The Seventh Victim

by Mary Burton

  He held her tight. His mind flashed to an image of Jonathan’s fingers around her throat. Christ, he’d almost lost her. “You’ll see the paramedics when they arrive.” A statement, not a request. “And if they say hospital, you go.”

  “Fine. I’m not up for an argument.”

  “Smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” The half dig was an intentional test to determine her mental state.

  A cock of her eyebrow told him the command rankled. “Watch it, pal.”

  Under all the bruises and trauma Lara was still there, ready to challenge. He hugged her tighter, aware Raines watched them closely. “Tell me what happened?”

  Her bravado wavered. She explained about lunch and then seeing the picture. “Having him so close smelling of lemons and then seeing the picture. I just knew.”

  “You mentioned lemons in Dr. Granger’s office.”

  “I asked him if he killed the others, and he said yes. He said they reminded him of me.” Her eyes were a chilling blue. “When he started strangling me, I couldn’t break his grip. I was starting to pass out when I heard the door open. It was Raines.”

  It galled Beck that he’d not been fast enough to save Lara. He guided Lara to a seat by the entryway and ordered her to stay. She nodded, leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes. “Raines, why were you here?”

  Raines leaned against the wall, staring at Jonathan’s body. “I’ve been watching Matthews for days.”

  “How did you fit the puzzle pieces together?”

  “I hacked into the gallery computer and pulled up the sale on the Seattle photo. I discovered the delivery site was a warehouse, which is where I planted a couple of cameras. I suspected the buyer was linked to the killings.”

  “And you saw Jonathan.”

  “He picked up his package yesterday.”

  “Buying a picture doesn’t make him the Strangler,” Beck said.

  Raines grinned. “I did some digging and found out he’d been flying between Austin and Seattle regularly in the months before Lara’s first attack. He was in Seattle the day she was attacked. I have the flight records.”

  Beck glanced back at the angry red scratches on Lara’s neck. Fresh fury surged. “I’m glad you put it together.”

  Raines looked pleased. “I’ve had a lot of years to think about this case. More sleepless nights than any cop should have. Knowing him now, I’d say he was in love with Lara and the dress symbolized marriage.”

  “And the penny?”

  Raines shrugged. “A lucky six pence in your shoe? The ones brides carry for luck. Hell, we might not ever have all the pieces.” He pushed away from the wall. “The penny is the one detail that nails him. That was a detail only the killer knew.”

  The explanation made sense. It wasn’t often that cases were solved and all the details wrapped up in a neat bow, but then most cases didn’t have a hound dog of an ex-cop sniffing after for nearly a decade.

  “I’ve tracked cases all over the country for the last seven years and none came up with the MO of this case. For whatever reason, he did not kill after Seattle. Maybe he liked the fact that the attack had left Lara broken.”

  “Lara is not broken,” Beck said with force.

  “I agree. She might have left Seattle battered, but she wasn’t broken. She’s a woman on top.” He rubbed his wrists under the cuffs. “And that had to eat at Jonathan’s gut.”

  Beck shoved out a breath. Like it or not, Raines had done him a big damn favor when he’d saved Lara. “You’re going to need a lawyer.”

  Raines relaxed as if he’d just finished a final exam or found out the cancer test was negative. “Got one.”

  Beck arched a brow. “Just in case?”

  Raines grinned. “That’s right.” In the distance, sirens blared, growing louder by the second. “Worry about Lara.”

  Beck tensed, uncomfortable with the ease with which Raines read him.

  Raines chuckled. “I remember a partner saying once that I stared at my wife like a starving man ogled steak.” His voice grew rough. “We were married eleven years and she could make me weak with just one look.” He hesitated and swallowed. “Hell of a woman. A lot like Lara. Strong. A survivor. No lost soul there.”

  The sirens stopped outside the house, and seconds later he heard uniforms coming through the front door. Beck apprised the officers of the situation and then led Lara out of the house. He took her straight to a waiting ambulance.

