The Seventh Victim

by Mary Burton

  “I’m just glad you are back in Austin. This is the city where you belong. Seattle wasn’t the place for you.”

  She set her glass down. “No, I guess in the end it wasn’t.”

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Grab your wine and let me show you.” He turned down the grill.

  She thought about her car. The front door. Getting Lincoln. Running. Even as her brain tried to reason with her terrified emotions.

  A tentative smile flickered at the edge of her lips, and she slowly followed him inside. Her brain worked double time to calm her fears almost making headway.

  He opened the door to a room off the den. “This is my den. Where I work on my designs. I’ve gotten so good at copying everyone else’s styles, but I do have ideas of my own. Have a look inside.”

  And she looked up.

  Hanging over his desk was the picture she’d taken in Seattle. The exact spot where she’d almost died.

  “My picture,” she whispered, her chest brutally tight.

  “It is a stunning piece,” he said. “The instant I saw it I knew I had to have it.”

  She stood motionless. “I didn’t think you liked Seattle.”

  “It’s not the city so much as the picture. It captures so many feelings.”

  Her stomach churned. “What kind of feelings?”

  “Hard to put into words. Power. Life. Survival. It says a lot to me.”

  She turned from him and the picture, suddenly unable to breathe. “I need to get some fresh air.”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  She hurried back to the front of the house and snatched up her purse. With trembling hands she fished for her keys, which had sunk to the bottom. Damn!

  He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Lara?”

  She flinched as if he’d touched her with fire. “I’m not feeling well. I better get Lincoln and go.”

  Strong fingers smoothed over her shoulders. “When I came to get you in Seattle, you were so beat up and broken.”

  She jerked forward, uncaring if he read her fear or not. She had to get out of here.

  He cocked his head. “What is it?”

  Lara backed toward the front door. “I’m going to be sick.”

  “I’ll take care of you.” He took a step toward her. “Remember when I picked you up from the hospital and took you to your apartment?”

  At the time she’d not thought about it, but she realized now he’d had no trouble finding her place. He’d moved with quiet confidence up the staircase of her apartment building. Still dazed, bruised, and battered, she’d muttered her apartment number, but he’d not noticed. She’d simply been grateful to him.

  “It just about broke me to see you like that,” he said.

  He had been kind. “You wanted me to pack a bag and come home to Austin.”

  “This is the safest place for you.”

  Raines had shown up at her apartment that night. He’d wanted to see how she was doing. At the time she’d resented the intrusion, but now wondered if he’d not saved her life. “You were mad at Detective Raines.”

  “The man had no sense of boundaries. I didn’t like the way he hounded you about your memory.”

  She dug deeper for her keys until fingertips brushed the metal key ring. She glanced back toward the utility room that held Lincoln. “I’ve got to go.”

  He cocked his head. “What’s going on with you, Lara? Something is bothering you.”

  Accusations of horrific crimes clawed at her. Why hadn’t she remembered him from Seattle? Get out of here. Find Beck. Beck would help her with this. “I’m not feeling well.”

  His gaze danced with glee. “It’s that picture, isn’t it? It has upset you.”

  “What?”

  “I shouldn’t have shown it to you. It’s brought back bad memories.” He searched her gaze. “Has it brought back memories?”

  Her heart thumped hard and fast in her chest. She thought about the dream. Memories pounded in her brain and cracked at the barriers that had kept them caged for so long.

  She remembered the stalker’s rough hands on her neck. The scent of lemons. The way he kept saying she belonged to him. “No. No it hasn’t brought back anything. I was so drugged. I doubt I’ll ever remember.” She swallowed. “It’s just that I’m suddenly not feeling well.”

  Brown eyes darkened. “You can lie down here.”

  Jonathan had rough hands. “I need to get Lincoln.” Again she thought about her car parked not more than fifty feet from where she stood now. “Let me get my pup, and I’ll call you in the morning and we can set up a new time.”

