The Seventh Victim

by Mary Burton

  Lara studied the woman’s face for any signs of stress or deception. Finding none, the ribbons of fear binding her chest eased. “Wake up?”

  “You can come back and see him.”

  Lara hurried to follow. She didn’t invite Beck back, but he followed as if he had every right to be there. The doctor pushed through a swinging door, which led to an exam room. Lincoln lay on the stainless table. His eyes were half open, and he was panting a little. An IV ran from his front leg to a clear bag. When she lowered her face to his and spoke his name, his tail thumped awkwardly against the table.

  “I think he was drugged, not poisoned,” Dr. O’Neil said.

  “Drugged with what?” Beck said.

  “I don’t know. But because he’s such a big dog he was able to metabolize the drug. If he’d been ten pounds lighter it might have been too much for him.”

  She stroked Lincoln’s head. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “I believe he’ll be just fine. The heat did not do him any favors, but I’m pushing liquids now. I’d like to hold on to him for a couple of hours and make sure he’s fully awake and hydrated, but he should be good to go. And when you get him home let him drink lots of water. He’ll want it.”

  A wave of relief washed over her, and the tears she’d been holding back spilled down her cheeks. “Thanks, Dr. O’Neil.”

  The doctor smiled. “It’s nice to have a happy ending today.”

  She swiped away the tear, mindful of Beck’s gaze on her. “Can I stay with him?”

  The doctor frowned. “I’d like to put him in a crate. He’ll be safer and can wake up at his own pace.”

  “Okay. I can wait out front. And when he’s ready I’ll take him home.”

  Dr. O’Neil glanced at Beck. “It’s going to be a couple of hours. Maybe you’d like to run an errand.”

  “I’ll wait,” Lara said.

  Beck shook his head. “We’ll go out and have an early dinner.”

  Lara stiffened. “I’m not leaving.”

  Beck met the doctor’s concerned gaze. “Doc, is Ms. Church gonna do Lincoln a bit of good sitting here making herself sick with worry?”

  “Not a bit of good. Get some fresh air, Ms. Church. We’ll take good care of your baby.”

  Lara finally conceded and allowed Beck to lead her outside. The heat of the day proved a welcome relief to the chill in her bones.

  Not sure what to do, Lara glanced around. It would be too hot to sit in her truck, but there had to be a mall or a fast-food place around here somewhere.

  Beck made the decision. “My car is right here. I know a place that makes the best enchiladas.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  His muscles bunched. “You are pale and the circles under your eyes look like bruises. A meal will do you good.”

  “This is my fault,” she whispered. “If I hadn’t talked to Vera . . .”

  He frowned. “You did not cause this, so do not blame yourself.”

  “Who would do this to an animal?” More tears threatened.

  The furrows in his brow deepened. “I just hope I can get my hands on ’em.”

  Gratitude washed over her. “Thanks.”

  His expression softened a fraction. “Now you must eat.”

  “Really, I’m fine.” The rush of adrenaline had ebbed, leaving a clear path for exhaustion to take over.

  He cupped her elbow in his hand and walked with her toward a black SUV. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  Her skin warmed at his touch. “I ate lunch yesterday, but then I went into the darkroom and I meant to eat again but forgot. And then I went into town and bought groceries.” She thought about the bags on the floorboard of her truck and the cold items she stowed in the cooler. “God, my groceries are still in the truck. Even in the cooler the cold items won’t last.”

  He opened the passenger-side door to his car. “Wait here and give me your keys.”

  She complied and slumped back. Her mind raced as she replayed the scene over and over. Who could have done this?

  Beck returned, startling her. He opened the driver’s-side door to his car and slid into the seat. “The vet has a refrigerator and they are stowing your cold goods.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And you need food.”

  He started the engine and they were blending into traffic. His car reminded her more of a command center with its computer between their seats, a printer, maps jammed in the side door, and a GPS that he quickly shut off when it started issuing orders.

