She pulled up beside him and rolled down the passenger window. “Hey, isn’t the River Diner about a mile or two from here?”
He slowed his pace. “Thereabouts.”
“That’s a long walk.”
“Good for me. Builds character.”
She stopped. “Hop in. I’ll give you a lift.”
He shook his head. “That’s nice, but you don’t have to.”
Okay, he had to be a nice guy. He didn’t pounce on her offer like a crazed guy would. “No, really. I’m going that way, and it’ll save you a few steps.”
He cocked his head. “Sure?”
“Yes.” She unlocked the automatic door locks.
He opened the door and slid into the seat. Inside the car he appeared much bigger. His smile didn’t fade, but this close he had an odd vibe. One mile or two, and he’d be out of her life for good. “The River Diner, next stop.”
Bill grinned the devil’s grin, and before she could blink he pulled a long butcher knife from his pocket and poked it in her side hard enough to make her flinch. “I have a better idea.”
“What the hell,” she said.
He poked the knife tip harder into her side. “I’ve been watching you.” He inhaled the remains of her cigarette smoke. “Light me up one.”
When she didn’t move, the knife tip cut through her blouse and into her side. Tears of fear burned her eyes as she frantically dug the cigarettes out of her bag, lit one, and handed it to him.
He inhaled deeply. “Start driving.”
“Where?”
“A place where we won’t be disturbed or rushed.”
Five hours later Blair huddled naked in the corner of the dank, dark room and stared at the man who’d held and brutalized her for hours. When he’d first brought her here, she’d feared he’d rape her. And then after she’d lain under him, she’d sensed deep in her bones that she’d never leave this room alive.
He held up a simple white dress trimmed with a hint of lace at the cuffs and collar. “I want you to put this on.”
She pushed back a lock of hair, wincing when she touched the bruise on her cheekbone. Though craving the protection of clothing, she understood his offer had nothing to do with kindness. Mustering strength and defiance, she lifted her chin a fraction. “Why?”
A smile twitched the edge of his mouth. “I can make you hurt more.”
Blair’s chin dipped and quivered. The things he’d done to her. She’d not known pain could be so intense.
“You don’t want me to make you hurt more, do you?”
“No.”
He held out the dress.
She accepted it. Without rising, she lifted the garment over her head and slid it on. Oddly, it felt soft and warm against her skin. Carefully, she tugged the hem over her naked legs, craving coverage. “I won’t tell. I won’t.”
He nodded. “I know you won’t tell, Blair. I know.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes. “Then you’ll let me go?”
He held out his hand to her and waited for her to accept it. Wrapping gentle fingers around her hand, he pulled her into a standing position. She winced as she straightened, trying to ignore the pain and clung to the hope that he just might let her go.
His hand trailed up her arm, over the cotton sleeve, and rested in the hollow of her throat. “Your heart is beating so fast.”
“I’m scared.”
“You’ve no reason to be scared, Blair. The worst is over.” His other hand joined the first at the base of her throat. “You remind me so much of her. A fighter. I like that.”
“Her?”
His warm, rough fingers closed around her windpipe and he started to squeeze. She clutched his fingers, trying to pry them free, but they were as fixed as iron. Her heart beat faster as her body demanded air. Her fingers dug into his hands as she stared into dark eyes filled with such hate and anger. Soon, spots formed in front of her eyes and her eyelids closed as her body’s systems shut down. Her knees crumpled, increasing the tension on her neck.
As the last tethers to the world frayed and snapped, he said, “You remind me of Lara.”
Blair’s body weighed heavily in his arms as he carried her across the grasslands. Little moonlight lit the way, but he didn’t need it. He knew every rock, crevice, and blade of grass in this area.
In the distance behind him, the traffic on the interstate whooshed as he knelt and laid her body on the dry, cracked earth. Carefully, he arranged her hair and then fanned her skirt like a butterfly’s wings. He dug two pennies from his pocket and dared a glance at her half-open eyes. No matter how hard he’d squeezed her throat, her eyes had not closed. He laid the pennies on her lids, knowing the weight would end her death glare.
Blair had been good. Better than the last.
But she’d never be as good as Lara.
And she would soon be his.