  He studied her. “I hate to let you go home alone when you’re not feeling well.”

  “I’ll be fine. Being at home always makes me feel better.”

  “I think you should stay.”

  “I don’t want to.” Without taking her eyes off Jonathan, she called, “Lincoln!” The dog didn’t make a sound. “Lincoln!” No bark. No sound. “Where is Lincoln?”

  “In the utility room.”

  She started down the hallway toward the room. “He isn’t barking. That’s not like him.”

  Jonathan moved in front of her, blocking her path. “I was sure after I picked you up from the hospital in Seattle that you’d come back to live in Austin. And then you just vanished.”

  Breath hitched in her throat as she worked her car keys between her fisted fingers. “Get out of my way, Jonathan. I want my dog.”

  He adjusted his stance to block her as she tried to sidestep him. “You should have let me take care of you.” His adult-to-child tone grated and terrified.

  “I can take care of myself.” She sidestepped him. “I need fresh air.”

  He grabbed her wrist, his hold firm and unbreakable. “You remember, don’t you?”

  She tried to jerk her hand free. “What?”

  Fingers manacled tighter. “Your memory is starting to come back.”

  The now-punishing grip triggered another memory flash.

  Cold, rough fingers on her neck, pressing, as a man said, “You belong to me.”

  “Let go of me, Jonathan.” Lincoln’s silence had her imagining terrible scenarios.

  “Not this time,” he said.

  She twisted her wrist, hoping he’d let her slip free, and when he didn’t, she swung her fist around, scraping his face with her car keys. “Let go!”

  He screamed and jerked her forward, sending her off balance and falling forward into his chest. Before she could pull back, he clamped his other hand on her neck. Blood oozed from the three deep scrapes on his face. He grabbed her keys from her hand and sent them skidding across the floor out of her reach. Seconds later, his hands were on her neck. “The drugs were supposed to make you easy to handle. And they did.”

  Choking for air, her hands flew up to his. She scraped and pulled but couldn’t release his grip.

  “But I gave you too much. You could barely focus. I needed you to see me, but you were too messed up.”

  How had she not seen it was him?

  He smiled. “I’ve been replaying that moment for seven years. Each time I imagine it, I see it so differently.” He moved his lips close to her ears. “Now when I relive it, I see you looking into my eyes, seeing me, as I choke all the life out of you.”

  His hot breath against her neck made her shudder. “Please.”

  He stroked a strand of hair from her eyes. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. All year I’d look forward to your visits. And when you were in town the world felt better. You were Persephone to my Hades. But then you’d leave, and I’d be so lost. So full of anger. Black September, I called it.” His eyes grew distant as if remembering those days. “Your grandmother lied to you. She knew what happened to Rex.” He leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips. “Oh, Lara, you should have heard his screams when I killed him.”

  Tears rolled down the side of
her face as she tried to twist free. Hate elbowed aside fear. Think, Lara, think!

  He loosened his hold. “There’s no reason to rush this. We have all the time in the world.”

  She gripped his fingers and tried to pry them loose, but found his hold unbreakable. Shifting tactics, she managed a smile. “Jonathan, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “There is no other way. There never has been.”

  “Let me go get Lincoln. We can talk later.”

  His gaze dropped to the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. “And let you go? No. Persephone must stay.”

  Keep him talking. “You killed the others?”

  “Yes.” He pulled her up and across the room until they reached the center of the living room. He nudged her forward. “Lift up the carpet.”

  “What?”

  “Do it.”

  She knelt down and lifted the carpet with trembling hands and discovered a trapdoor. The wood of the floor looked old, but the lock and hinges were new and well oiled.

  He knelt, wrapping his arms around her and whispering, “Each time I killed them, I was killing you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Why not just kill me?”

  “Anticipating a gift is always sweeter than the gift.” He looped his fingers through the latch and jerked open the door. Below was a dark black box. “When I put you in there, I’m going to shut the lid and then bring out that damn dog of yours. I want you to hear me kill him bit by bit.”

