The Seventh Victim (17 page)

“Perhaps another time.”

Before Vera formed a new question, Cassidy came up beside her and hooked her arm around Lara. “Vera, do you not love Lara?”

The slim woman’s smile was calculating. “She’s charming. And her work is as excellent as she is fascinating.”

“Violent death is not easy.” Cassidy, sensing Lara’s stress, said, “Ms. Jones, let’s get a fresh glass of wine and have another pass around the gallery. There is a picture that I must show you.”

Lara eased a sigh from her lungs as the two walked away. In the moments she’d been talking to Ms. Jones the gallery had filled with several dozen people enjoying the wine and food as much as the art. She wished she could just get outside for a moment and get fresh air.

“You look like you could use this.”

The sound, a familiar and friendly voice, made her smile. Jonathan Matthews grinned down at her as she exchanged her warm wine for a cool, fresh glass. “My hero.”

“I do try.” His smile deepened the lines around his eyes. As much as she craved a cool liquid sliding down her throat, she didn’t take a drink.

“So how is the show going?” Jonathan said.

“Well. Really well, I think. Everyone is definitely talking about the photographs.”

“I knew you’d be a success.”

“Did you? I could use an extra compliment or two right now.”

“You? Oh come on. You are the bravest person I know.”

She smiled. “Feet of clay, my friend. Feet of clay. But you are the only person I’d dare admit that to.”

His gaze softened. “I’m glad you feel like you can talk to me. I have your back.”

“I know. And thanks.”

Cassidy cut through the crowd, her smile bright and eager. She nudged Lara gently with her elbow. “You are a hit, my girl. I’ve heard whispers of sales.”

Heat rose in Lara’s face. “I wasn’t sure how well my work would be taken.”

“Taken tremendously well.”

Cassidy glanced at Jonathan. “Jonathan, I don’t think I’ve seen you in several years.”

Jonathan smiled. “I’ve been busy. You’ve been busy.”

“That’s nice of you to support her.” A chill iced the words. Cassidy and Jonathan had never been friends, for reasons Lara could not explain.

Jonathan winked at Lara. “She’s the best.”

“And now I must steal her away from you,” Cassidy said.

Lara tossed a fleeting glance to Jonathan, who smiled back, and allowed Cassidy to introduce her to more people.

Lara let their conversation trickle over her head as she scanned the room, not so much looking at the crowds but looking for James Beck. For reasons she couldn’t explain she wanted to talk to him again. Tell him what she’d told Vera. When she didn’t spot his huge frame standing above the crowds, disappointment nagged her. Odd. Yesterday she couldn’t wait to get rid of the guy.

Beck’s warnings and his concerns replayed in her head. Anxiety churned in her belly before she made a conscious effort to still the chaos. Good or bad, Vera would write up her interview with Lara and the residents of Austin would know about her past.

Raines had intentionally arrived late to the gallery opening because he’d wanted to blend into the crowd and see Lara in action without being noticed. As he glanced toward the gallery’s large picture window, he spotted the petite blonde staring into the gallery’s display window. He recognized the girl instantly from the diner. Danni.

Most would have hustled right past the kid, but he couldn’t. Her fear and anxiety blinked bright like the gallery’s neon sign. “You heading inside?”

Shocked that someone had spoken to her, she hesitated. “I know you from the diner. Mr. Pancakes.”

“My friends call me Mike Raines, but for you, kid, I’d answer to Mr. Pancakes.”

A smile teased tense lips. “Raines suits you better.”

“And you’re Danni, right?”

“Good memory.”

“I do try.” He glanced through the window at the nicely dressed people milling around the framed photographs.

“So are you going inside?”

“I’m considering it.” Her black shirt and jeans made her blond hair and pale skin look almost translucent.

“What’s to consider? It looks like a great party.”

Her chin lifted a fraction, as she did her best to look disinterested when he would have guessed she was actually the opposite. “It looks a little stuffy.”

For whatever reason he liked the girl. She’d been friendly to him from the moment she’d poured him fresh coffee. She was in her late teens at most, and her attempt to look so self-assured made him wonder what had toughened her veneer.