  “I need to check on Lincoln,” she said.

  “I’ll check on the damn dog,” Beck said. “Just sit.”

  He found Lincoln standing on wobbly feet, trying to take a step. He grabbed the dog’s collar. “Hang tight, partner. Let’s get you outside.” He led the animal to his own car, turned on the air-conditioning, and locked Lincoln inside, where he was safe.

  When Beck returned to the ambulance, the paramedic glanced up at Beck. “She needs to go to the hospital and have that throat x-rayed. I want to make sure there is no tissue damage or swelling that could get worse over time.”

  “Is that actually necessary?” Lara said.

  The paramedic glared at Lara. “Well, I could send you home, your throat could swell, and then we could hope that paramedics reached you before you died.”

  She sighed. “You made your point.”

  “I’ll drive her to the hospital,” Beck said.

  “You don’t have to do that.” Lara said. “I can drive myself.”

  The medic laughed. “Right. When pigs fly. She rides in the bay with me.”

  Beck nodded. “I’ll follow.”

  Color rose over her cheeks as she stood. “You’re doing it again.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. “What’s that?”

  Her throat burned. “Making a request that sounds like an order.”

  He leaned toward her a fraction. “It sounds like an order because it is an order.”

  “I don’t like orders.”

  “Today you do.”

  Four hours later, Lara sat on the gurney in the emergency room, teetering between boredom and irritation. There’d been no sign of Beck while she’d been with the doctors. She’d had a complete exam, an MRI, and a chest and throat X-ray. Now feeling bored, nervous, and a bit abandoned, Lara had trouble sitting still on the gurney. Her thoughts tumbled to Jonathan and the events of the day, which still just did not feel real. Jonathan. He’d killed all those women.

  She dug back in her memory, trying to remember the kid who had lived on the farm by her grandmother’s. He’d been quiet. He’d liked to build things. Always designing something in his sketchbook. He’d laughed a lot during those summers. He’d been her grandmother’s handyman, always willing to fix anything. She’d had no idea that such evil lurked behind the smile.

  Jonathan had followed her thousands of miles to Seattle, stalked her, and killed other women. As much as she replayed the facts, she couldn’t make sense of them.

  Purposeful footsteps clicking down the hallway had her easing back onto her bed. She hopped up on the gurney and folded her hands in her lap.

  The curtain slid back to reveal Dr. Granger. As always, she looked buttoned up and formal. Tight bun, trim skirt, white shirt, and sensible heels. Lara wondered if the doctor was always this buttoned up. When she was home alone did she ever drop her dirty clothes on the floor or drink from the juice carton?

  “How are you?” Dr. Granger said.

  Lara straightened and smoothed her hand over her flyaway hair. “Hanging tough.”

  Green eyes scrutinized. “Are you? It’s been quite a day.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. “An understatement, Doctor.”

  Dr. Granger sat in the metal chair by her bed. “You look restless.”

  “I want to get out of here. I want to go home to my dog.” I haven’t seen Beck since we arrived.

  “The police are going to take your statement.”

  “I’ve already recited my story to Beck and Santos.” She
shifted, wishing the pent-up energy in her body would ease.

  “Talk to me.”

  “My brain is a little jumbled right now. My good friend tried to kill me.”

  Dr. Granger frowned, staring but not speaking.

  Lara closed her eyes, willing the images of today from her mind. “I’ve not been in a hospital since Seattle. I’d forgotten the smells, the sounds, and the endless waiting.”

  “The doctors want to make sure you’re okay.”

  She picked at the edge of the white sheet on the gurney. “I feel fine.”

  “You were attacked.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t like last time. I remember more.”

  “Including Seattle.”

  “Pieces of it.”

  “Such as?”

  “How Jonathan’s hands felt and smelled when he grabbed me.” She closed her eyes. “I can hear his voice. He sounded exactly the same today. You shouldn’t have left me. He said that many times seven years ago and today.”