  Sickened, panicked, and furious, she jerked at his hold. “Fuck you!”

  He gripped a handful of her hair and jerked back until tears pooled in her eyes. He licked her cheek and then kissed her hard on the lips. “I dream about the night I fucked you over and over again.”

  Images of Beck ran through her head. How many times had he told her to be careful? Raines had warned her. And she’d repeatedly said that she could take care of herself. Her foolish bravado triggered a wave of nervous laughter.

  “What is so funny?” His tone was annoyed, confused.

  “Nothing is funny,” she rasped. She craned her neck, trying to ease his grip and widened her smile. “Nothing.”

  His hands released her neck and cupped her face. “Why are you laughing?” His eyes had grown black.

  She kept smiling, knowing her amusement clawed at him. “It’s all so ridiculous.”

  His face was inches from hers as his fingers bit deeper into her flesh. “What’s so funny?”

  The tender flesh of her neck ached, and she could feel the bruises rising. “My grandmother sending you to save me. Were you in Seattle when she called you?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Yes. I’d been at the airport ready to leave when my cell rang. She said you were panicked. Couldn’t remember. So I took a chance and went to see you.”

  He’d lurked in her hospital doorway when he’d first arrived. “I’d thought you were afraid of my bruises and the way I looked. You were afraid. Of me remembering.”

  Gently, he kissed her on the lips and slid his hands back to her neck. “And you didn’t.”

  But she must have remembered on some level because she’d never been able to shake the growing panic no matter how much anyone tried to soothe her. “You are pathetic.”

  His grip tightened more, and now she couldn’t breathe. “Bitch.”

  Outside she heard the crunch of tire against gravel. She didn’t have the breath to call out and prayed who had shown would save her. Mere seconds remained before she passed out and her brain died.

  God, save me.

  The front door slammed open and she heard her name. The rough voice belonged to Raines. He moved forward quickly ordering Jonathan to let her go.

  Jonathan, his gaze locked on Lara’s, squeezed tighter and tighter. “We die together.”

  Her vision blurred and then darkened. She’d be dead in seconds.

  And then there was the explosion of gunfire. Blood splattered her face. Jonathan jerked up, still gripping her neck before his fingers relaxed, and his dead weight collapsed on her body, pressing out what little air remained in her lungs.

  She reached for his hands and pried them free just as Raines freed her of his weight. She coughed, gagged, and sucked in air as she collapsed against the floor. She mustered what strength she could and rolled on her back to find Raines kneeling beside her.

  Raines’s expression was hard, unyielding. “Are you all right?”

  She raised her hands to her throat, now bruised and raw. Wild hysteria rose in her throat. “How? How did you know?”

  “I put the pieces together when we spoke last. But I had no proof so I’ve been following you. I knew he’d make a move soon. Today is June first. The anniversary.”

  Tears streamed down her face, and she began to tremble. “Why not go to the cops? To Beck?”

  He fished his phone out of his breast pocket. “I had no proof. Just pieces of a puzzle.”

  “Beck would have listened.”

  “Not without evidence.”

  He dialed 911 and waited for the operator. “This is Mike Raines.” He gave their address and told him there’d been a shooting. “And let Sergeant Beck know about this call. He’s going to want to see this.” He hung up.

  Lara clutched her throat and tried to let breath control the rising hysteria. The danger had passed and yet she wanted to scream.

  “It’s okay,” Raines said. “He’s gone.”

  She gaped at Jonathan’s face, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Blood oozed from the holes in his chest and pooled on the floor. She looked up at Raines, who moved toward her with his hand extended.

  She screamed.

  Chapter 20

  Friday, June 1, 4 PM

  Beck was seconds away from Jonathan’s house. Tension clawed at his gut, goading him to drive faster. Dust kicked up along the sides of the rural road.

