by Geri Foster
David reached over and grabbed him by the scuff of his dirty T-shirt, yanking him to his feet. “Oh, I’ll get something out of you. It may be blood and guts, but that’ll suit me just fine. You see, I have a little girl and she means the world to me. Ridding the world of someone like you, I’d be doing everyone a favor.” Austin pulled out his gun and cocked the trigger. “I can blow your f-ing brains out right now and not blink. Like you said, I wouldn’t be doing anything I regretted either.”
Lincoln moved closer. “You’d be smart to talk.” He looked at David and saw the anger and the torment. “He really does have a daughter, and he loves her to death.” Lincoln pointed to Mia. “Her younger sister was kidnapped twenty years ago. They found her grave two years later. It destroyed her family and her life.”
“You can’t make me say anything. And I won’t admit to nothing.”
“Okay,” Lucas said calmly. “Put him in a cell and leave him there until he talks.”
David stood. “That would be my pleasure.”
“Y’all ain’t locking me up nowhere. I ain’t going to be behind bars. You can’t prove I did anything, and until those sneakers come back with something that belongs to me on them, you ain’t got a thing on me.”
Lucas nodded. “You’re right. We don’t have anything on you right now. Except that you went into a trailer where there was a pair of little girl shoes. Any judge on the bench is going to agree that’s a rarity. I bet he’d let us keep you indefinitely.” Lucas looked at Austin. “Isn’t your lab backed up quite a bit?” He took his handcuffs out. “We could probably keep you locked up for three or four months.”
The man they had captured jumped to his feet, his face red, his eyes bulging. “I ain’t going to be locked up behind no bars.”
Lincoln propped his foot on the chair and leaned on his knee. “Then you’d better start talking, because that’d your future.” He pointed toward the jail. “It’s dark back there. Cold and lonely. Most of the time, it’s absolute silence. No radio, no TV, no way to communicate.” Lincoln shivered. “Spooky.”
“I don’t want to be locked up.”
Austin leaned closer. “Then my advice for you is to start talking. And talk fast, because my patience is running out. I’m ready to leave here and let the local authorities do whatever they want with you. Hell, if you disappear and we never hear from you again, I don’t care. In my opinion, you deserve to die, and I wouldn’t be unhappy to be the man that does it.”
“It ain’t me you want.”
David took a chair, spun it around, and straddled it. “We know that. Let’s start with your name. Who are you?”
The prisoner hesitated for a moment, his eyes stopping on everyone in the room. Fear dripped off him like sweat in the sauna. He knew he had no place to run.
“Floyd Becker.”
David continued the questioning. “Okay, Floyd Becker, tell us about yourself.”
The prisoner glanced away. “There ain’t much to say.”
Lincoln leaned down and stared the man in the eyes. “I bet the last dime in my pocket that you just got out of the pen. What were you in for?”
Mia chuckled. “He does smell like a con, doesn’t he?”
Austin agreed. “Yeah. It takes them a while to get rid of that stench. The one that smells like human waste mixed with bad alcohol.”
“I was only there for two months. The law tried, but they couldn’t pin nothing on me. I didn’t leave a damn thing behind.”
“What did they try to put you in jail for?” Mia asked. “What did you do? What roused their suspicion that you were breaking the law?”
“Nothing,” Becker claimed. “I was just walking down the street. They pulled up beside me in their squad car and picked me up. Some man said he saw me trying to break into the house next door. He didn’t see nothing.”
A deputy knocked on the door then stepped inside. His face looked serious, pale, and ghostly. “Can I speak to all of you out here, please?”
* * *
Mia followed the men, staying close to Lincoln. When he glanced down at her, she saw the challenging glare he tossed back at the man they had picked up at the trailer.
“Do you think this is our guy?” Mia whispered. “Is it him?”
“I think he’s the one that’s been tossing out the bodies. But he’s not our guy from twenty years ago. My gut tells me he knows who he is and, somehow, they’re connected. We just have to get him to talk.”
“He sure has an aversion to going to jail. Being locked behind bars isn’t his idea of a good time.” Mia glanced back at the solitary man sitting at the metal table. “He gives me the creeps. And I agree with you, he’s probably the murderer of those last few girls. But he’s not smart enough to have gotten away with it for years. He’s a rookie and it shows.”
Lincoln put his arm around her shoulder. “I agree one hundred percent. And he needs a bath. Let’s go see what the forensics guys found in the camper.”
They crowded into the room across the hall, allowing the newcomer to speak. “We found a lot in that camper.”
Lucas crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “You found a lot of what?”
“We found a lot of evidence that could confirm that the man you have in there is indeed guilty of killing several young girls.”
David glanced over at Mia then back at the forensics guy. “Like what?”
“We found clothing that matches the description the parents gave us of the last two girls. Things they were wearing when they were abducted. We took samples of semen, blood, and other bodily fluids. They’re at the lab right now.”
“Any hint of an older guy? Someone who’d been doing this for a long time?” Mia asked, desperate for more information. “This guy wasn’t killing little girls all those years ago. Someone else was, and we need to find that person.”
The forensics guy shuffled his feet then glanced up at her. “I think they might be related.”