  The restaurant he chose was a small adobe-style place on the side of the road. If she’d been driving she’d have gone right past it, never dreaming that it would be a place to eat. Beck parked his SUV in the front of the restaurant and got out. She quickly unfastened her seat belt and got out, not expecting him to open her door.

  He met her at her side of the car and closed her door. “It’s not much to look at, but the food is good.”

  She’d always liked Mexican food, but it wasn’t until she moved to Texas as an adult that she’d experienced authentic Mexican fare.

  They moved out of the heat into seventy-degree temps and up to a counter that had no menu posted.

  A young, wiry boy behind the register grinned at Beck. “Mama is gonna be sorry that she missed you. She says you don’t come by enough.”

  “I got no good excuses for your mama. But I’ll be sure to do better.” Beck nodded. “Manny, this is Lara. And she’s mighty hungry.”

  The boy nodded. “Should I get your usual times two?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll take the usual without meat,” Lara said.

  Beck raised an amused brow. “You don’t eat meat?”

  It was a concept that often didn’t fly well in Texas. “No. But I will eat cheese.”

  He shook his head. “Manny, you heard the lady.”

  Lara didn’t know what the usual entailed, but the place smelled of cumin, stewed tomatoes, and pepper. And if it didn’t have meat she’d be fine. She reached in her purse for her wallet, expecting to split the tab.

  Beck shook his head. “Your money is no good here.”

  She continued to count out bills. “I can pay for myself.”

  “I bet you can. But you won’t be doing it here today with me standing at your side. Manny, if you take her money I’m gonna arrest you.”

  Manny laughed. “Yes, sir.”

  Annoyed, Lara tried to hand her bills to Manny, who would not touch them. Finally, she tucked them back in her wallet. “Don’t you think that’s a little old-fashioned? People split the bills all the time.”

  “And if you were a man I’d agree. But I’ve never split a bill with a lady, and I never will.”

  “You have got to be kidding.” Lara adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder.

  He handed the amused kid a twenty. “There are three things I never kid about. The first two are food and good manners.” He shoved his wallet back in his back pocket. “Keep what’s left for yourself, Manny.”

  “Thanks, Beck.”

  He guided her to a table and they sat. Seconds later the boy brought them two glasses of fresh lemonade and a basket of freshly made chips and salsa.

  Lara drank deeply from her lemonade; she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. “That’s good. Thank you.”

  “Best in Texas. And you are welcome.”

  She traced the line of condensation with her fingertip. “So what’s the third thing you never kid about?”

  He grinned. “Don’t believe I know you well enough to tell you about that one.”

  The sensuality lingering behind the words sent a rush of heat rising up her face. She sipped her drink. “You come here often?”

  “Been coming here since I was a kid. Manny’s older brother and I used to run together when we were kids. We were hell on wheels.”

  “I can’t imagine you causing any trouble. I picture you born with that star on your chest.”

  He laughed. “Far from
it. I was raised in east Austin.”

  “Near the river?”

  “Yes.” His eyes narrowed and then he nodded. “You said you grew up in the area.”

  “I visited Austin when I was a kid during the summer. The house I live in now belonged to my grandmother. She left it to me in her will.”

  “Did you enjoy your Texas summers?”

  “I did. Cassidy and I were like sisters, especially after her mom died.”

  “How’d her mother pass?”

  Lara released a slow breath. “Suicide. She shot herself.”

  His gaze sharpened. “That had to have been rough.”

  “It was awful. Cassidy and her mom were very close and she was devastated. I tried to help, but I wasn’t so close to my own mother so it was hard for me to ever find the right words.”

  Under his direct gaze, this close, she found her unease rising. “You got that cop expression happening again.”

  He sat back in his chair and made an effort to relax. “Do I?”

  “Yeah.”

  A wry grin tipped the edge of his mouth. “I suppose I never really leave the job behind.”