“I’m about to head inside. Why don’t you come with me?”

She arched a brow. “Are you hitting on me?”

His laugh was genuine and clear. “You’re young enough to be my kid.”

She folded slim arms over her chest, her eyebrow arched. “And your point is?”

He shook his head, genuinely amused. “Kid,” he said, adding emphasis to the word, “I want to look at some art and have a beer. Underage kids are not on the menu.”

“I’m not underage.”

“If you’re not now, you were last week.”

His laughter eased her anxiety and he stayed clear of her personal space, knowing a violation would fortify her defenses.

She pushed back her hair with an agitated hand. Her fingernails were painted black. “So why do you want to see this exhibit? No offense, but you don’t look like the artsy type.”

“I’m not. But I know the artist, and I’m just being supportive.”

“You know Lara Church?”

His slid his hands into his pockets. “From the days we both lived in Seattle. And you?”

“I’m one of her students.”

“I’ll bet she’s a good teacher.”

“Yeah. Takes no crap, but can make the most complicated technique sound easy.”

“That’s a gift.”

“I guess.”

He held out his hand. “Danni, you got a last name?”

She glanced down at his hand and then took it. “Danni Rome.”

His grip was firm, but he released her hand quickly. She was looking for an excuse to bolt, and he didn’t want to be the one to give it to her. “So are you coming inside, Ms. Danni Rome? Or are you gonna stand out here and dream and wish?”

She straightened. “Dreaming and wishing are for saps.”

“I couldn’t agree more, and you don’t strike me as a sap. So what do you say? You want to come inside with me?”

“Okay, Mike Raines, let’s go inside.”

“That a girl.” He opened the door for her and waited until she passed before he followed. “Let’s hit the bar. Easier to break the ice with a drink in hand.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He followed behind her and, though tempted to place his hand in the small of her back and guide her, he did not. At the bar, he glanced down at her. “What would you like, Ms. Danni Rome?”

“Beer.”

The bartender raised a brow.

Mike grinned. “She meant to say soda. I get the beer.”

The bartender nodded. “Right away.”

Color rose in her face, but she didn’t speak. “You still act like a cop.”

Mike leaned toward Danni. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The bartender popped the top on a beer and handed it to Mike. Both with drinks in hand, they faced the crowd.

Danni took a long sip. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Raines glanced at the artsy crowd. They lived in an insulated dream world. He worked back alleys and dark streets. “So what can you tell me about this art, Danni Rome? I’m helpless in places like that.”

“You, helpless?” Laughter twinkled in her gaze.

“What can I say? The artsy types aren’t for me.” He glanced down at her. “Present company excluded.”

“Thanks.” She took another sip. “Lara uses a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old bellows camera.”

He listened as she explained the photography process to him. “Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.”

“As of yesterday. She asked me to help her with a shoot, and I got a chance to prepare a glass negative and shoot a picture.”

“Nice. So what did you shoot?” He knew the answer but wanted to hear it from her.

“What she always shoots. A crime scene.”

“A crime scene.” Tension rippled up his spine. “I’m surprised she’d take an underage kid.”

Danni sipped her drink. “I gave her a note from my mother saying it was okay.”

So she was as young as he thought. “Did your mother write the note?”

Danni sipped her drink, her lips wide in a grin.

“Thought so. When do you hit the big one-eight?”

“Nine days.”

Raines let out a sigh. “Kid, you are far too old for seventeen.”

“Technically eighteen.”

“In nine days.” He raised a brow. “So where did you go?”

“A clump of land off of Interstate 35. Not much to look at, but she was determined to get the shot.”

“When did you go?”

“About dusk. She’d been there earlier in the day at sunrise. And she wanted to get a different perspective on the site.”

He thought about the woman’s sunglasses in his breast pocket. “And did you?”

“I’ll know tomorrow. We’ll be developing the negatives.”

He spotted Lara across the room and for a moment was taken aback. When he’d first met her she’d been traumatized and so afraid. And during their subsequent interviews she’d drawn deeper into herself. The harder he pushed, the deeper she’d burrowed.