Lincoln staggered backwards. “What?”
“When you say they’re related,” Mia asked. “Related how? And tell us how you came to that conclusion.”
“We found his driver’s license in the glove compartment,” he said, pointing to the opposite room. “And there was another license in there as well. A George Becker.” The forensics guy handed Lincoln an evidence bag with two Texas drivers’ licenses inside. Mia looked over his shoulder as he moved the plastic around until they could read the wording. Sure enough, George Becker, born 1955.
Bingo.
Mia’s heart pounded like a sledgehammer. George Becker. Was that the name of the man who kidnapped her sister? Was he the monster behind all this? Had they finally landed this strong of a lead? Where was the son of a bitch?
“The date fits,” Mia said. “That would make him the right age.” She watched as Lincoln passed around the evidence bag.
“It says on his license that he lives on Crestwood Avenue.” Lucas looked over at David. “Go check it out. Find out if he’s there.”
“I don’t have to, Lucas. That house burned down five years ago. There’s nothing there anymore.”
Austin took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number quickly. “I want you to find out everything you can about George Becker. And get back to me as fast as you can.”
The forensics guy looked away. “It’s not been confirmed yet, but we found a false bottom in the camper. When we pulled up the boards, there were three corpses of young girls between the ages of five and seven. From the looks of it, they hadn’t been there that long.”
“Did the ME come and get them?” Lucas asked. “How did you find them?”
“Just like the earlier victims. They were completely dressed, right down to the shoes and socks. Their hair was fixed, and their arms were across their chests. Just like looking at them in a coffin.”
“Anything else?” Lucas asked, leaning closer.
“We’ve hauled the camper to Dallas where it can be gone over thoroughly, and we can get hai
r, fiber, and fingerprints. Anything else will come from them. I just thought you might want to know what we found.”
Once the deputy left, silence echoed through the room. “Remember,” Austin said with authority, “we don’t have the man yet. We don’t even know where he’s currently at. This case is far from closed.”
Lincoln leaned against the wall. “Where do you think this guy is right now?” He held the evidence bags containing the license. “This George Becker. Is he hiding out somewhere, maybe in plain sight since we have no idea what he looks like other than the driver’s license?” He looked at the bag with disgust. “By all appearances, the picture was taken years ago. What do we do next?”
Mia didn’t know what to think. The thought of being this close to the man who had murdered her sister tightened her stomach muscles so hard she felt like she could barely breathe. All of her adult life, she had wanted one thing. To make the man who ruined her sister’s life and destroyed her family to be dead.
Nothing else mattered. She had never sought her own happiness because she didn’t think that existed for her. Wasn’t in the cards. She had another mission. Justice. She was convinced she would never be happy, never be able to really live her life until that person was made to pay for his crimes. For all the innocent children he had stolen, leaving parents with broken hearts, broken homes, and broken lives. He had taken so much.
The next thing she knew, Lincoln had his arm around her, pulling her close against him. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I can’t believe this may all be coming to an end.”
Lincoln tilted her chin up and their eyes met. “We don’t have him in custody yet. And until we do, nothing is final. He could make a break for it and we never learn his whereabouts. Until we slap the handcuffs on him, it could all go up in smoke.”
“I know that, Lincoln.” She backed away. “But I’ve lived my life wanting to put this man behind bars. And I’m going to relish the thought that we’re almost there. Maybe then I can go on with my life. What little is left.”
Lincoln took her hand, walked outside the door, and backed her up against the wall. He lowered his head and captured her lips in a scorching kiss. “You have a lot left to live for. You have an entire future. Mia, don’t let this man rob you of anything else. He’s taken enough from you. Right now, you have to make a conscious decision that you are going to go on with your life and you’re going to decide to be happy. Otherwise, he wins.”
She glanced away. “For twenty years, I’ve woken up every day thinking about how I could catch this man and make him pay. I wondered what he was doing, how he slept, what he ate, what movies he enjoyed. I even visualize him having a wife, maybe even kids of his own. This George Becker is a monster that I have lived with since he took my sister. I don’t know if I can break the spell he has over me. Without my hatred for him, my life would be empty.”
“Don’t do this, Mia,” Lincoln said, stroking her cheek gently. “I know what loss is. I know how it steals your soul, robs you of happiness, and fades out your future so completely that you can never imagine smiling again.” He leaned down and kissed her again, then raised his head. “Until I met you, that was me. But you brought light where there was darkness, you brought hope where there was despair, and you proved to me that I’m still a man. A person who has a life to live and it’s up to me how I want to spend it. Right now, I’m looking at you.”
Chapter 17
Lincoln pulled Mia into his arms and squeezed, enjoying the feel of her warmth against his body. In a few short days, she had changed his entire life. Made him whole and given him a reason to get up every morning. Now he wanted to help her.
Austin stepped out the door and called them inside. As they stepped in and closed the door, Austin went to the front of the room. “Listen up. This is what we know about George Becker. According to the FBI files...” He nodded to the room across the hall. “…that guy in there, Floyd Becker, and George Becker, are brothers.”
David sat down. “Quite an age difference there.”
Austin continued. “That’s not all. There was another brother, Curtis. He was the middle brother.”
