The Seventh Victim

by Mary Burton

  Chapter 18

  Thursday, May 30, 12 PM

  By the time Lara drove into town her nerves had calmed and the panic had all but gone away. She’d called Dr. Granger and confirmed their one o’clock appointment. With an hour to kill, she’d swung by the school to check on the students at today’s open lab, being held in lieu of a final class.

  There were a half dozen kids milling around the classroom attached to the lab and more in the darkroom. She counted seven students and to her disappointment, Danni was not present.

  Danni had never missed a class or a chance to work in the darkroom. The kid was always early. Work done. Good, engaged questions. And now she was MIA.

  Remembering Danni’s drawn features yesterday, Lara quickly scanned her student list for Danni’s cell number. She dialed. It rang once and went straight to voice mail. “This is Danni. When the tone beeps, you know the drill.”

  “Danni, this is Lara Church. Just checking to make sure you’re okay. Call me.”

  She’s a kid, Lara reasoned. Bound to skip a class now that classes were wrapping in her high school. No doubt she had graduation practice or parties or whatever normal kids did when high school wrapped.

  She was feeling edgy so everyone else could join her. “Let’s see what you’ve done in the last week.”

  “Our projects aren’t due until tomorrow,” Wally complained. He stared at a collection of drying prints. His subject matter always focused on baseballs or footballs.

  “I want a final look. I might be able to offer some helpful tips.”

  She moved to the first table, where three girls focused on matting their black-and-whites. The first girl, Tiffany, had taken pictures of her front porch. “The play of shadows is nice.” The next two girls had taken pictures of their cars. Not original, but they’d put forth the effort. The next few students had completed varying degrees of work. Most were close to completing their portfolio, but all could use more work.

  Tim sat at the back table where Danni usually sat. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, his demeanor telegraphing a lack of interest. “Want to see my stuff?”

  She arched a brow. “You’ve been photographing?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. Working like a dog. He flipped open a portfolio to reveal a collection of stunning shots of the Texas State Capitol building.

  Carefully, Lara inspected the prints. “You took these?”

  “Sure did.”

  She lifted her gaze to him. “I got the impression you hadn’t done much.”

  He leaned forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the floor. “Told you, it’s easy to snap a few pics.”

  “Snap. A. Few. Pics?”

  “Wasn’t that hard.” He leaned forward. “I mean, come on, it’s photography.”

  “Whoever took these is a talented photographer.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “I’m having a hard time believing you took these.”

  “Believe it.”

  She shook her head as she gazed again at the portfolio.

  “What?”

  “I don’t believe you took these.”

  “Well, I did.” His voice, peppered with defiance and anger, raised a notch.

  “I’d like to see the negatives.”

  “I don’t got them with me.”

  “Then get them. I’d like to watch you develop one of them.”

  Tim glanced around the room at the other students, who were all staring at him now. He was a hothead, but smart enough to understand that confronting a teacher publicly wasn’t wise. He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  She studied him an extra beat and then shook her head. “How about tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  She lingered another twenty minutes, answering questions and making suggestions, and then she and Lincoln headed out so she could make her one o’clock with Dr. Granger.

  As she got to her truck, she tossed her bag in the seat and turned it on so the AC would cool the interior. Lincoln jumped in the front seat and went to sleep.

  She happened to glance back and realized that her back tire was flat. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Really?”

  She strode to the tire, squatted, and spotted the knife that had been driven into the tire. Tim or one of his buddies came to mind. “Damn.”

  Lara rubbed the back of her neck and rose. She shrugged off her jean jacket and reached for the metal box mounted to the back of her truck bed. She spun the dial of the combination lock and opened it, yanking out a jack and wheel wrench.

  If seven years on the road had taught her any lessons it was how to take care of herself and her car. She’d changed several tires over the years, and though she did not enjoy the task, she could do it.

  She moved to the cab and shut off the engine. “Sorry, Lincoln. Let’s get out and sit in the shade while I change the tire.”

  He yawned and jumped out of the truck and sauntered to a bit of shade. She pushed up her sleeves, popped off the hubcap, and placed her wheel wrench on the first lug nut, loosening it half a turn. When she’d loosened all the nuts a fine bead of sweat pooled down her back, and she could feel her temper ratcheting up.

  She slipped the jack under the frame, stood, and pumped the jack with her foot. The car rose slowly.

  “Looks like hot work.” Tim’s gleeful voice was right behind her. “Tough break.”

  Slowly she turned around. He stood there sipping on a cold soda, grinning.

  A pragmatic tone hid her anger. “Did you do this?”

  He shrugged. “Why would I do that?”

  Anger burned behind the ice. “Because you are an immature kid.”

  His brow knotted. “You deserve every bit of grief you get.”

  “Why? Because I care about doing a good job, and I don’t have use for slacker kids?”

  Lincoln picked up on the tone of her voice and rose. His hackles lifted and he growled.

  “And if your dog comes near me,” Tim said, “I’ll jab a knife in his throat.”