However, this Lara wasn’t like the woman he’d interviewed countless times. This Lara was hot. Her blond hair draped over her shoulders, and her black dress hugged her curves in all the right places. Her smile was radiant and her gaze sharp.

“So do you know who died at that spot?” Mike said.

“Some woman was strangled there. Apparently, she was pretty decomposed when a utility worker found her body.”

“You two should be careful,” Mike said. “Killers have been known to return to the crime scene.”

She cocked a brow. “So that line you gave me about being a cop was true?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know you. You could have been feeding me a line.”

He winked. “Smart girl.” He sipped his beer. “Yeah, I was a cop. Best twenty years of my life.”

“Was?”

Regret always mingled with these words. “Gave it up about six years ago. Time to expand my horizons.”

“And the new horizon is?”

“I own a security firm. We aren’t huge, but we get by and do well enough.”

“So do you follow or find people?” She tapped a finger against her glass.

He sensed the deep curiosity behind her questions. She wasn’t just making small talk but was intrigued. “So, Danni Rome, do you need me to follow or find someone?”

She offered a whatever shrug. “Just making conversation.”

“I hear interest. There a boss, neighbor, or boyfriend out there giving you a hard time?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No one.”

His cop radar said differently, but he let it pass. Not only did he like her, but she was close to Lara and that connection might prove beneficial. “Danni Rome, let’s have a look around this place.”

She stopped tapping her glass. “Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter 11

Friday, May 24, 11:15
PM

By the time the evening ended, Lara’s feet ached from the heels, and her face hurt from so much smiling. Cassidy waved good-bye to the last guest and locked the front door behind her. A wide grin softened her face. “You, my dear, were a huge hit tonight. Huge! This is just the beginning.”

Lara shrugged, trying to shake loose the knot between her shoulder blades. “It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to so many people.”

Cassidy walked to the bar and poured them each a glass of wine. She handed one to Lara as she took a sip from the other. “You were great. A natural. And you looked stunning.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s almost as if I was looking at a different person tonight. The first time I proposed the show, you looked as if you wanted to run and hide.”

Lara swirled her wine in her glass. “That’s not too far from the truth.”

Cassidy tipped her glass toward Lara. “But you did not run. You were like your old self tonight.”

Lara recognized seeds of change growing. “You’re right.”

Cassidy sipped her wine, her eyes keen and sharp. “Why didn’t you run? What made you say yes?”

Lara stared into the gold depths of her wine, wishing she could drink, knowing she wouldn’t. “I was tired of hiding.”

Cassidy cocked her head to the side. “And what were you hiding from?”

Lara’s secrets rose up again begging to be spoken. “You need to know this because I shared it with Vera tonight.”

Cassidy stilled her entire attention and fixated on Lara.

“I had a trauma in Seattle about seven years ago. It sent me inward.”

Cassidy’s glass paused inches from her lips. “What kind of trauma?” Her cousin always drove straight to the heart of the matter.

“I was sexually assaulted and nearly strangled to death by an attacker.”

Cassidy’s grip on her glass tightened. “What?”

“I don’t remember what happened.” She recapped what she did remember.

Cassidy set down her glass. “So you don’t remember who did this to you?”

Fatigue rushed over her. “No. I have no memory of the attack.”

“How can that be?”

“Doctors said it was the trauma of the concussion. Some even thought I was lying so that I could avoid the police investigation.”

“You weren’t lying.” She shook her head as if pieces of a puzzle fell together. “Grandma was upset around that time. I thought it was because she was sick and couldn’t attend your graduation.”

“I called her and told her what had happened. I begged her not to tell anyone, but she asked Jonathan to come and be with me.”

Cassidy’s lips thinned. “I would have come.”

“You were in New York. Life was going so well for you. I wouldn’t have wanted to drag you into my mess.”

“I would have come,” she said softly.

“I know.”

After a heavy silence, Cassidy said, “Jonathan always liked you.”

“He was great after the attack and so good to me, but I couldn’t stand being in a town where my attacker lived. I’ve been on the move until eight months ago.”