The Seventh Victim (31 page)

Jerrod shook his head. “Doesn’t happen every day.”

“No, it does not.”

“You thinking the killer called this in?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“Why would he do such a thing? The longer that body is out here, the less evidence we’re gonna retrieve.”

Killers had motives that didn’t always make sense to anyone but themselves. “Good question.”

“He’d want to stay under the radar so he could keep doing what he’s doing.”

“He likes the attention. Did you see the news last night?”

“Missed it.”

“The national news anchors are paying attention to the killer now.”

Jerrod shook his head. “Shit.”

After Beck’s call, Lara’s mind buzzed with thoughts of a woman she didn’t know. She imagined the woman breathing her last breaths as the killer’s hands crushed her throat.

For the briefest instant, her throat closed and an overwhelming jolt of fear burned through her body. She tried to draw in air but couldn’t. Panic tightened her chest, and she staggered backward to the couch and sat down. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She raised her hands to her throat as if invisible fingers squeezed out her life.

“It’s taken so much planning to get you here. So much work.” He drove into her with a force that made her entire body scream with pain. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for years. And now I have your life in my hands. If you thought you’d ignore me, you were wrong.”

Sweat beaded on her brow and her hands shook as she drew in a shaky breath and released it slowly. Her head cleared and her heart slowed.

For several seconds she couldn’t move. Frozen. Unable to stand. Call for help. Cry.

“What the hell was that?” she muttered. She’d never had a panic attack before. Could that have been a memory?

She rose and found her jean jacket hanging on the back of a chair. She fished out Dr. Granger’s card and dialed the number.

The line picked up immediately.
“This is Dr. Granger. I’m in a meeting now, but if you’ll leave your name and number I’ll get back to you.”

“Dr. Granger, this is Lara Church. I think I’m starting to remember. I’m headed toward your office now.” She left her cell number and then carefully hung up the phone.

Seven years of wanting these memories and now they were cracking through the blocks in her mind. And she was terrified.

Danni entered her mother and stepfather’s house just after nine. Her hope was that they were still sleeping off last night’s bender. If she was super quiet, she could grab and pack enough to last her several days.

Last night, they’d both had too much to drink and had started fighting early. When she’d pulled up in the driveway, she heard the shouting and the crashing of dishes. She’d not wanted to go into the house and so had pulled down the street and slept in her car. She’d considered asking Raines for help and had gone so far as to call his phone and let it ring once before losing her nerve and hanging up. He’d offered assistance, but it had been her experience that most people truly didn’t want to help.

Carefully, she cracked open the back door and snuck through the polished kitchen down the back hallway to her room. She gently opened her dresser drawers and pulled out a pair of jeans, T-shirts, and extra underwear. She also grabbed the hundred bucks she’d hidden under her mattress. As she moved back through the house she could hear her stepfather’s steady snoring coming from the living room.

She returned to the kitchen and opened the stainless steel fridge. It was all but empty except for a six-pack of beer, a jar of mayonnaise, stale Chinese food from three nights ago, and a jar of peanut butter. She snagged the peanut butter and turned to a breadbasket, knowing the bread was only days old. She took the softest pieces from the center of the loaf, dug a knife out of a drawer, and smeared peanut butter on the bread. Her stomach grumbled at the smell of the peanut butter. She was about to take a bite when she heard footsteps in the living room.

“Shit.” She tossed the sandwich and grabbed her knapsack. Her hand was on the back door when she heard her stepfather.

“Where the hell were you last night?” Roger Hail wasn’t a tall man, but what he lacked in height he made up from girth. He had wide shoulders, muscled, tattooed arms and legs that looked like tree trunks. His white, sleeveless T-shirt was stained with hot sauce and his jeans hovered below a beer belly on narrow hips.

Her spine stiffened as she turned to face him. “I was out.”

“Your mother and I were worried.” Bloodshot eyes glared.

“You two were fighting.” Her hatred for the guy goaded her to snipe, “It didn’t seem like you missed me.”

He hiked up his pants. “Maybe we was arguing over your bony ass and all the trouble you cause us.”