  The heat coupled with the flat tire had put her temper on simmer, but a threat against Lincoln was enough. She could never take Tim physically, but she could challenge his work to the dean. She moved to the front seat of her car and dug her cell phone out of her purse.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The police. And after that the dean.” She was just about to hit SEND when she felt a large hand clamp down on her shoulder.

  He squeezed hard, forcing her to cry out and drop the phone. He twisted her arm behind her back and shoved her against the truck. “If we had more privacy,” he breathed into her ear, “I’d fuck you right here and now so that the next time you saw me you’d be afraid.”

  Lincoln’s high-pitched bark cut across the lot, garnering some attention. When the dog lunged at Tim, the boy kicked at the dog. The intended blow skidded past the dog’s head.

  “Let me go.” She tried to twist around, but he increased the pressure on her arm.

  “Call your dog off, or I’ll break your fucking arm.”

  She drove her foot into his shin, and though he flinched, the impact wasn’t enough to make him release his hold. He twisted harder. She screamed. Lincoln bit at the back of Tim’s leg.

  Footsteps pounded behind them and in the next instant, Tim’s grip was broken. Circulation immediately rushed back into her arm, and she turned her fingers already curled into a fist.

  Beck stood behind her, his large hands twisting Tim’s arms behind his back. “Give me a reason, kid. Give me a reason.”

  The kid tried to break free, but Beck kicked his legs out from under him and sent the kid sprawling to the ground. Beck put his knee into Tim’s back and cuffed his hands behind his back.

  Beck rose and opened his cell phone as he stared at Lara. “You all right?”

  “I’m good.” She rubbed her arm, aware that if this encounter had gone on a little longer Tim would have broken her arm.

  Beck spoke to local police and requested a car
be sent to their location. Satisfied police would soon arrive, he re-clipped his phone to his belt and hefted Tim to his feet. “Get up.”

  “Christ, man, you’re hurting me.”

  Beck got right on the boy’s ear and whispered words she couldn’t hear. Judging by the look on Tim’s face, whatever Beck said wasn’t pleasant. Seconds later two police cars arrived and officers got out. Beck explained the situation and Tim was led off in cuffs.

  Lara sat under a tree with Lincoln. Against her will, her mind tripped back to the dream of the Strangler. A cold shiver slid over her body, puckering her skin with gooseflesh.

  As Beck approached she rose to her feet, doing her best to shield her emotions. She didn’t speak, fearing raw emotions would make her voice crack. Lincoln also rose.

  Beck scratched him between the ears. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

  “A student who can’t fail my class, or he’ll get kicked off the football team.”

  “I trust that he is failing.”

  “Hasn’t done a bit of work this semester, and today he turned in a stunning portfolio. I was going to challenge his work with the dean.”

  Beck glanced at the tire that still hadn’t been replaced. A chilling anger rumbled under his voice. “How’d his hands end up on you?”

  “He came up to me while I was changing the tire. I told him I was calling the police because I’d had it with his stunts.”

  Beck cursed under his breath. “He’s the one that wrote the note?”

  “I thought it was his sick idea of being funny. And I didn’t have strong proof it was him.” She shoved a shaking hand through her hair. “It stopped being funny when he cut my tire.”

  He rested tense hands on his hips. “It was never funny.”

  “Come to think of it, I haven’t laughed much.”

  She sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got a tire to change.” She checked her watch. “I’m late for my appointment with Dr. Granger.”

  “I’ll change it.” A firm, hard statement.

  “I am perfectly capable. I’ve changed enough tires in my day.”

  He shook his head, clearly annoyed by her stubbornness. “I’ll bet you have. But no woman is going to change a tire while I watch.”

  “You don’t have to stick around and watch.”

  He rolled up his sleeves. “You’ve not known me that long, so I’ll let that comment pass.”

  Fractured nerves pushed her toward rebellion. “Meaning?”

  He enunciated each word. “I don’t walk away from a job that’s unfinished.”

  Her smile held no humor. “You make me sound like a project.”

  Muttering unintelligible words under his breath, he tossed the flat tire in the truck bed, pulled the spare from the wheel well, and set it on the tire rim. Carefully, he screwed the bolts on and with the wrench, tightened each bolt so securely she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get it off the next time she had to change out the tire. He lowered the jack and put it, the flat tire, and the wrench in the back of the truck. “Good as new.”

  “Thanks.” She couldn’t begrudge him the kindness.

  “Any time.”

  He loomed over her, tall, so strong. His scent mingled with the heat, swirling around her and making it tough for her to think. “I have a rag in the back of the truck so you can clean the grease from your hands.”

  He glanced at his blackened fingertips. “Thanks.”

  She reached over the side of the bed and, stretching, flipped open the back hatch to retrieve wipes. She pulled several from the box and held them out to him. “That should do the job.”

  His fingers brushed hers. Calloused. Rough. “You seem pretty self-contained.”

  Carefully, she curled her tingling fingers into a fist at her side. “I learned to be, traveling around so much.”

  A frown deepened the lines around his eyes. “It couldn’t have been safe for you on the road.”

  “I never thought much about safety at first. I was too busy running.”

  “When did you start worrying? What changed your mind?”

