Skitter-skitter.

   I froze, my gaze darting over to the trash can. But the bottle was as still and broken as before, the shards of glass gleaming in the weak sunlight. So what had made that noise?

   Or who?

   I palmed a knife, darted forward, and crouched down beside that closest trash can, making myself as small and invisible as possible. Goose bumps rippled up and down my arms, but they weren’t from the cold wind. No, this particular sensation meant only one thing.

   Someone was watching me.

   My gaze darted from one side of the parking lot to the other, but I saw the exact same things as before. Cracked asphalt, empty trash cans, yellow crime-scene tape, a tall shadow at the corner of one of the Dumpsters—

   Wait a second. That shadow hadn’t been there before.

   My eyes narrowed, and I focused on the shape, but it was just a slender shadow, a patch of pavement a shade darker than all the rest. It didn’t tell me anything about whoever was lurking back there.

   But someone was lurking back there, I was sure of it.

   I crouched down a little more, but the angle was wrong, and I couldn’t look underneath the Dumpster to see his shoes. I didn’t know exactly who was back there—if it was the Dollmaker or some other enemy—but if he wouldn’t come out and face me, then I’d just sneak up and stab him in the back.

   Still holding my knife, I got to my feet and crept forward, making as little noise as possible, and headed toward the far right side of the Dumpster, at the opposite end from where the shadow was. I kept my gaze on the shadow the whole time, but it didn’t move, not even an inch. Whoever was back there was as good at waiting as I was.

   I reached the front corner of the Dumpster, but the shadow still hadn’t moved. The only sound was the wind whistling through the parking lot, the cold gusts of air continually kissing my cheeks.

   I drew in a breath and slowly let it out. Then I raised my knife and charged around to the back of the Dumpster.

   Empty—the space behind the container was completely, utterly, depressingly empty.

   No one was here.

   I sprinted to the opposite end of the container, around the side, and back out into the parking lot beyond, but the shadow had vanished. I whirled around and around, looking in all directions, but I was all alone. If the Dollmaker had been here, he was gone.

   “Dammit!” I snarled, stalking back and forth across the parking lot. “Dammit!”

   Angry and frustrated, I whipped around and slammed my boot into the side of the closest Dumpster, right where the shadow had been. The wheels screeched in protest, but the container slid back a couple of inches, and a glimmer of gold flashed in the sun.

   I blinked, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but they weren’t.

   Something bright and shiny was lying underneath the Dumpster, close to one of the front wheels.

   Still holding my knife, I looked around again, just in case this was a ploy to get me to lower my guard so my enemy could get the drop on me. But I was as alone as before, so I sidled forward, crouched down, and reached underneath the Dumpster. Sure enough, my fingers closed over something cold, hard, and metal, and I pulled it out where I could see it.

   A small gold tube glinted in the palm of my hand.

   And not just any kind of tube—a lipstick case.

   I sucked in a breath and got to my feet. I glanced around again, making sure that no one was sneaking up on me, then slid my knife back up my sleeve so that I could examine the tube with both hands.

   I’d never seen this particular lipstick before, but the tube was solid gold, with sleek, wavy sides, telling me that it was expensive. I tilted the tube to the side and realized that the words Glo-Glo were stamped into the metal. That must be the brand name. I turned the tube up so that I could see the small print on the bottom that would tell me the exact color: Heartbreaker.

   A cold, sick feeling flooded the pit of my stomach, but I uncapped the tube and slowly rolled it up, knowing exactly what I would find. Sure enough, the lipstick inside was blood-red.

   The same blood-red that had been used to draw my spider runes on that dead girl’s hands.

17

   The sight of the blood-red lipstick—the Heartbreaker ­lipstick—punched me in the gut.

   It was one thing to have seen my spider runes on the dead girl’s hands. But to be holding the thing that they’d been drawn with, something so benign, so innocent, so ordinary . . . It was a painful reminder of just how sadistic the Dollmaker was—and just how much danger Elissa was in.

   But I pushed my feelings aside and forced myself to examine the tube from all angles. And I noticed something odd: the lipstick hadn’t been used. Not at all. If this were the tube that had been used on Lacey Lawrence, the lipstick would have been worn down, but this one was still smooth, sharp, and whole, as though it had just come from the store.

   Maybe it had. This tube hadn’t been here last night. Otherwise, Bria and Xavier would have found it. And I hadn’t spotted it during my initial search either. I hadn’t seen anything except that shadow, but I was more convinced than ever that someone had been watching me—and that that person had planted this lipstick for me to find. It was the only thing that made sense.

   But who would do that? And why? Was it the Dollmaker, taunting me again? Had he been hiding behind the Dumpster, waiting for me to turn my back so that he could leave his sick little clue? Or was this the work of someone else, someone whose motives I couldn’t even fathom right now?

   My hand closed over the tube. As much as I wanted to hurl it to the ground and stomp it to pieces, I forced myself to slide the lipstick into my jeans pocket. I had to get this to Ryan. He could confirm for sure that it was the same lipstick used to draw the runes on Lacey Lawrence. Then maybe we could track down what store the lipstick had come from and exactly who had bought it—

   In the distance, a car engine rumbled to life.