Valley of the Dolls
"Daddy, daddy!" exclaims Alma excitedly, running down the three concrete steps it takes to get to the gravel driveway. Her feet crunch on the small stones.
"Hey, Pumpkin, look what Daddy's got you." with his free hand—the one not holding his briefcase—Mr. Baker pulls out a plastic doll from his car. "Here you go, Sweetie."
"What is that?" Mrs. Baker asks stiffly, taking a pull from her cigarette. As soon as she sees the doll, her mind takes in the caramel curls and wide green eyes. No, that doll is not the standard Crissy or Velvet doll manufactured at Ted's company. Ted and Alma continue as if they hadn't heard her.
"Oh, Daddy, I love it." She gives her father a big hug around the waste.
"Good, I made her especially for you." He takes his daughter's hand and leads her back to the house. As soon as they get inside, he lets go of her hand to place his hat and jacket on the appropriate hooks by the door, leaving his suitcase at the entrance. Shelly follows in after them.
"So, you got her a doll, I see." Shelly looks to her husband and then back to her daughter. Her daughter is holding the doll closely to her ear and giggling.
"Not only that," says Ted, "but it's custom-made. There is no other doll like it anywhere else in the world." He looks proud of himself, having produced the perfect gift for his daughter's birthday, however belated it may be. "So it is not just 'one of those dolls' from my factory." Ted unbuttons his shirt cuffs and moves to sit on the couch.
"So what are you going to name her?" Shelly asks her daughter, who by now is sitting—legs together—on the rug between the T.V. and the coffee table. Shelly moves to sit on the couch as well and snubs out her cigarette butt. Alma lifts her head toward her mother for a moment to regard her question, before returning her ear to the doll's mouth. She looks up smiling at her mother before speaking again.
"She says her name is Barbara." At this, both Shelly and Ted stiffen.
"I knew it," Shelly thinks. And when she looks over at her husband, he gives her a look of warning. Shelly takes out another cigarette. Maybe the smoke will help calm her nerves.
— —
Ring…ring…ring…
"Shelly speaking—Hello?" Shelly had a good idea as to who it is even before she answered the phone. In the background she can hear the sound of a baby crying.
"Hey, um, Shelly?" asks Henry over the phone. "Have you seen Barbara today?" and then to his baby. "Shhh…it's okay, Johnny Boy." Then back to her again. "I came back today to find her missing…the baby crying. Is there any chance she is over there at your place?"
"Um, no, sorry; I haven't seen the dear all day. I hope to God that nothing bad's happened to her." She waits to see if he believes her feigned ignorance; and through his veil of worry, he seems to.
"Okay…okay, if you see her, will you give me a ring, please?"
"Sure thing, Henry," She then thinks about the welfare of the baby, "Oh, and Henry…" she stops him before he can hang up the phone. "I'll be by tomorrow. I'll make you a casserole, just in case Barbie doesn't show. And I can watch little Johnny, too, while you are at work." She hopes that the use of his wife's nickname will calm him; and it seems to work.
"Thanks, Shells." He finally says. "I gotta go change the baby and put him to bed, so…" He seems to be unable to say the next word—not with his wife missing.
"Goodnight, Henry." And they both hang up.
By the next morning the next door house is swarming with coppers. Shelly is lugging her distraught daughter by the hand, holding the promised casserole in her other hand. Her daughter put up one heck of a tantrum when she told Alma that she couldn't bring her new doll with her.
Henry, having not gone to work yet, is standing on his front porch answering questions concerning his wife's disappearance, arms tightly wrapped around his one-year-old son, while some police search the inside of his home. A second cop steps outside to discuss his observations with the first and with Henry.
"There appears to be no signs of struggle, Mr. Winchester." The first cop takes a moment to scribble this down. "That, along with no signs of forced entry, are you sure that your wife was abducted?"
