The Seventh Victim (32 page)

Though there’d been opportunities for his mother to find a new place for Beck and his brother, she had stayed with his grandfather. His mother had dated men, and his grandfather had a lady friend he’d been seeing for over twenty years, but his mother and grandfather had never remarried, choosing instead to keep a stable home for Beck and his brother.

Everyone had assumed that when the Beck boys moved out of the house Elaina and Henry would part ways. But Henry had suffered his first heart attack shortly after the boys had moved out, and so his mother had stayed with the father-in-law who had become just as much a father to her as he had to his grandsons.

Beck removed his hat and stepped into his grandfather’s room. The old man lay on his bed, his face as pale as his sheets. Time had not thinned his white hair and thick mustache. Sun-etched lines burrowed deep around his eyes and forehead. The mechanic resembled Wild Bill Hickok.

He was attached to a half dozen wires and IVs, and for the first time in Beck’s memory, Henry looked fragile. Beck pulled up a chair by the old man’s bed, not sure if he should take his hand, say something, or just sit.

“I’m not dead,” his grandfather said without opening his eyes.

Beck loosened his tie. “I hear you’re making life tough for the nurses.”

“I don’t appreciate their fussing.” He opened his eyes and looked at Beck. “What the hell are you doing here?”

With effort, Beck kept his voice steady and light. “I heard you were sick, but I can see they were wrong.”

The old man nodded. “Damn straight. I don’t know what the fuss is about.”

“You had a heart attack,” said Beck’s mother from the doorway. Dressed in nurse’s scrubs, Elaina Beck’s dark hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. She was a petite woman who’d kept her figure trim and at fifty-one could have passed for a woman at least a decade younger. A gold cross dangled around her neck. “And it was more serious than the last.”

“You worry too much,” Henry said. “Don’t listen to your mother. She’s a woman and women worry.”

Elaina arched a brow. “I am the most sensible woman you have ever known, Henry Beck, so watch your tone with me.”

They’d grumbled at each other like this for as long as Beck could remember. “Has anyone spoken to Steve?”

“I called your brother,” his mother said, “But he did not pick up. I left him a message and told him to find his way back to Austin as fast as his fanny could carry him.”

“Leave the boy alone,” the grandfather said. “He’s most likely working.”

“Working,” Elaina said. “His obligation now is to family.”

Steve Beck worked for the FBI. He rarely discussed his work, which required him to travel a great deal. Right now he could be anywhere in the world.

“I’ll track him down,” Beck said.

“No,” the grandfather said. “Leave the boy be. I’m fine, and I’ll be out of here by sunset.”

Elaina shook her head. “I know my boy. He’ll be here for a few days.”

Beck held his comment regarding Steve. He’d give his brother a little more time and then he would track his ass down. In the meantime, he looked at his grandfather’s pale, drawn face. The doctors and nurses, including his mother, were treating him like an old man. Their intentions were good, but Henry Beck wasn’t used to being babied.

“Old man,” Beck said as he stood. “You need to stop bellyaching and do what the doctors say. You don’t have to like a job to do it well.”

Henry grunted, frowning at words he’d tossed out to his grandsons often enough. “I got enough gas in my engine to kick your ass for being disrespectful.”

“I’d let you try, but I’m in the middle of a case right now. Once it’s solved and you’re on your feet we’ll mix it up.”

“Punk.” Henry closed his eyes, but this time there was a grin on his lips.

Beck clamped his hand over the old man’s and for the briefest second the old man’s fingers curled around his. “See you soon.”

Beck and his mother left the room.

“The way you two talk to each other,” Elaina said.

He cleared his throat. “I know you love him, Mom, but he’s not a child.”

Elaina’s eyes reflected her pain and worry. “He’s a sick old man.”

“Maybe, but don’t talk to him like he is. Give him shit just like you used to when Steve and I were kids.”

She clutched her cross and slid it back and forth on its chain. “Your language, Beck.”

“I’m serious, Mom. Don’t treat him like he’s old.”

“I got it. I got it.”

Beck softened his tone. “So how bad is it?”

“Bad. He coded in the ambulance.”