Chapter 12
Sunday, May 26, 7 AM
Nearly a week of eighteen-hour days had dug into Beck’s reserves, and by rights he should have slept like the dead last night. After he’d left Henry’s for a quick dinner of takeout, he’d gone to his apartment and fallen into bed just after midnight. But instead of drifting off, he had tossed for hours until three in the morning when a light, fitful sleep had taken hold.
During those brief moments of slumber, he’d dreamed of Lara, standing before him in her black dress. She’d been smiling as she’d cupped his face with her hands and kissed him. The kiss hadn’t been tentative or light, but fierce and demanding. He’d pressed his hand to the small of her back, urging her silk-covered body against his. He’d deepened the kiss. Run his hands over her shoulders and down to breasts barely contained by the sleek material.
He’d awoken at five o’clock in the morning, hard and primed. He wanted a woman who likely would end up hating him before this investigation closed.
A cold shower had done little to take the edge off, so he’d dressed. As the coffee gurgled in the machine, the apartment walls closed in, smacking of his paid-leave days.
Coffee in hand, he’d headed out, picked up the Sunday paper, and by seven was sitting at his desk.
He flipped to the Entertainment section and found a striking picture of Lara standing in front of one of her photographs. Her sleek black dress hugged her curves and accentuated her blond hair. Diamond stud earrings sparkled and a lariat necklace dipped down her neck into the V of her dress. Her smile was radiant. Her eyes looked bright.
Absently, he traced her jaw line and wondered if her skin was as smooth as it looked. Shaking off the thought, he shifted his attention to the article and stopped dead.
Art Imitates Life
Local artist Lara Church opened her exhibition Friday night at 101 Gallery. The show, Mark of Death, featured landscapes that had all witnessed murders. The images were stark and striking and caught the attention of many who attended the opening Friday night.
When I first met the radiant artist I could not help but wonder why such a bright young woman would tap into such a dark subject.
And then Ms. Church disclosed that she had been nearly murdered herself seven years ago. She’d been a young fashion merchandising student in Seattle when she was viciously attacked and left for dead. Police believed her attacker was the Seattle Strangler, the mysterious serial killer who vanished after the failed attack on Church.
Beck sat back in his chair, continuing to read. The article went on to praise Ms. Church’s work and draw parallels between her attack and her art.
With nearly a day and a half to ease the euphoria of her opening, he wondered if she’d be so pleased with her decision to reveal her past for all to see.
The muscles in his shoulders and neck stiffened as he thought about someone watching Lara. Until now, isolated by her secrets, she’d been the killer’s own personal toy. Now that everyone knew about Lara’s past, there’d be lots of eyes on her.
His phone rang and he snapped it up. “Beck.”
“Bill Fields here
with DPS. We got another body on the side of Interstate 35. Another woman strangled. White dress. Pennies.”
Beck tensed and glanced down at the article and Lara’s shining face. “Do you have an ID on the woman?”
“What I just gave you is all I’ve got now.”
“Where are you?” Beck took note of the location. “Thanks.”
“Got more information on the Fisk case.”
The ominous tone of the officer’s voice tightened his muscles. “What?”
“Officers found a penny at the Fisk murder site. 1943. Found it about fifteen feet from the body site and under an inch of silt. They reckon it washed away after the rains in April.”
Beck sat back in his chair. “Thanks.”
Shit.
Three Austin murders were now linked. The killer that had hunted in Seattle seven years ago was in Austin. And Lara had put herself in the crosshairs. He dialed her home number and cursed when he got the answering machine.
He was out the door in seconds, praying like hell Lara wasn’t the latest victim.
Thirty minutes later, he arrived at the crime scene, roped off by hundreds of yards of tape. The traffic leading up to the crime scene had been slow on the interstate, and as he got closer he could see that DPS had closed two lanes of traffic.
At the scene, a half dozen squad cars, lights flashing, were parked on the side of the highway. The forensics van had arrived, as had the medical examiner. In the distance he could see a tent had been erected over what must be the body. Two officers with canines were searching the area around the body.
Beck parked his car, donned his hat, and moved down the shoulder of the road past the squad cars without stopping to speak to Santos or any of the DPS officers as he normally did. He followed the access path to the crime scene, his boots crunching on the uneven bone-dry terrain.