The Beast Within: Mended Souls #2

by Jacquie Biggar

  Her friend jumped out of the van, her hiking boots paired with cargo shorts, raising a little cloud of dust in the gravel parking lot. Construction on a new housing complex carried on behind them, a stark contrast to the blue of the Juan de Fuca Strait and the deep coastal forest across the bay. They’d chosen the location carefully, with the goal of showing the economic growth of the town. It was bad enough they had to report a murder here, they didn’t want to have a negative impact on the town’s tourism industry.

  “Listen, you and the boys should come stay with us for a while.” Sam sent a pointed look at the patrolman heading toward his unmarked police car. “It would be fun.”

  Julie smiled, warmed by the kindness of the offer. “Thanks, but you wouldn’t say that if you saw Dustin and Freddy’s bedrooms.” She leaned over and gave Sam a quick hug. “I thank my stars that I have you guys on my team.”

  Sam’s eyes were a little damp, but she shrugged it off with a grin, ever the tough girl. “Hey, we’re just tagging along waiting for you to get the Pulitzer.”

  Julie laughed. “You’re good for the ego, my friend. Don’t worry, when we win, you’ll be right up there with me. Even if it is in hiking boots.” They glanced down at Sam’s well-worn footwear.

  Rudy chimed in from the back of the van, “It would have to be, she’d wear those damn things to bed if she could.”

  Sam only smiled, well used to her hubby’s sarcasm. “You told me you thought it was sexy when I came to bed in my boots.”

  A deep red flush climbed the sides of his neck, though his eyes filled with a warm glow. “Oh, it was, darlin’, it was.”

  Julie turned away, ostensibly to give the lovebirds some space, but in reality it caused an ache inside she wasn’t sure how to handle. Visions of Connor filled her mind. His powerful body holding her close. The deepening intent from his mercurial gray eyes. His full lips.

  Now she was the one getting hot.

  She was fantasizing about a man. It was both new and strange. And edged in guilt.

  “We’ll see you back at the station,” Sam called, slamming the van doors.

  Julie waved over her shoulder and headed to her car, sitting all by its lonesome under the shade of a giant maple tree. Half an hour back to town if the traffic wasn’t too bad, a couple of hours’ work getting the story together, and she could go home and relax. Her mom and dad had been urging her to send the boys for a visit. She’d hesitated to pull them out of school so close to the end of the year, but with spring break starting next week maybe it would be a good time for them to go. Besides, she’d used the boys as a crutch for long enough. It wouldn’t hurt her to be alone for a couple of weeks.

  Before she could change her mind, Julie dug her cell phone out of her purse and speed-dialed her parents.

  “Julie, we were just speaking about you,” her mom’s familiar voice made Julie’s throat clench with emotion.

  “Hi, Mom. Are you telling tales, again?” Her mother was famous for sharing embarrassing stories about Julie’s childhood to her friends.

  “Of course not, darling. What do you take me for?” The muted masculine tones in the background told Julie her dad was home from his job as a building inspector. “Oh, John, I do not.”

  Julie grinned. These three-way conversations were as much a part of home as the Friday night meatloaf her mom always made, and Julie and her father always complained about.

  “Listen, I was wondering if your offer to take the kids was still standing?”

  Her mom squealed in delight, deafening Julie’s eardrum. “John, the boys are coming for a visit. Oh, my lord, there’s so much to do. I need to clean their rooms and do some baking. Maybe we can take them to the Space Science Centre and the museum. Oh, and the movies. We have to take them to the movies.” Her voice grew faint as she no doubt searched for her pad of paper and a pen. She kept notes for everything. It used to drive Julie crazy, but now that she was getting older, she saw the wisdom in her mother’s old-fashioned ways.

  Her dad came on the line and Julie’s heart swelled. “Hello, my girl. Are you coming home too? We miss you.”

  “Hi, Daddy. I miss you too, but I have a job now. I’ll book holidays and come see you later this summer, sound good?” It would be nice to go home. While they were settling into island life, Julie still missed Chicago and all her friends.