  She shifted in her seat. “So what did you and Manny’s brother do to stir up trouble?”

  “Typical trouble teenaged boys find. General raising hell.”

  “And what is that?”

  He chuckled. “Let’s just say we gave our mamas a good bit of gray hair.”

  He was just as unwilling to talk about himself as she was herself. “So what changed you?”

  He sipped his lemonade and carefully set his glass down. “Finally grew up, I suppose.”

  Manny arrived with two steaming plates of food. Tamales, rice, beans, avocadoes, and fresh salsa filled the turquoise plate. The queso fresco cheese looked like melted velvet. “This looks wonderful.”

  Manny’s chest puffed with pride. “It’ll taste better than it looks.”

  “Thanks,” Beck said. “And tell your mama I said hi.”

  “Sure thing, Beck.”

  Beck nodded. “Dig in. Best food you’ll ever eat.”

  She took her first bite and savored the warm blend of spices and fresh food. If she’d been alone she’d have closed her eyes and savored the moment, but with Beck so close she did her best to keep her expression neutral. He might be all kind and nice, but she understood that under the aw shucks veneer he was driven steel. “This is wonderful.”

  He loaded his fork. “I’d eat here every day if I could. I’m surprised you never heard about this place seeing as you’re part Texan.”

  The jab had her smiling. “My grandmother was a great cook, and we ate in almost all the time. As a kid I’d beg to go to a fast-food joint, but she’d never allow it unless it was my birthday. Looking back I can see what a dope I was as a kid.”

  “My mother was either working or going to school. Home-cooked fare was rare. But Manny’s mom kept me well fed.”

  The glimpse into his past tweaked her curiosity. Though tempted to dig deeper, she resisted. As nice as he might appear, he wasn’t her friend.

  They ate in silence for a time. The food was good and eased some of her tension. She was far hungrier than she’d realized and found her senses and nerves stabilizing with a full belly.

  “So is the house the reason you came back to Austin?” Beck said.

  “Pretty much.” She wiped her hands with a yellow paper napkin.

  He sat back in his seat and regarded her closely. “You like it here?”

  “I did.” She frowned. “I’d honestly thought the past was done, and I could truly start living again. I shouldn’t have stirred up old news.”

  A silence settled between them.

  “There’s a Dr. Jo Granger who consults with DPS and the Rangers. She is good, Lara. She could help you remember.”

  She shook her head. “There are no memories.”

  “You need to talk to her.” His clipped tone told her he didn’t like hearing no.

  Tough. She wasn’t playing his game just because he could play nice. “All I need to do is get my dog. Can we go now?”

  He reached for his hat, but the furrow in his brow deepened. “I’ll ride out with you to your cabin and have a look around. Someone got into your place, and I’d sure like to know how.”

  If it were just her, she’d have told him not to bother, but she couldn’t risk someone else hurting Lincoln again. “Okay.”

  He drove her back to the vet hospital, where she paid a hefty vet bill that maxed out her credit card and then collected her groceries and a groggy but tail-wagging shepherd. He walked out to her truck like a sailor who’d had too many cheap whiskeys on shore leave. With a boost from Beck, the dog hopped into the front seat of her truck, licked her on the hand, and promptly fell back to sleep.

  Beck touched the tip of his hat. “Lead the way, Ms. Church.”

  “Okay.” She slid behind the wheel, patted Lincoln on the head, and headed back south. She barely remembered the harried ride north just hours ago. It had passed in a blink. The return trip took forever. Likely because she was so conscious of Beck’s black SUV trailing behind her, moving in and out of traffic as she did.

  It was as disconcerting to have Beck close as it was comforting. She might not like the guy, who could be a hard-ass, but he’d projected genuine concern when he showed up at the vet clinic.

  “You can stop right there, Lara Church.” She tightened her hands on the wheel. “He is all about this case. You are a means to an end. So do not read into this what is not there.”

  The sound of her voice had Lincoln raising his head and yawning.