Her mother and stepfather’s lives were in the shitter not because they were hopeless drunks, but because they’d been saddled with a teenager. She’d heard this from both of them before, knew it was bullshit, and still it stung.

“I guess as long as my real daddy keeps sending the child support payments, which pay for your beer, you’re gonna have to deal with me. Wouldn’t look good to the social workers or courts if they found out you were pissing away my money.”

“Don’t you get smart with me, girl.” He moved toward her, raising his hand as he did.

She’d been hit by that hand before and remembered the bone-rattling smack that had knocked her to the floor. But as strong as he was, she was smaller and quicker. When he lunged for her she ducked out the back door and ran down the steps toward her car.

He stumbled and stubbed his toe on the threshold. “You worthless little bitch. Get back in this house.”

She shot him the bird as she ran. The momentary sense of accomplishment quickly faded as her trembling fingers fumbled with the door lock. She tossed her clothes in the car, dug in her pocket for her keys, and hit the auto door lock just as her stepfather pounded a meaty fist into the car window.

“Open this fucking door, bitch.”

Hands trembling, she shoved her key in the ignition and turned the starter. As the car engine turned over and fired, Roger reached down and picked up a large landscaping rock and hauled it over his head, ready to toss it through the windshield.

She gripped the wheel, her heart ramming against her chest as she put the car in reverse. She knew he was a mean drunk, but she’d never figured him for a psychopathic killer. “Shit.”

In that instant another car screeched up the driveway. The driver’s quick jerk of the steering wheel and sudden brake landed the car beside hers. Her stepfather’s attention shifted and his angry glare hardened.

To her surprise, Raines got out of the car. Without a glance toward her, Raines moved toward her stepfather, gun drawn, with deliberate slowness that suggested trouble.

“Raines, what are you doing?” she shouted.

He didn’t break stride or turn. “Stay in your car, Danni. We’ll talk after I’ve had a chat with this gentleman.”

Her stepfather clung to the rock but lowered it a fraction. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, pal?”

“I’m here to tell you to leave that kid alone.”

A smile curled the edge of his lips. “Or what? You’ll call the cops. I ain’t left a mark on her.”

“Looks like you were about to.”

“About to don’t hold shit in a court of law.”

Raines pointed his .45 at her stepfather’s head. “Didn’t catch that.”

Her stepfather’s grin vanished. “Wait a minute.”

“Raines,” Danni said. “You cannot just shoot the guy in his backyard.”

Raines grinned. “Why not? It’s easy enough to do.”

The look on her stepfather’s face was priceless. Fear. Hysteria. Anger. All blinked in an instant. “You can’t just kill me.”

Raines shook his head. “I sure can. And I promise you if you come near Danni again I will kill you.”

The old man’s gaze narrowed. “What is she to you?”

“She’s a friend.”

The old man spit. “You mean she’s your whore.”

Danni had heard the word from her stepfather often enough so it only made her flinch a little.

Raines, however, moved several steps forward, the tip of the gun moving closer to her stepfather. “Apologize to Danni.”

“I ain’t fucking apologizing.”

When Raines spoke, his tone was calm and chilling. “I don’t have to kill you with the first shot. I can start with your kneecaps.”

The old man paled. “Why do you care about her? She’s just a damn kid.”

“I have not heard that apology yet.”

Her stepfather looked as if he were chewing on barbed wire when he said, “Sorry, Danni.”

She had to admit it felt good to see the bastard squirm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Raines lowered the barrel of his gun to her stepfather’s foot. “You heard the lady. She didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry!”

“You get that one, Danni?” Raines said.

“I did. Thanks.”

“Now get back in your house,” Raines said to the stepfather. “And if I hear or see anything regarding this kid that makes me worry, I’m not giving you a warning. I’m going to kill you.”

Her stepfather swallowed and ran back in the house. When he was out of sight, Raines holstered his gun at the base of his back.

Danni dragged long fingers through her hair and rolled down her window. “Man, you still got some moves.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he glanced one last time in the stepfather’s direction. “I like to think so.”

“He’s going to be pissed.” Exhilaration mingled with fear. “And I bet he calls the cops.”