  “My truck broke down in Tulsa. It was night and raining. I got out of the car and opened the hood hoping and praying I’d see what was wrong. As the rain pelted I tried to think back to when I first bought the truck. The former owner had warned me about loose battery wires. In desperation, I checked the battery wires, made sure they were tight and got back behind the wheel.” She’d been sick with worry. “It started on the first try.”

  “You were lucky.”

  A sigh escaped pursed lips. “I should have put more planning into my road trips. I made a point to learn about what made my truck tick and to travel by day.”

  With deliberate care he wiped the grease from his hands until no traces remained. A scowl added ferocity, as he tossed the soiled wipe in a nearby trash can. “A woman alone on the open road is trouble waiting to happen.”

  “I saved myself before.”

  A hard, lingering gaze held her. “You were lucky.”

  “I was smart and skilled.”

  He flexed his fingers. “All the trouble you can dream up doesn’t compare to the suffering lurking and waiting on the open road.”

  “You make it sound like we’re in the Middle Ages.”

  The grease from his hand was gone, but he wiped it again as if trying to erase a hard memory. “Remember I was a DPS officer for nearly a decade on the Texas roads.”

  Lara didn’t ask for war stories. The day’s heat sent droplets of sweat between her breasts. She imagined Beck’s fingers following the same path. She cleared her throat and shifted the conversation. “Have you identified the other victim?”

  “No.”

  “One of my students didn’t show today. I am worried about her. I know she drives I-35 a good bit. Her name is Danni Rome.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “She’s blond. Petite, dark eyes. Just shy of eighteen.”

  “It wasn’t her. The victim was blond, but she was older and tall.”

  Like the others. Like me. “Danni’s just a kid. Seventeen and finishing up high school. She is smart and great, but I get a bad vibe. Home must not be so good for her.”

  “I can ask around.”

  Color rose in her face. “The kid just missed one class. That’s hardly a cause to call the cops in.”

  “But you have a feeling.”

  “Let me give it some time. I’ll call her if I haven’t heard.” He stood so close she could feel the heat and energy from his body. She wanted to lean into that strength and absorb what she could. She didn’t.

  His gaze lingered, darkening. He wasn’t accustomed to being put off. “Okay.”

  “I have to hurry to Dr. Granger’s.” She checked her watch. “In fact, I’m late.”

  “I’d like to tag along. Listen in.”

  “Sure, why not. Maybe you’ll hear something when I start babbling.”

  The corner of his mouth hitched a notch. “You don’t babble.”

  “You know those crazy stage shows that involve people being hypnotized?” Humor acted as a relief valve.

  “I’ve seen a couple.”

  “I picture myself barking like a dog or standing straight like a tree.”

  The shadows behind his gaze lifted. “You did just fine the last time.”

  “And you’ll tell me if I act like a fool?”

  “Of course.” Despite the stern tone, she sensed teasing.

  Her guard dropped. “I just don’t like giving over control.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  That made her laugh. “I didn’t used to be so controlling. I used to be pretty fun-loving.”

  “I’d say you still are.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  The warmth behind the words soothed as it unsettled. She was part of the job for him, and she’d be wise to remember that. “Let’s get going.”

  “Sure.”


  She and Lincoln got in her car and they drove across town to Dr. Granger’s office. Beck was behind her the entire way. The sentinel. The guardian.

  She felt protected. It would be so easy to forget she was an asset, a witness, and embrace the sensation she’d known rarely in her life.

  When she got out of her car with Lincoln, Beck was there to guide her to the front entrance. He opened the door for her, and for a moment she hesitated. It had been a long time since anyone had opened a door for her.

  She walked into the offices with Lincoln and the security guard glanced sharply at her, but after Beck waved him off he stayed silent.

  The ride in the elevator felt like it lasted forever. With just her, the dog, and Beck there was barely enough room to move or breathe. Beck had a way of sucking in all the space’s air and energy. A human tornado. Powerful. Huge. Potentially destructive.

  The doors opened to a carpeted hallway, and they moved to glass doors that opened to a reception area. A quiet brunet with dark-rimmed glasses greeted them, and soon Lara was sitting in Dr. Granger’s office with a promise from the receptionist that the doctor would arrive soon.

  Lincoln settled down on the floor and closed his eyes.

  As Beck sat next to Lara his cell phone rang. He glanced at the number. “I’ve got to take this.”

  “Sure.” She smiled and moved to a bookshelf, hoping to give him a measure of privacy.

  He moved toward the window and faced the city skyline. Though his voice was low and controlled, she could not mistake his words. “So far he’s fine, but the doctors are worried, Steve. Mom wants you home to see him just in case.”

  There was silence as Beck listened to the other man on the line. Tension deepened the lines around his mouth with each passing second, and she couldn’t help but wonder who Steve was or what had happened. When he closed the phone and faced her she saw a menace that took her breath away. This was the face of a hunter. A warrior.

  “Everything all right?” she said.

  His gaze shifted to her deliberately. “Yes.”

  So tired of her own problems, she shifted her attention to his. “That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “So it is a problem.”