The Seventh Victim (35 page)

“The second and third victims did show bruising.”

“Especially around the ankles and wrists. Not this one.” He continued his external exam. When he began the vaginal exam, both Beck and Santos shifted uncomfortably.

“She wasn’t raped,” the doctor said.

“You’re sure?” Beck said.

“I’d say it’s been awhile since she had intercourse.”

“Why did he change his pattern?” Beck said.

“The level of violence with men like this usually escalates,” Santos said. “Chasing the thrill requires more and more violence to achieve an adrenaline fix.”

“So why scale back?” Santos said.

Tension clawed at the back of Beck’s head. “Hell if I know.”

Chapter 19

Friday, June 1, 11
AM

Collecting final portfolios and assisting with the student art show did not give Lara the luxury of hiding at home, so she’d risen early, walked Lincoln, and then the two of them had gone to the art department to assemble the works for the show. She’d called Danni several times, left messages, but had yet to speak to the girl. She thought about driving by the girl’s house, but decided against it. The kid had missed one optional lab. That was it. And kids skipped classes all the time.

“Transference,” Lara muttered as she stood on a chair in the gallery, hanging a watercolor. She’d been around enough psychologists to know that transference was about redirecting her own fears and worries onto someone else. It was easier to worry over Danni’s imaginary problems than her own extremely real ones.

The cell tucked in her back pocket rang. Irritated by the interruption, she finished centering the image before climbing down and checking the caller ID. It was Jonathan.

Brushing off her irritation, she smiled at Lincoln, who looked up at her mildly curious, and raised the phone to her ear. “Jonathan.”

“I keep thinking I’ll run into you at the gallery or school, but you’re not frequenting your regular haunts.”

“Crunch time,” she said, cradling the phone under her ear as she straightened a picture.

“I was hoping to take you to lunch.”

She studied the photo with a critical eye one last time and then stepped back. “What time is it?”

“It’s eleven thirty.”

“That late? I could have sworn I just ate breakfast.”

His chuckle rumbled through the phone. “You were like that when you lived in Seattle and worked for that designer. Always forgetting to eat. Always running behind. Sounds like you’ve finally come back to your old self.”

Awareness jostled through Lara’s mind. “Despite it all, I guess I have.”

“You’re not afraid.”

“I’m cautious, but I’m not going to stop living my life.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. So does this mean I can pick you up and take you to lunch?”

Her stomach rumbled. “I’ve got Lincoln and the student art show, so I’ll just grab a bite quick here at the school. Rain check?”

“Sounds like a pack of nabs and a Diet Coke.”

She turned and inspected a raku-glazed pot and a watercolor, both done by senior art students. “I’ve lived on both for long stretches.”

“Lara, take an hour and eat a real meal. Stop and smell the roses.”

She chuckled, and her stomach rumbled again. “Okay, fine. Sure. What time?”

“Why don’t we make it twelve noon? I’ll pick you up at the school.”

“How about one and I meet you? It’ll be easier with Lincoln.”

He hesitated. “Sure. I thought I’d grill at my house. That would give Lincoln a chance to run around outside.”

They agreed to meet in an hour and a half, and she rang off, tucked her phone in her back pocket. She was just climbing down from the ladder when she heard footsteps behind her. A low growl rumbled in Lincoln’s throat. Half expecting Beck, she turned with a slight smile on her face.

Instead of Beck she found Raines standing behind her.

“The exhibit looks nice.” He held out his hand to the dog and let him sniff, and when Lincoln’s hackles eased, he moved toward a black-and-white still of a thundercloud. “I’ll bet Danni took this picture.”

Mention of the girl’s name was unexpected and jarring. “How do you know Danni?”

“She waitresses at the River Diner. I’m a creature of habit, and I see her a lot. We struck up a few conversations, and she told me about her work. Is that hers?”

“Yes.”

“She’s good.”

Lara folded her arms over her chest. “Yes. I hope she sticks with it.”

“Me too. The kid deserves better than she’s gotten.”

Lara had sensed the darkness in Danni, so much like her own, but had never pried into her private life. “Is she okay? She uploaded her work, but I haven’t seen her in a couple of days.”