  “You bet, sugar. We’ll look forward to it. Here’s your mother. I’ll let you girls make the arrangements. We can’t wait to see the boys, I bet they’re growing like weeds.”

  Julie smiled through her tears. “They sure are. Dustin is almost as tall as I am now, and Freddy is coming up fast. They’ll be so excited, they love staying at Grandma and Papa’s house.”

  “And we love having them,” he answered, his voice a little choked. “Take care of yourself, honey. You’ll always be our little girl.”

  A few more words with her mom and Julie ended the connection, heart sore, but happy too. Whenever she felt down, all she had to do was think of her parents and she wasn’t lonely anymore.

  Relieved that she’d made the call, Julie started the car and pulled up to the highway, waiting for the traffic to slow so she could head for town. She couldn’t wait to share the news with her sons. They were going to be over the moon. Grandma and Papa always spoiled them rotten. She was a little worried because it would be their first plane ride on their own, but her dad had assured her there were attendants to watch over them during the flight, and he’d be at the gate when they landed. She had to give them room to grow, she knew that. But nothing in the parent handbook said she had to like it.

  The traffic was thinning so Julie flicked on her signal light, slid her sunglasses onto the end of her nose to guard against the punishing rays of the sun, and eased onto the pavement. She didn’t white-knuckle it as much as she had just after the accident, but there were still times when her nerves threatened to get the better of her.

  The muted roar of a diesel engine shifting gears had her glancing quickly into her rearview mirror. A semi was pulling onto the merge lane from the construction site, black smoke bellowing out of its chrome stacks like angry exclamation marks. She shivered, and was relieved when the police cruiser and a pickup passed him by to fall into line behind her. Now that she’d had a few days to get over her mad-on, Julie was secretly glad she had a bodyguard. The more she learned about the so-called ABC Killer, the more she prayed he was caught soon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The dumb bitch. She was stirring up fear with her stupid news reports. He had to be careful. No mistakes. He was tempted to follow her home and teach her a lesson about spreading lies. His momma had ground that rule into him in a way he’d never forget.

  He lifted his leg too fast and dropped the clutch, swearing when the cab bucked. The rear lights stayed off on the cruiser in front of him. He sighed his relief and rubbed away the ghost pains before trying to shift again—properly this time.

  He hadn’t noticed the cop escort until it was almost too late, he’d been so focused on his quarry. It could have been a fatal error. He needed to get off the island for a while. Let things cool down.

  The hunger hummed, an itch he could scratch but never eradicate. His momma had started it, the night she brought those men home. They’d hurt him. He’d cried for Momma to make it stop, too small to end it himself, but she’d just laid there on the sofa, her clothes half off and a white smear on her nose. They’d taken turns, those men, and all he could do was focus on his momma’s tattooed breast, bared for all to see, and plan his revenge.

  It took a few years, but he’d made it his business to find them, and he did. After meting out justice, he returned home and presented his momma proof of his vengeance—two severed left feet.

  She hadn’t understood.

  “What did you do?” she cried, her once pretty face twisted with disgust.

  He smiled, still riding high on his success. “I did what you taught me. Someone does something wrong, they gots to pay.” He sat
at the beat up old dining room table in their stuffy mobile home and stared at the half-finished puzzle spread across the surface. “I thought you’d be proud of me.”

  “Stupid child.” She clouted his head hard enough to make it spin. “You can’t hurt someone just because you feel like it.”

  A roar filled his ears. When it cleared he’d thrown her on the table, his hands around her throat. Her eyes were wide, pleading to be released. Garish red lips, the top one edged in a river of lines betraying years of hard living, panted for air he didn’t feel like giving her. The power was heady. His head swam with it. His fingers tightened, the skin bulging as he pinched her throat closed like a vise. Veins lifted and turned blue on her cheeks and forehead, fighting for the oxygen they’d been deprived of, and still he pressed. He squeezed until the Holy Ghost escaped. Her eyes turned milky and mouth went lax. Then he sat down and added another piece to the puzzle.