  “What are you feeling?”

  “I’m shaken. Tomorrow when it really sinks in I might be a mess, but for now I’m okay.” The restlessness churned and hammered into the shield she now hid behind. “As bad as today has been, it’s a relief to know that at least I know. Having all the pieces, no matter how ugly, is better than having nothing. I can get on with my life.”

  Dr. Granger adjusted her glasses. “Trauma doesn’t just vanish, Lara.”

  Her fingers curled into fists. “I’m not carrying this. I am not. I’ve been running for seven years, and I am not doing it anymore.”

  Dr. Granger released a sigh. “If you find letting go does not go as smoothly as you’d like, call me. I’m still happy to talk.”

  “Thanks.” She forced the tension from her shoulders. “And I’m sorry I’m such a bitch.”

  A smile softened her face. “You’re stressed. You’re not a bitch.”

  “If I’m not a bitch I’m doing a fair imitation of one.”

  Dr. Granger’s eyes warmed. “No worries.”

  “I don’t suppose you could get them to spring me early?”

  “Places like this have their own pace.” She rose. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dr. Granger departed, and Lara was left to sit once again. After fifteen minutes she glanced at the digital clock on the wall. Her throat felt fine. She’d had no trouble breathing. Could swallow just fine. And no Beck. But then why should he be here? The case was over. Solved. He didn’t need her anymore.

  “This is bullshit. I am out of here.”

  Just as she spoke the curtain to her room snapped back and a nurse in white scrubs appeared, pushing a wheelchair with a stack of clothes on it. She took one look at Lara reaching for her jeans and frowned. Familiar green eyes studied her.

  Lara’s fingers tightened around the denim. “I’ve been waiting for an hour. I’m about to jump out of my skin.”

  “The wait is over, Ms. Church. You’re good to go.”

  Lara stared at the woman. She was in her early fifties, had dark hair with just a hint of gray, and a slim figure much younger women would envy. “Do I know you?”

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Lara glanced at the name tag. ELAINA BECK. “You’re related to James Beck?”

  The nurse inspected a chart and made a note. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Your nephew?”

  She glanced up and smiled. “My son.”

  Lara lifted a brow. Then remembered Beck had said his mother had only been sixteen when he was born. “He looks a lot like you.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She glanced down at her clipboard again. “All I have to do is get you in this wheelchair, and you will be free to go.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. So I can get dressed.”

  “Yes.” There was a half smile, so similar to Beck’s, and then she vanished outside the curtains.

  Her hospital gown billowing around her, Lara rose gingerly from the bed. “Beck said he’d check on my dog. Have you heard from him?”

  “If Beck said he’d check on your dog, he will. Now as soon as you get dressed, I can get you out of here.” Mrs. Beck retreated, giving her privacy.

  “These aren’t the clothes I was wearing,” Lara said.

  “Yours were covered in blood. James got clean ones from your house.”

  That would be like Beck to take care of a small but important detail. It didn’t mean he thought any more of her. It just was a kindness Beck would do for anyone. “Thanks.”

  Lara slid into her underwear and dressed in the loose-fitting pants and shirt. She thought about her wallet and keys, still in her purse in her truck back at Jonathan’s. And ordering a cab would be tough without her cell phone, which was also in her purse. “Shit.”

  The word had barely hissed from her lips when the curtain drew back and Beck appeared. He stood tall and straight, and she’d never been happier to see anyone. She resisted the urge to lean into him and ask him for a hug. “Please tell me you are busting me out of here.”

  He removed his hat. “That is exactly what I’m doing.”

  “Is Lincoln okay?”

  “He’s at your house, and he’s fine.”

  “Thanks.” She had been so independent and self-reliant, and now she couldn’t even get home or take care of her dog. “I’d ask for a ride to my truck, but my keys are in my purse and that is at Jonathan’s house.” Tears of frustration burned her eyes and one slid down her cheek. Annoyed, she swiped it away. “Sorry. I’m out of sorts.”