He nodded, keeping his gaze on Danni’s photo. “She is.”

Lara brushed a stray curl from her face. “What’s going on with her?”

“Trouble at home. But she’s settled now.”

“You know a lot about her.” He was a detail man who missed little.

“She’s a good kid. Reminds me of my daughter.”

Sadness crashed over her, washing away past resentments harbored toward the man. “Beck told me you lost your family. I’m sorry.”

A sigh shuddered through him as he faced her. “It was a long time ago.”

“Time doesn’t erase a loss like that.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Weariness hung heavy on his shoulders. For the first time she didn’t see him as the enemy, but a man who had lost so much. “Where is she?”

“I put her up in a hotel. She’s safer away from home.”

“I’ll check in on her. Look after her if she’ll let me.”

He studied her. “I always knew you were strong, a survivor, but I didn’t appreciate how strong you were until this last week. You’re not the lost soul I thought you were.”

“Thanks. I think. Did you just come to tell me about Danni?”

“That and a question.”

“Always a question.” No anger, just acceptance.

A hint of humor burned behind his gaze. “You can take the cop out of the job, but you can’t take the job out of the cop.”

“What do you want to ask?”

“One last question about Seattle, and then I’ll let it go.”

Her guard rose. “Okay.”

“If you’d not gotten the job in Seattle what would you have done?”

“I’d have come back to Austin. My grandmother owned a dress shop here, and I was going to work with her.”

“She was disappointed when you told her about the Seattle job.”

Lara folded her arms over her chest. “No. She was thrilled.”

“You kept up with most of your friends from back in the day in Seattle?”

“No.”

“What about Austin? You spent summers here, right?”

“I only had a couple of friends from my summers here. My cousin Cassidy and Jonathan.”

“I remember a Johnny visiting you in the hospital.”

“Good memory. Johnny did come up after my attack. Grandmother couldn’t travel so she asked him to come.”

He frowned. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Odd questions.”

The tension in his shoulders eased. “We cops are full of odd questions. Always trying to understand the facts.”

“So are you giving up on the case?”

“Not giving up, but I’ve got business in Seattle that I have to take care of.”

“When will you be back?”

“Don’t know. You take care of yourself.”

“Sure.”

She and Lincoln watched him leave. “I’ll never understand that man.”

Beck had been weeding through the old case files on the animals that had been mutilated or killed for ten Septembers in a row. He’d started with the most recent and worked his way back. Nothing of note in the recent years; however, a file dating back fifteen years contained the name Edna Bower. Lara’s grandmother.

“Damn,” he muttered as he sat straighter.

Lara’s grandmother had filled out a report saying her hound, Rex, had been killed on her property. The old dog had been stabbed at least twenty times, and his mutilated body strung from a tree. No one had ever been arrested for the crime.

Beck sat back in his chair. Fifteen years ago. Lara would have been fourteen and in early September would have just left Austin for the year.

What had she said in her session with Dr. Granger? She’d been hiking with Rex and her friend Johnny. Johnny. He dug through Raines’s old police files. The cop had noted that a Johnny Matthews had visited Lara in the hospital.

Santos appeared in Beck’s office just after one. The day’s heat had curled the edges of his short, dark hair and left a fine bead of sweat at his temples. “We finally got the security tapes from the university parking lot.”

Beck glanced up from files. “Does it show the kid slicing Lara’s tires?”

Santos handed Beck the CD. “Pop this in your computer and have a look.”

The tone of Santos’s voice had Beck raising his gaze. Without a word he took the CD and pushed into the drive on the side of his computer. The icon popped up and he double clicked on it.

“This was shot when most kids were in class. A little after noon. According to security this is when foot traffic is lowest in the lot.”

“This is the only camera on that lot?”

“There are four cameras on the lot. Three were disabled. This camera is difficult to see from the ground, and easy to miss.”

