The Seventh Victim (21 page)

Lara leaned her head against the steering wheel. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Ma’am? Ms. Church?” the officer said.

Surprised to hear her name, she sat up and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yes?”

The name Brown glistened from a gold nameplate on his chest. “I’m writing you a ticket for going eighty-nine in a seventy, that’s a mile short of reckless driving. And I’m not going to cite you for failure to pull over when I flashed my lights. I got a couple of dogs myself and, well, I get it.”

“Thanks.” She watched as he scribbled information on his form and turned it around for her to sign. Her signature was shaky at best.

He handed her back her driver’s license, insurance card, and a copy of the ticket. “Any idea who might have poisoned your dog?”

The image of him lying in the backyard flashed and tore at her. “No. None.”

He hooked his fingers into his gun belt. “Think it might have anything to do with the article written about you this morning?”

She stiffened. “Has everyone read that?”

“By now, I’d say just about.”

She’d accepted that she’d catch heat for the article, but it had never occurred to her that Lincoln might be a target. “I don’t know.”

He nodded. “Go ahead and park your truck. I suspect they’ll have paperwork inside.”

“Thanks.” Minutes later she sat alone in the tiled waiting room filling out papers fastened to a clipboard. The receptionist had assured her that Lincoln was being looked after and that a technician was caring for him. While she waited, another family rushed in a small mixed breed hit by a car and another couple brought in an old cat that was seizing. The animals were taken in the back and the distressed owners were left to wait with her.

When the front door to the hospital opened the third time she didn’t even bother to glance up, but kept her focus on the papers.

“Lara.” Beck’s deep baritone voice startled her.

She found him standing there, his hat in his hand. Stiffening, she rose. “Sergeant? What are you doing here?”

“DPS tells me you racked up one hell of a speeding ticket.”

Worry for Lincoln kept her temper in check. “You’re keeping an eye on me.”

“That’s right.” He nodded toward the chair as he removed his hat. “Have a seat. You look wrung out.”

“I’d rather stand.” Nervous energy snapped and popped under her skin.

“Sit.”

Another order.

If she’d had an ounce of fight, she’d have stood her ground. But she had no attitude to rally. She sat down, and he took the seat beside her.

His hat balanced on long, lean, calloused hands. “Want to tell me what happened?”

She tipped back her head, willing fresh tears to stop. “Don’t be nice to me. I’m not up for mind games right now.”

His gaze roamed over her from head to toe. “I don’t have an angle.”

A bitter smile twisted her lips even as she fought back tears. “Of course you do.”

“I want to know.”

Despite genuine empathy underscoring the words, this visit wasn’t about her. It was about the case. Always the case. For reasons she couldn’t explain, that hurt.

She centered the papers on her clipboard, hoping her thoughts would do the same. “I don’t know what happened. I came home and found him in the backyard. He wasn’t moving.” She scribbled her name, but the ink went dry. Shaking the pen, she resisted more tears.

Beck removed a pen from his pocket and handed it to her. Without looking up, she nodded her thanks but didn’t speak as she filled in the vitals.

His presence gave her an odd quiet strength that softened the edges of her nerves. Only when she’d finished the forms and turned the clipboard back into the receptionist did he speak.

“Did you leave him outside?”

She shook her head. “That’s the thing. I left him on the couch in my house. I clearly remember that.”

“You’re sure?”

“That part of my memory is crystal clear.”

“And you locked the house?”

“Yes. I am obsessive about security, for obvious reasons. Whoever got to Lincoln broke into my house and got to him.”

The staff door opened and a young woman in surgical scrubs said, “Lincoln.”

Lara rose. “Yes. How is he?”

Beck stood, his head at least twelve inches above her.

The woman at the door was small. Dark hair brushed her shoulders, and she wore rimless glasses and no makeup. “I’m Dr. O’Neil. And he’s doing just fine. He’s starting to wake up now.”

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.”