  A horn blared, and he blinked, the police cruiser in front of him coming back into focus. He eased up on the gas pedal, adding space between their vehicles. He gazed regretfully as the white Civic sped away.

  Another time. I’ll be back, bitch.

  Connor opened the door of the tattoo parlor, his gaze cataloging the dismal interior as he searched for Matt’s source. He found him perched on a stool bent over the shapely back of a young woman receiving a cherry blossom on her lower hip.

  “Marko?”

  Other than a slight tensing of the shoulders, the man showed no reaction. “Who wants to know?”

  “Detective Connor O’Rourke with the RCMP. We need to talk.” Connor rested his hand on the butt of his gun and waited.

  The young woman jumped, causing Marko to flinch. “Hold still,” he snapped. He sighed and sat back, lifting the magnifying glasses he’d been wearing to the top of his gray head. “I’ve got nothing to say.” He nudged the girl to get up.

  She scrambled to leave, towel slipping low on the back and riding high on the thighs.

  “Tough job,” Connor said, attempting some levity to gain the man’s confidence.

  “What do you want, man? I already told the cops everything I know.” He shoved the stool back, the rollers squeaking their annoyance, and strode over to a coffee maker with a pot of black sludge resting on the burner. He poured himself a shot, went to replace the carafe and must have second-guessed his rudeness to an officer because he held it up for Connor.

  Con took one look at the murky goo and shook his head. “No time, thanks. This isn’t about the other day. We have your report. I need to know what you were going to tell my partner, Matthew Roy.”

  Marko glared, motioning with his chin to the curtain hanging over the change room door. Connor nodded and suppressed his impatience until the woman stepped out in a sleek slip dress in iridescent green.

  “Same time next week?” she asked, her attention on Connor.

  “Yeah, I’ll get it finished then,” Marko said, his gaze mocking her obvious attempt at flirtation.

  They waited until she reluctantly left, then Marko locked the door and pulled the shades. He met Connor’s eyes and shrugged. “I don’t want no trouble.”

  Considering the length of the guy’s rap sheet, that ship had sailed, but Connor refrained from commenting. “Matt said you had some info about a tattoo we found on a murder victim?”

  Marko rubbed his jaw, then opened a panel previously hidden behind an inked sketch of Betty Boop riding a Harley, a saucy grin on her cherry red lips. He removed a drawing from the vault and handed it over. “This it?”

  A rush of excitement heated Connor’s veins. The sketch was a near perfect illustration of the brand. The only difference was a serpent slithering through the middle of a rectangular puzzle piece instead of the elongated S.

  “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

  Marko took a step back, his hands up in the classic stop motion. “Relax, man. I made it, okay? A client ordered it done, but then backed out, said he was scared of needles or some shit. He insisted on buying the print though, paid real good for it too.”

  Connor flicked the corner of the paper. “What’s this then?”

  Marko grinned, a sly look entering his wily green eyes. “Job security, man. Job security.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lucas sat in the Chicago park where he’d first come to the gut-wrenching realization that life as he’d known it was over. No more Hollywood. No more chances to see his name on blockbuster movie posters leading the pack of hungry wolves that made up the acting industry. No more thrill of success.

  He stared out across the verdant green grass to a pond in the distance, absently noting the baby ducks following their momma to the water’s edge. The last time he’d been here, autumn had cut a swathe through the park, leaving dead and decaying leaves in its wake.

  The period in between had passed in the blink of an eye, and at the same time, depressingly slow.

  Two young boys erupted onto the field, pushing and shoving and giggling as only young kids do. They had a soccer ball and spread out to pass it back and forth. They weren’t bad too for their ages, the ball skimming the ground effortlessly with dexterous kicks like a well-choreographed play. Suddenly the ball took off as though possessed, heading straight for the unsuspecting ducklings waddling docilely behind their mother.

  Lucas jumped to his feet, heart racing with the certain knowledge of impending death. He sent a silent, urgent message to the nearest child, but it was too late. There was no way to stop what was about to happen. His human body was too big, too slow, he’d never reach them in time.