  She patted him on the head. “We’re almost home.”

  A half hour later she parked in front of her cabin. By this time, Lincoln was awake, snorting and raising his head as she parked. Seeing home, he wagged his tail and barked.

  She hurried around to the passenger side as Beck’s SUV parked behind her. She opened the door and the shepherd jumped down. He wobbled a step or two and then took off toward the edge of the woods, where he promptly raised his leg and peed.

  As the dog sniffed and rooted through the woods she moved to the front door.

  Beck cut her off. “Before you open that door, take a moment to look around the place and see if anything is out of place.”

  She turned, key in hand, to find him standing at the base of the porch, his hand resting casually on his gun. The brim of his white hat angled just a bit. “What should I look for?”

  “Whatever doesn’t fit or feel right. Come on down here and just look.”

  She moved back down the stairs as he eased back a step. Her gaze traveled over her home. No broken windows. No overturned pots. No marks. “It’s the same.”

  His sunglasses tossed back her reflection. “Do you keep a spare key hidden around here?”

  “I do.”

  He frowned. “Show me.”

  Around the side of the house at the back patio she lifted an urn filled with withered flowers and removed a key. “It’s right where I left it.”

  “Anybody know about that key?” The rough edge had returned to his voice.

  She dropped the key in his outstretched palm. “No. I mean, I never told anybody.”

  A look filled with disapproval settled as he turned the key over in his hand. “How long has it been there?”

  “I don’t know. My grandmother used to keep a key there.” She held the gold key in her hands. “This key is new. I had the locks replaced when I moved in.”

  “Why take the time to put in new locks when you leave a key outside?”

  Color warmed her cheeks. “Because if I get locked out, which has been known to happen, I have no one to call. And seeing as Lincoln doesn’t have pockets, I thought it wise to keep a key hidden.”

  He rested his hands on his hips. “Not smart.”

  “You’re right. Not so smart. But a necessary evil.”

  “Pocket that key now.” His fingers brushed hers when he handed the key to her. />
  She clenched her fist over it. “What if I get locked out?”

  “Then call me. I’ll get you inside.”

  He said it as if he meant it. “I’m not calling you if I get locked out. That’s crazy.”

  He leaned forward a fraction. “What’s crazy about it?”

  “If you live in Austin then it means you’re a good half hour away.”

  He grinned. “This is Texas, Ms. Church. A half hour is just around the block for us.”

  Dependence was a slippery slope. And dependence on a man who’d already stated his murder investigation trumped her wishes was foolish. “Still.”

  “Still nothing.” He looked around as if the matter had been decided. “Let’s have a look inside?”

  It would have been nice to brush him off, but if someone had gotten into her house before, they could have returned while she was at the hospital.

  She unlocked the back door, but he moved in front of her and entered the house first. A flick of his thumb and the lights clicked on. His right hand rested on his gun.

  She followed. The cool interior was a welcome change from the heat, but it did little to soothe the tightness in her belly.

  He pocketed his sunglasses and let his gaze scan the room. As he searched for predators, she spotted a shirt she’d tossed on the floor, a nightgown she’d discarded when she dressed in the middle of the room yesterday morning, and a half dozen cups filled with varying levels of tea. She started to collect the cups and put them in the kitchen sink.

  He checked windows, tested the front door lock with his hand, and then strolled down the hallway toward her bedroom. Images of her unmade bed had her wishing she cared more about house chores.

  As Beck moved through the house he moved slowly, taking in every detail of the home’s interior: a stack of magazines on a dusty coffee table, a casually tossed jean jacket on a cloth couch covered with a flowered quilt, hiking shoes covered in dust and mud. The walls had once been covered in photos, but the images were gone, leaving behind their shadowy outline on the wall.

  “Why take the pictures down, Lara?”

  Her name sounded rougher when he spoke it. “Old family pictures of my mother and my aunt.” They’d been smiling, young and happy.