“No doubt.” Raines looked down at her.

“Where the hell did you come from, by the way? You were like a fricking ninja blowing in like that.”

“I saw your missed call on my phone last night. I came as soon as I could.”

“I didn’t tell you where I lived.”

“Finding people is what I do.” He glowered at the house, with its perfect and neat exterior. “Is there somewhere else you can stay?”

“I’ve got my car. I’ve also got one hundred bucks. That’ll do. Just three days until graduation and my eighteenth birthday. I’ll be coming into some money then.”

“You’re going to spend the next ten days in a car?”

“Sure. I’ve done it before.”

Raines shook his head. “I’m staying at the Foothills Hotel. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean.”

She blinked. “What, stay with you?”

“God, no.” Genuine amusement softened his expression. “We’d drive each other insane. I’ll get you your own room.”

“And then I would be in your debt. Sorry, cowboy, no can do.”

“My business does well, and I don’t have anyone to spend my money on. Might as well be you.”

“And still, I would be in debt to you.”

“No, you would not. And you will take the room.”

“Or what?”

His gaze turned serious. “I’ll call social services.”

She shook her head. “I do not like dealing with those people.”

“Then take the room, finish school, and move on with your life.” When she didn’t agree he said, “Look at it this way, I am paying it forward. Somewhere down the road you will get to do a good deed for someone. Do that deed and consider yourself paid back to me.”

“You’re an odd duck, Raines.”

“So I’ve been told.” He rested his hands on his hips. “You taking the room or am I calling in social services?”

“No strings?”

He laughed. “Like what?”

“Oh, come on, you must know.”

“Danni,” he said, laughter still dancing in his eyes. “No strings. Now want to join me for breakfast? I am starving.”

“Not at the River Diner.”

He chuckled. “I’m a creature of habit.”

“I know a diner. It’s good. And you can get your pancakes.”

“They as good as the River Diner’s?”

“Better.”

“I’ll follow you.”

Beck was still at the crime scene when his cell buzzed just after twelve noon. He glanced at the caller ID and when he saw Austin City Hospital he hesitated. His mind tripped through a hundred different scenarios. A colleague shot. His mother. His grandfather. Releasing a deep breath he opened the phone. “Sergeant James Beck.”

“Ranger Beck, this is Adele Knight at Austin City Hospital. We have your grandfather here.”

He sat back in his patrol car, letting his gaze drift beyond the crime scene. “Is it his heart?”

“Yes. He had a mild episode early this morning. He’s resting comfortably now.”

“I’ll be there within the half hour.”

Beck explained his situation to the people at the scene and then drove to the hospital. The old man was tougher than rawhide, and Beck couldn’t remember a time when his grandfather hadn’t been in command of his life. When he’d been diagnosed with heart disease last year it had been a wakeup call for Beck. The old man wouldn’t live forever. “But another decade or two will do.”

When he arrived twenty minutes later at the emergency room, he found the nurse’s station. He recognized the woman at the station, Jessie Parker. She’d worked with his mother at the hospital for at least a decade. Dressed in green scrubs, blond hair pulled up in a topknot and glasses perched on her nose, she smiled at him. “Beck.”

“Jessie. I hear my grandfather is here.”

She tucked a pencil in her topknot. “He is. Been raising a fuss with the nurses.”

“How’s he doing?”

“It was a serious attack, but he’s hanging tough. He’s in room twelve. Down the hall, fifth room on the right.”

A cold knot clenched his gut. “Is Mom with him?”

“She’s been with him for the last hour, but just took a break to get a coffee. She worked the night shift and needed just a few minutes to herself.”

Beck’s mother worked harder than anyone he knew. When Beck, his mother, and his brother had moved in with his grandfather, the boys had settled quickly and Henry had relished being father to his grandsons. His mother, just nineteen, had not been content. She’d dreamed of being a nurse so the old man had told her to stay put with the boys and get her degree. Soon she had enrolled in a nursing program. By the time he was seven she had her two-year degree, and by the time he’d graduated high school she’d completed the full four-year nursing degree.