The Seventh Victim (28 page)

When she spotted Mike Raines the strain in her back eased a fraction. He had quickly established himself as a welcome regular. Not only did he tip well, but also he was nice, always wishing her a good day on the way out. Too bad they didn’t make more guys like Mike.

Coffeepot in hand she moved up to his table, her smile now genuine and not forced. “So can I get you the regular?”

He glanced up from his paper over readers. His gaze skimmed over her and he frowned. “What happened to you?”

Danni shrugged her stiff shoulders. “What do you mean?”

He set down his paper and removed his glasses. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. You sick?”

“Not sick, just need a good night’s sleep.”

Lines furrowed his brow. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

His voice carried a paternal hint that made her yearn for better. “That’s kind of personal, don’t you think?”

“I like you. I’m concerned. So why aren’t you sleeping?”

Danni shrugged, trying to make light of a situation that grew more serious daily. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“I disagree.” He leaned toward her. “What gives, Danni?”

“Look,” she said, dropping her voice a notch. “It’s not that big a deal. I was just up late studying.” Which had been true for part of the night.

Behind the intensity radiated genuine concern. “Spill it.”

Her guidance counselor had been asking the same question for weeks, but now she wanted to answer. “My stepfather is a douche. But he’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is he hurting you?” All the lightness evaporated and what remained distilled to menace.

Her fears and worries rushed to the front of her mind and begged to be told. And then she caught herself. “No, nothing like that. He’s just being an ass.” She glanced toward Mack, who was staring at her. Always staring. “Look, we better drop this, or I’m going to lose this job, which I need. So can I get you the pancakes?”

He leaned back in the booth, making a visible effort to relax. “Pancakes sound good.”

As she moved into the kitchen, embarrassment burned her cheeks. She’d nearly told a total stranger a nasty truth. She’d tried to tell her mother once, but she’d called Danni dramatic and selfish. Since then she’d never told anybody about her new stepfather.

When Raines’s order was up she was half tempted to get another waitress to deliver it. She didn’t want to see pity or sadness in his eyes when before there’d only been easy laughter. He was one of the few people she enjoyed.

“Man up, girl,” she muttered as she stared at the steaming plate of pancakes.

She grabbed the order, thrust back her shoulders, and pushed through the swinging doors. He sat at his table, just like always, reading his paper. She liked the half glasses perched on his nose. They had a way of softening the sharp edges of his face.

As she approached, he pulled off his glasses and laid them carefully on his paper before leaning back.

She set the pancakes in front of him. “Here ya go. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m all set, Danni.” As she turned to go, he said, “Wait.”

He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “My cell number is on the card. I can be reached at any time.”

She stared at the white card with its simple embossed black lettering.
Raines Investigations
. Maybe if she could summon enough pride she could just make him forget that she’d ever spoken about her stepfather. “Why would I need to call you?”

He pushed the card toward her. “Take it.”

As she stood there frozen, he cut into his pancakes. Irritation and anger nipped at her heels. “I take care of myself, Raines.”

“Take the card, Danni.” His pancake-loaded fork hung midair inches from his mouth. “Take it.”

She scraped the card off the table and shoved it in her pocket. “I can take care of myself.”

He smiled. “I’ve no doubt. The card is just in case.”

Lara was grateful when class was over today. Spring fever had struck and no one was interested in listening to a review on technique when the sun shone outside. Mr. Gregory hadn’t shown and the cheerleaders looked as if they needed a nap. Even Danni had appeared quiet and distracted.

She’d wanted to talk to Danni after lab, but she had made a quick excuse about work and hustled out of the darkroom. Lara packed up her backpack, and she and Lincoln left the building. The semester would be over soon and she was looking forward to spending more time in her own darkroom.

She arrived at her truck and noticed a slip of paper under her windshield. Her body tensing, she tugged the paper free and glanced at the words.

The killer is close
.

Her heart jackhammered against her ribs as she stared at the handwritten note that reminded her again of Mr. Gregory’s beefy hands gripping a pencil. Crumpling the page, she cursed. She opened her door, tossed the wadded paper on the ground, and let the dog hop up onto the seat. Slowly she got behind the wheel. Once was annoying. Twice deserved a call to Beck.

A tap on her window made her screech. Her gaze darted up to find Jonathan standing by her car. He was grinning down at her, a quizzical look on his face. Hysterical laughter bubbled in her chest as she rolled down the window. “You startled me.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s just one of those days. Do you teach today?”

“No. I was looking for you. I thought you might like to grab a quick dinner. I’ve barely had a chance to see you in the last few weeks and thought it would be fun.” He nodded toward the dog. “And I know a place that’ll allow Lincoln if we sit outside.”

A hot meal was a welcome thought. And she could use a friendly face. “Sounds good.”

“My car is parked two spaces over. Follow me.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of a small restaurant that had a lovely outside garden. As promised, Jonathan had a table on reserve outside where Lincoln could sit.

She settled into her seat and savored the day’s heat. It wasn’t blistering hot but warm, a welcome relief from the university’s chilling air-conditioning.

“They have great vegetarian fare here,” he said as they opened the menu.

Her stomach grumbled. “I am starving.”

“Good.”