Lucas put his hand on his hip. “So where is this Curtis guy, and did he have anything to do with the murders?”
Austin scratched his head. “Everything hasn’t been sorted out yet. But here’s what we have. The reason George hasn’t been killing for twenty years is because he murdered their mother. The judge gave him twenty years. He served nineteen and a half years in prison. George was locked away when Curtis died of an accidental shooting. Floyd was involved, but they couldn’t prove anything.”
Lincoln shook his head. “I still don’t see where Curtis fits in. Did he know his brother was a murderer?”
“There is evidence that he took part in it. That he and George were partners. Together, they murdered those little girls.”
“Why would you think that?” David asked. “Up until now, Curtis hasn’t been a part of the scenario.”
Austin let out a deep breath. “His DNA, hair fibers, semen, and fingerprints were all over the camper. He was a part of it. We’re pretty sure of that.”
“So, George and Curtis were brothers, and both killers. Then George killed their mother. Why?”
“We can only speculate, but it appears when she found out George had been killing all those little girls, she went crazy on him and he choked her to death with that damn rope he always has on him. It’s also rumored Curtis was dying. The autopsy done on him said he suffered from an autoimmune disease.”
Lucas opened the door. “I think it’s time we talked to Floyd. I want to get this George character off the street as soon as possible, and I’m through messing around.”
“I agree,” Lincoln said, gritting his teeth. “Let’s get this bastard.”
They walked into the room where Floyd Becker waited. He had grown tense and more fearful being left alone. Good, Lincoln thought. Let the son of a bitch sweat it out.
Austin approached the prisoner. “Floyd, tell us about your brother George.”
Floyd appeared visibly shaken. “How do you know about him?”
Lincoln sat at the table across from Floyd. “We told you forensics was going to be going over the camper. They found your fingerprints on the little girl sneakers. They also found your brother Curtis’s fingerprints in the camper. Did you know about the three dead bodies beneath the floor?”
Floyd shuffled in his chair, lowered his gaze, and tightened his hands. “I told you, I don’t know nothing. And I’m not admitting to nothing either.”
“Why did George kill your mother?” Austin asked. “What did she do to deserve that?”
Anger tightened Floyd’s face. He shook his head and bit back tears. “I don’t know.”
“It had to be hard for you,” Lincoln said softly. “One brother dies and the other one kills his own mother. We know George spent years in jail for that. It would’ve saved the world a lot of trouble if they’d have just given him a needle in the arm. He’s not fit to breathe the air decent people live in.”
Floyd tried to bang his fist on the table but found it impossible to move his hands. “You don’t know nothing about it. You’re all just guessing.”
“We know that George went to prison for killing his mother. He killed her with the same instrument he used to kill all those young girls. A man needs a pretty strong reason to murder his own mother. And let’s not forget, Floyd, she was your mother too.”
“That just left you and George,” Lincoln reminded him. “He used to kill with your other brother. Did he talk you into killing with him? Did your mother fight against that, and is that why he killed her?”
“Y’all are jumping to a lot of conclusions. George didn’t talk me into anything.”
“Of course he did,” Lincoln stated. “George didn’t like to kill alone. He liked having a partner, but then his accomplice died. That left you.”
“I tell you, George didn’t ask me to start kil
ling with him.”
Lucas stepped forward and banged on the table. Floyd jumped and his eyes widened. “Then why in the hell did you kill those young girls? You never had before, Floyd. A few petty crimes here and there, but nothing like murder. Nothing like your brother George did. How do you go from breaking into houses and petty theft to murdering young, innocent girls?”
“I’m not admitting to anything.”
Austin stepped closer. “Floyd, you’re not going to have to admit to a thing. We have enough evidence right now, without going any further, to give you the death penalty. As a federal crime, that’s what we’re asking for.”
“What was your brother, Curtis, dying of?” Lincoln asked. “Did he get you into all this mess? Floyd, one look at you and we can tell you’re not a killer. Not like George. George has been sick for a long time.”
David leaned closer. “Did you know George was a murderer? Did your mother?”
Pouting, Floyd looked away. “He never hid nothing. He didn’t care who knew.”
“Of course he cared,” Lucas argued. “If he didn’t care, we would’ve caught him years ago. But he was careful not to be caught. And if he was going around bragging about killing little girls, trust me, it would’ve eventually gotten back to us. Only you, Curtis, and maybe your mother knew how demented George was.”
Floyd’s face grew red with anger. “Mom never knew nothing. He didn’t tell her.”
“Why?” Lincoln asked, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe because he knew she wouldn’t approve. She might even turn him in. Not like you and Curtis. You liked keeping that kind of secret. Laughing while everybody was out looking for your brothers, and you knew exactly where they were. What a joke on society.”
“I knew George was bad, so did Curtis, but we didn’t think he’d killed that many girls until we heard it on the news. Curtis didn’t always go with him hunting. He was mad and surprised when he found out that George had cut him out of a few things. Curtis liked killing little girls as well as George.” Floyd swallowed. “Sometimes they’d get drunk and sit around talking about all the things they’d done to those girls. Kind of made me sick.”