  He’d been trying to reach Lara by her cell phone for the last half hour, but she’d not answered. He channeled his thoughts to the day he’d seen Jonathan talking to Lara at her gallery opening. She’d been relaxed around him. Her eyes had been bright, and she’d laughed often. And when Cassidy had called her and she’d turned to leave, she’d kissed him on the cheek. The kiss hadn’t appeared sexual in any way. In fact, his first thought had been that the guy was a relative, a cousin or brother. She might have thought of Jonathan as a brother, but he’d not seen her as a sister.

  He rifled through his memory, trying to scrounge more facts on the guy. Construction. High-end. Like an artist. Successful. Paltry facts that told him little about the man who had pulled out a knife and sliced Lara’s tire. If not for today’s tape, there’d have been no evidence to link him to Lara and possibly murder.

  When Beck arrived at Jonathan’s he found three cars in the driveway: a BMW, Lara’s dark truck, and a sedan with a rental sticker. Jonathan, Lara, and . . . Raines.

  Beck parked behind the BMW and hustled out of his car, unclipping his holster as he moved toward the house.

  Lara’s scream ricocheted from inside the house.

  Heart thundering in his chest, he pushed the front door open to find her standing rigid, her face as pale as ash, her gaze darting between Jonathan’s body and the gun in Raines’s hand.

  Beck drew his weapon, his attention one hundred percent on Raines. “Put the gun down.”

  Raines’s gaze hardened for an instant, but then he nodded and slowly eased the gun to the floor. “I shot Jonathan Matthews. Three shots to the chest. Dead before he hit the ground.”

  Beck’s gut twisted as he moved toward Raines and pulled cuffs from his belt. “Lara? Are you all right?”

  She looked at him, her eyes bloodshot and teary. “Yes.”

  Raines put his hands behind his back and waited patiently as Beck cuffed his hands. Ex-cop. Savior. Vigilante killer. Beck didn’t know what had driven Raines.

  He guided Raines to a spot at the end of the entryway so that there was distance between them. He called DPS for backup and then for the first
time he looked at Lara. She went straight to him, and he held her trembling body close as he kept a watchful eye on Raines. She clutched fistfuls of his shirt in her hands and relaxed into his body. Seconds passed and all he did was hold her.

  Finally, he found his voice under the emotion. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “I’m bruised, but I’m going to be fine.”

  Raines shrugged his shoulders. “He was strangling her when I arrived.”

  There’d be plenty of time later for details. For now he was simply grateful. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve got to get Lincoln,” Lara said. “He’s not made a sound, and I think Jonathan hurt him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Utility room.”

  He holstered his gun as old images of mutilated animals flashed. “Stay here. Let me go check on the animal.”

  “I want to come.”

  “Stay.” It was a direct command that allowed no argument.

  She stared at him, her terror-filled gaze knifing him. He turned and moved down the side hallway and opened the door. Lincoln lay on the floor as still as death. Beck crouched by the animal and touched his nose. “Lincoln,” he said.

  The dog opened a lazy eye as his big tail thumped gently against the floor.

  He patted the dog. “Looks like he drugged you both times.” And it made sense. Jonathan. Family friend. He would have known about the key under the pot at Lara’s house. “We’ll get you out of here.”

  Beck found Lara standing in the hallway, her arms wrapped around her waist.

  Raines stood ten feet behind her, watching. “I can hear the ambulance.”

  Beck nodded, but his gaze stayed on Lara. “Good.” He wrapped his arms around Lara, not caring if Raines or the world saw. “Lincoln is fine. He’s drugged but fine. He’s sleeping it off.”

  She gripped his shirt with her hands. “Jonathan drugged him.”

  He rubbed her back, hoping to soothe her trembling. “Part of his game. I’ll call a vet, but he looks like he’ll be fine. I want the paramedics to check you out.”

  “I’m fine,” she breathed against him. “He said he was going to kill Lincoln in front of me.”