  He moved toward her and took her hand in his. His palms were calloused. “Santos followed me in your truck to your house. Everything is waiting for you there.”

  She sighed. “Thank you. I just didn’t know how I was going to fix this.”

  He stroked her palm with his thumb. “All fixed.”

  Warmth spread through her body. “And you’re going to take me home?”

  “I am.”

  She squeezed his hand, needing more than was wise.

  Elaina Beck appeared, her gaze skittering to their clasped hands. “Get in that wheelchair, Ms. Church. I don’t want you fainting on my watch.”

  “I don’t need a wheelchair.”

  Mrs. Beck arched a brow. “You leave in the chair or you spend the night.”

  Lara stared into eyes as determined as her son’s. She sat in the chair, knowing Mrs. Beck would keep her here tonight.

  “Ready, Ms. Church?” Beck said.

  He stood tall and strong behind her, and the tension melted from her shoulders. “More than ready.”

  Beck leaned over, and kissed his mother on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

  His mother searched his gaze as if trying to peer into his mind. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Beck,” Lara said.

  The older woman patted her on the shoulder. “You’re very welcome.”

  Beck pushed her out the emergency room exit to his waiting dark Suburban. He locked the brake and took her elbow, helping her rise.

  “I’m not made of china, Beck.”

  “You look fragile enough to break,” he said.

  She smiled as she eased into the passenger seat. “I’m a tough old gal.”

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Minutes later he was behind the wheel, and they were heading outside of town. She leaned back in her seat. “How is Raines doing?”

  “He’s answering lots of questions. He’s going to be charged, but there’s a chance he could make bail.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can for him.”

  Beck’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I know.”

  “How did you get to us so fast? Raines had only just called nine-one-one.”

  “Santos pulled the college surveillance video of Jonathan slicing your tire.”

  “It wasn’t Tim?”

  “No.”

  She shook
her head, wondering if it was possible to honestly know anyone. “Have you found out anything more about Jonathan?”

  “We found six white dresses hanging in a closet.”

  “Six dresses. Six women.”

  “He also kept logs on the different women. The Book of Blair. The Book of Gretchen.”

  “The Book of Lara.”

  “Yes.”

  She dug trembling fingers through her hair. “He was always so nice.”

  A slight smile tipped the edge of his mouth. “Killers like him are experts at hiding their secrets and projecting to the world the right image.”

  “I never saw it coming.”

  “No one did until it was almost too late. Except Raines.” He pulled off the main road up the dirt driveway that wound back to her place. When they pulled up in the driveway she could hear Lincoln barking.

  Immediately, she opened her door and hurried to her front door. It was locked, but Beck quickly appeared at her side with her keys.

  “Thanks.” She twisted the key in the lock and opened the door. Lincoln jumped off the couch and bounded toward her, his tail wagging and his ears perked. She got down on her knees and rubbed him behind the ears as he licked her face.

  “Boy, did I miss you,” she said.

  She rose as Lincoln barked and wagged his tail. She moved to a cabinet where she kept chew sticks, reserved for when she was working on a deadline, and handed him one. He took the bone and immediately jumped up on the couch and settled into it.

  “He should be good for at least an hour,” Lara said. “Can I make you a coffee or a snack? I’m starving.”

  “I’ll make the coffee.”

  “Didn’t we already go through this once before?”

  “We did, and as I remember you lost that fight.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Lady, if you think I’m going to watch you cook after today, then you are dead wrong. Sit.”

  “I thought you could only cook steak and coffee?”

  He guided her to a kitchen chair. “I can make a sandwich.”

  “I’ve got pita bread, hummus, and veggies.”

  He shook his head. “No cold cuts?”

  “Sorry.”

  He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of the bar stool. “The things I have to do in the line of duty.”