The color image was recorded from a camera that was across the lot. Leaves blocked the bottom part of the image, but he could see Lara’s dark truck parked near a shade tree about fifty yards from the camera. He kept his gaze on her truck. Seconds passed. And then there was the flicker of movement in the bottom left corner. A figure wearing a university hoodie moved toward the back tire of her truck and squatted. The flicker of a knife blade caught the sunlight seconds before the blade sliced into the tire.

“This isn’t Tim Gregory,” Beck said. “The frame is too slight.”

“Just wait. It gets better.”

The man twisted the knife in the tire and carefully closed the blade into its sheath before rising. He kept his head bowed, his hands clenched into fists as he watched the tire deflate.

Beck leaned forward, wishing he could reach into the computer, grab the guy by his jacket, and slam him into the hood of the truck. He flexed his fingers. “Turn around, you son of a bitch.”

Santos’s sharp gaze held the image. “Wait for it.”

The man stepped back from the car and turned his face toward the camera. The distance might have made it difficult to identify him if Beck didn’t immediately recognize him. “Son of a bitch.”

Santos’s grin had a feral edge. “Ain’t that a pisser?”

Darkness and fury flared. “Let’s pay him a visit.”

The next hour and a half flew as Lara cleaned up her supplies. She managed to run a brush through her hair before hustling Lincoln into her truck and driving to Jonathan’s. When she pulled up in front of Jonathan’s place, she checked her watch, grimacing when she realized she was ten minutes late, thanks to thick southbound traffic. She got out and Lincoln bounded out, barking, his tail perked as he sniffed and snorted at the air.

She hurried to the front door and rang it. His land was adjacent to hers, but distance between neighbors in this part of Texas was measured in miles not feet. Her house was a good ten miles from his.

His parents had built his house, but he’d completely remodeled the place. Not only had he put an addition on the back of the house, he’d gutted the kitchen, upgraded the plumbing and wiring, and added a pool to the backyard. The house’s style might have been casual ranch before the remodel, but now it was sleek layers of glass, wood pieces he’d created, and marble. Too modern for her tastes, but very Jonathan.

The front door snapped open. Jonathan wore khakis, a white button-down, and loafers. A gold wristwatch winked as he leaned casually on the doorjamb. “You look happy. Beaming almost.”

“Just glad to be working.”

He stepped aside, allowing her inside. “Good to see the light in your eyes. Good to see it.”

She turned and called to Lincoln, who came bounding up to the front porch. “Do you want him to stay outside?”

“I’ve got a nice air-conditioned utility room with a big chew stick waiting for him.”

She rubbed Lincoln between the ears. “Those are magic words for him.”

Minutes later Lincoln was settled with his big chew in the utility room, and she was sitting out on his back patio while the grill heated, sipping wine.

“Lots of veggies for you,” he said. He leaned back in the black wrought-iron chair, pleased with himself.

“A man after my own heart.”

“And brown rice, too.”

She swirled her wine. “You know all the summers I visited, I don’t think I ever visited your home.”

He shrugged. “I can’t believe that. You must have been here at some point.”

“I don’t think so. I only remember you at Grandma’s house.” An old memory flashed. “Your visits were always memorable because Grandma’s dog, Rex, barked a lot.”

He smiled. “That old hound never did like strangers.”

“He could bark.”

Jonathan sipped his wine. “I haven’t thought about Rex in years. Whatever happened to the dog?”

“Grandma said he ran off right after I left one summer.” The memory made her frown. “I always suspected that Grandma had him put down, but she swore he just ran away.”

“Happens.”

She’d spent many a summer feeding that old hound scraps from the table, walking him, and pouring out her feelings to him.

Shoving aside an abrupt sadness, she moved around the deck, which smelled of freshly cured wood. “You’re a true artisan, Jonathan. This woodwork is amazing.”

“Thanks. I do try.”

“So tell me about some of your latest projects.” Best to keep their conversation light and easy. She didn’t want Jonathan to assume that they’d ever be more than friends.

“I’ve got several big decks. Each will keep the crews and me busy for the next six months. I’ve also got several custom furniture sets I’m building. After that we shall see.”

She smoothed her hand over the railing. The soft browns of the wood grains jumped out. “So what is your secret to making the wood look so rich?”

“Tongue oil.”