“He called nine-one-one?”

Her intent gaze glistened with unshed tears. “He was on the phone with me when he complained of chest pains. I sent the ambulance.”

His own chest tightened with frustration. It was his job to fix the broken, and he had no remedy for the pain in his mother’s eyes or his own heart. “Is he going to be all right?”

“They need to do more tests and see what damage has been done.”

“He’s tough.” The words were meant to allay his fears as much as his mother’s.

“Not so much right now. Which is why you need to track down Steve. I know your brother loves Henry and would want to see him.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Last I heard he was working a case by the Mexican border.”

She removed her glasses and cleaned the lenses with the edge of her scrub top. “Just find him.”

Beck leaned down and kissed his mother on her cheek. “I will find him.”

Her gaze narrowed as she studied his face. “You’re not sleeping.”

“Like I told Henry, I have a case.”

“I read about the women who were strangled. Is that the case?”

“It is.”

She fingered the cross dangling over her collarbone. “Who would do such a thing to a woman?”

“I don’t know, but I plan to find out.”

She frowned. “Be careful. If this crazy man can kill a woman, he won’t think twice about taking a shot at you.”

“I will.” He’d compromise his own safety in a heartbeat for the opportunity to drop this killer.

Chapter 18

Thursday, May 30, 12
PM

By the time Lara drove into town her nerves had calmed and the panic had all but gone away. She’d called Dr. Granger and confirmed their one o’clock appointment. With an hour to kill, she’d swung by the school to check on the students at today’s open lab, being held in lieu of a final class.

There were a half dozen kids milling around the classroom attached to the lab and more in the darkroom. She counted seven students and to her disappointment, Danni was not present.

Danni had never missed a class or a chance to work in the darkroom. The kid was always early. Work done. Good, engaged questions. And now she was MIA.

Remembering Danni’s drawn features yesterday, Lara quickly scanned her student list for Danni’s cell number. She dialed. It rang once and went straight to voice mail. “
This is Danni. When the tone beeps, you know the drill.
”

“Danni, this is Lara Church. Just checking to make sure you’re okay. Call me.”

She’s a kid, Lara reasoned. Bound to skip a class now that classes were wrapping in her high school. No doubt she had graduation practice or parties or whatever normal kids did when high school wrapped.

She was feeling edgy so everyone else could join her. “Let’s see what you’ve done in the last week.”

“Our projects aren’t due until tomorrow,” Wally complained. He stared at a collection of drying prints. His subject matter always focused on baseballs or footballs.

“I want a final look. I might be able to offer some helpful tips.”

She moved to the first table, where three girls focused on matting their black-and-whites. The first girl, Tiffany, had taken pictures of her front porch. “The play of shadows is nice.” The next two girls had taken pictures of their cars. Not original, but they’d put forth the effort. The next few students had completed varying degrees of work. Most were close to completing their portfolio, but all could use more work.

Tim sat at the back table where Danni usually sat. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, his demeanor telegraphing a lack of interest. “Want to see my stuff?”

She arched a brow. “You’ve been photographing?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Working like a dog. He flipped open a portfolio to reveal a collection of stunning shots of the Texas State Capitol building.

Carefully, Lara inspected the prints. “You took these?”

“Sure did.”

She lifted her gaze to him. “I got the impression you hadn’t done much.”

He leaned forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the floor. “Told you, it’s easy to snap a few pics.”

“Snap. A. Few. Pics?”

“Wasn’t that hard.” He leaned forward. “I mean, come on, it’s photography.”

“Whoever took these is a talented photographer.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I’m having a hard time believing you took these.”

“Believe it.”

She shook her head as she gazed again at the portfolio.

“What?”

“I don’t believe you took these.”

“Well, I did.” His voice, peppered with defiance and anger, raised a notch.

“I’d like to see the negatives.”

“I don’t got them with me.”

“Then get them. I’d like to watch you develop one of them.”

Tim glanced around the room at the other students, who were all staring at him now. He was a hothead, but smart enough to understand that confronting a teacher publicly wasn’t wise. He shrugged. “Whatever.”

