You can’t rush to—’
    ‘A young girl’s missing. Jesus. Can’t you hear her? Can’t you see her? Anneliese—’
    ‘Anneliese’s gone. I tried. So did all the police officers in Amsterdam. We couldn’t bring her back. I apologize. I did what I could. I failed.’
    There was a harsh tone to his voice and he regretted it immediately.
    The woman he’d lived with for most of his adult life, loved, never expected to leave him, put her bony fingers into her bag, pulled out a photo. Then another. Vos looked at them. Their daughter at her last birthday party. Bright eyes, long blonde hair, smile on her face. A future in front of her.
    The second, he knew, was Katja Prins, not that he’d ever met the girl except through a picture in the odd gossip