  The momma duck must have picked up on the danger. She whirled around, assessed the threat, and barked an order that sent her babies scurrying into the water. Instead of following where she would have had hope of safety, she stood her ground, head high, hissing and snapping, determined to guard her young to the death. Stupid bird. She couldn’t beat a hard rubber ball. She’d be injured, possibly fatally. What would her babies do then?

  Desperate to end the unnecessary heroism of the bird, Lucas bounded across the lawn, arms flapping like a lunatic. The boys took one look at him and ran, crying, into the comforting arms of their mothers, who turned and hurried them away from the field.

  He didn’t give a shit. His only concern was with the family heading to a catastrophic ending—like Julie Crenshaw and her sons.

  The duck’s desperate bid to save her children became the woman in the van hurtling toward his car at what felt at the time like warp speed. He’d taken lives that day, including his own. Lucas couldn’t stand by and see it happen again.

  A familiar pain ripped through his shoulder blades, causing him to stumble. He regained his footing in time to take air, the wings he’d been gifted with upon his entry to Heaven’s door opening with a snap like a sail catching the breeze. He arrowed across the remaining distance, and with a fist resembling a mallet, sent the ball spiraling into the tree tops far across the field.

  The duck squawked, apparently not impressed with his celestial beauty, and waddled away to join her young. Lucas stared, nonplussed. Then the absurdity hit him and he chuckled. Once started he couldn’t seem to stop and tears rolled down his cheeks. Dead, and the best he could do was catch shit from a bird.

  “Hey, buddy. Long time no see.”

  The voice of his childhood friend startled him. Lucas swung around and brushed the signs of his weakness away. Scott Anderson stood in a patch of sunlight, his blond hair and white smile so bright it hurt the eyes.

  Lucas swayed, overcome by a mixture of sorrow and love for this man who was the brother he’d never had. He stepped into his buddy’s arms and held tight, swallowing down the sappy words building in his throat.

  Just shy of awkward, he leaned back, hands on Scott’s shoulders to get a good look at his face. He seemed happy, relaxed. Oddly, his happiness bothered Lucas. “What are you doing here?”

  Scott’s brows drew together. “I come here all the time, bro. This was the only place
I figured I might run into you. Looks like I was right. Again.” He winked and feinted with a light punch that bounced off Lucas’ stomach.

  Lucas calmed. He should be glad his friend was doing well. Moving on.

  Life was for living, that was their slogan.

  It wasn’t Scott’s fault Lucas was spinning his wheels with no idea where he was going. What he should be doing. He’d lived his entire life with the single-minded goal to succeed. Now, when he should be at peace, he was floundering.

  “How have you been?” He hesitated. “I’ve… missed you.”

  Scott gave him a one armed man-hug and they started across the grass toward the gazebo. Lucas grinned, remembering the stunned look on his friend’s face when he’d materialized as an angel and scared the shit out of some teens who’d set their sights on the mourning movie star.

  “Remember those kids?” he said, pointing toward the shelter, glowing a soft white in the afternoon light.

  Scott laughed. “Boy, do I. They practically left skid marks getting away that night.”

  They strode on in silence, the awkwardness returning.

  What was the matter with him? He should be walking on air right now. His buddy was here. And better yet, he could actually see him and talk to him. Lucas wasn’t alone any more.

  “Are you still seeing the ME?” he asked, determined to overcome this… this jealousy burning a hole in his gut.

  “Yeah, I am,” Scott answered, his gaze going all moony-eyed. “I think she’s the one, buddy. I’m going to ask her to marry me.” He stopped and grabbed Lucas’ arm. “I wished you were here. I’ve been praying for you to come. I want you to be my best man.”

  He swallowed hard and swore under his breath. He didn’t deserve this man for a friend. Here he’d been, feeling sorry for himself while Scott had been dreaming the impossible.

  “Fuck, man, you know I would,” he ground out, teeth clenched around the pain.