She studied him an extra beat and then shook her head. “How about tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

She lingered another twenty minutes, answering questions and making suggestions, and then she and Lincoln headed out so she could make her one o’clock with Dr. Granger.

As she got to her truck, she tossed her bag in the seat and turned it on so the AC would cool the interior. Lincoln jumped in the front seat and went to sleep.

She happened to glance back and realized that her back tire was flat. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Really?”

She strode to the tire, squatted, and spotted the knife that had been driven into the tire. Tim or one of his buddies came to mind. “Damn.”

Lara rubbed the back of her neck and rose. She shrugged off her jean jacket and reached for the metal box mounted to the back of her truck bed. She spun the dial of the combination lock and opened it, yanking out a jack and wheel wrench.

If seven years on the road had taught her any lessons it was how to take care of herself and her car. She’d changed several tires over the years, and though she did not enjoy the task, she could do it.

She moved to the cab and shut off the engine. “Sorry, Lincoln. Let’s get out and sit in the shade while I change the tire.”

He yawned and jumped out of the truck and sauntered to a bit of shade. She pushed up her sleeves, popped off the hubcap, and placed her wheel wrench on the first lug nut, loosening it half a turn. When she’d loosened all the nuts a fine bead of sweat pooled down her back, and she could feel her temper ratcheting up.

She slipped the jack under the frame, stood, and pumped the jack with her foot. The car rose slowly.

“Looks like hot work.” Tim’s gleeful voice was right behind her. “Tough break.”

Slowly she turned around. He stood there sipping on a cold soda, grinning.

A pragmatic tone hid her anger. “Did you do this?”

He shrugged. “Why would I do that?”

Anger burned behind the ice. “Because you are an immature kid.”

His brow knotted. “You deserve every bit of grief you get.”

“Why? Because I care about doing a good job, and I don’t have use for slacker kids?”

Lincoln picked up on the tone of her voice and rose. His hackles lifted and he growled.

“And if your dog comes near me,” Tim said, “I’ll jab a knife in his throat.”

The heat coupled with the flat tire had put her temper on simmer, but a threat against Lincoln was enough. She could never take Tim physically, but she could challenge his work to the dean. She moved to the front seat of her car and dug her cell phone out of her purse.

“Who are you calling?”

“The police. And after that the dean.” She was just about to hit SEND when she felt a large hand clamp down on her shoulder.

He squeezed hard, forcing her to cry out and drop the phone. He twisted her arm behind her back and shoved her against the truck. “If we had more privacy,” he breathed into her ear, “I’d fuck you right here and now so that the next time you saw me you’d be afraid.”

Lincoln’s high-pitched bark cut across the lot, garnering some attention. When the dog lunged at Tim, the boy kicked at the dog. The intended blow skidded past the dog’s head.

“Let me go.” She tried to twist around, but he increased the pressure on her arm.

“Call your dog off, or I’ll break your fucking arm.”

She drove her foot into his shin, and though he flinched, the impact wasn’t enough to make him release his hold. He twisted harder. She screamed. Lincoln bit at the back of Tim’s leg.

Footsteps pounded behind them and in the next instant, Tim’s grip was broken. Circulation immediately rushed back into her arm, and she turned her fingers already curled into a fist.

Beck stood behind her, his large hands twisting Tim’s arms behind his back. “Give me a reason, kid. Give me a reason.”

The kid tried to break free, but Beck kicked his legs out from under him and sent the kid sprawling to the ground. Beck put his knee into Tim’s back and cuffed his hands behind his back.

Beck rose and opened his cell phone as he stared at Lara. “You all right?”

“I’m good.” She rubbed her arm, aware that if this encounter had gone on a little longer Tim would have broken her arm.

Beck spoke to local police and requested a car be sent to their location. Satisfied police would soon arrive, he re-clipped his phone to his belt and hefted Tim to his feet. “Get up.”

“Christ, man, you’re hurting me.”

Beck got right on the boy’s ear and whispered words she couldn’t hear. Judging by the look on Tim’s face, whatever Beck said wasn’t pleasant. Seconds later two police cars arrived and officers got out. Beck explained the situation and Tim was led off in cuffs.