They scanned the menu and placed their orders, and when their drinks arrived Jonathan leaned back in his chair. “So have you sold any pieces from your show?”

She sipped her sweet tea. “Four, as a matter of fact.”

Brown eyes warmed with pride. “Well, good for you. I knew you’d be a success.”

“Well, that makes one of us. I was convinced I’d be hauling all the pieces home and stashing them in the back room.”

“You never used to underestimate yourself. When you were a teenager you were ready to set the world on fire. Seattle changed you.”

She rarely referenced her life in Seattle or the days her grandmother had sent Johnny to take care of her. “I got burned, remember?”

“I was surprised you told that reporter about Seattle.” She shrugged. “I am starting to feel like my old self. About time the wounds healed.”

He grinned. “About damn time.”

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you for putting the good word in for me with the university. I don’t think I’d have gotten the job if you hadn’t.”

“Didn’t take much effort on my part at all. So how do you like the teaching?”

“Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. Some of the students are great. Others, well, they try my patience.”

“How so?”

“Since the article, someone has been putting notes on my windshield.”

“What kind of notes?”

“‘The killer is close.’ That kind of crap.”

Jonathan frowned. “That’s not good at all. Do you know who’s doing it?”

“Ideas, but no proof.”

“Who do you think is doing it?”

“I’d rather not say. I could be wrong.”

He leaned forward. “Have you told the police?”

“Not yet. But I plan to.”

“It should be top priority.”

“I know.” Nervous, she realigned her fork with her plate. “I guess learning to trust the cops again isn’t so easy.”

“Lara, if you don’t tell the cops, I will. This is not good.”

“I know. I will call.”

His gaze lingered on her a beat too long, but to her great relief he didn’t press. “So do you think you’ll stay for another semester?”

She traced her finger down the side of the iced glass. “I got an e-mail today as a matter of fact. The university offered me two classes in the fall.”

“Are you going to take them?”

She ignored the faintest hint of hopefulness in his voice. “I’m thinking about it.”

The waitress arrived with their meal. The spicy scents of cumin, peppers, and cheese rose from the enchilada.

“Smells great,” she said.

He smiled. “Dig in.”

Since it was easier to focus on the details of the meal than his warm smile, she dropped her gaze to the steaming plate in front of her. “I will never get tired of the food in Texas. Never.”

“There’s a lot to love about the state.”

“So how has the custom furniture-building business been going these days?”

“Not the boom days we had a couple of years ago, but we’re surviving. I haven’t had to lay anyone off, and we just got a big order from a rich patron. That’ll keep us all going for months.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He stabbed his fork into a plump enchilada. “Any other issues since the article came out?”

“Most folks don’t recognize me from the picture in the paper. Thankfully, I’m rarely dressed up and wearing makeup and heels.”

He smiled. “What about the media?”

“My answering machine is managing them well enough for now. And so far no one has come up to the house. Here’s hoping there are more important matters for the world to worry about than a seven-year-old case.”

“A tie-in to the current murders is newsworthy, Lara.”

“I’m still hoping there is no connection.”

He shook his head. “Hoping won’t cut it, Lara. You’ve got to be careful. Proactive.”

Lincoln stretched out under her feet, and she glanced down at him. She’d tell Beck about the notes.

The rest of their dinner was pleasant and Lara realized she was enjoying herself. Jonathan had been her friend since she was a kid, and he felt like family.

By the time she and Lincoln made their way back home it was nearly eight in the evening. She was feeling relaxed and at ease and ready to crawl into bed with a book.

However, the sense of goodwill vanished when she spotted Beck’s truck parked in front of her house. He was sitting on her front porch, his legs outstretched and his hat dangling from his fingers. When he saw her truck, he rose and moved with a predator’s ease.

She opened her door and Lincoln bounded out of the car and ran up to Beck. He sniffed his hand, then dashed off toward the brush to pee.

Lara glared after the shepherd, shaking her head. “So much for a bodyguard.”

The dog’s excited barks drifted from the woods as Beck leveled his gaze on Lara. “When he feels a threat he’ll step up. It’s clear he adores you.”

From the bottom step she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “What brings you out here, Sergeant Beck?”

“Came to make sure you were doing okay. You don’t answer your phone much. And your message machine is full.”

“The article.”

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes.”

He pulled out his own phone. “What’s the number?”

She rattled off the number as she climbed up the stairs past him to the front door and unlocked it. “Did you come out here just to get my number?”

“Dr. Granger called the house several times. When she didn’t get you she called me.”

Of course, he’d come about business. That made sense. So why care? “Hence your visit.”

“She’d like to see you tomorrow at one.”

“That works. I canceled class tomorrow so the kids could have extra time to work in the photo lab.” She twisted the key in the lock.

He stood close behind her. “She said she’d make any time work. Just show up.”

“Okay.” Memories of last night’s dream drifted to the forefront of her mind. “I had a weird dream last night. I’ve never had it before.”

The dimming sun cast shadows across his face, deepening the lines and hard planes. “About Seattle?”

“I think so.” She opened the door and flipped on the light. “Come in if you like.”

He followed her inside as she turned on lights and dropped her bag on top of the kitchen table. Scanning the room for signs of trouble, he said, “What was in the dream?”

Mindful of breakfast plates on the coffee table and the stack of coffee cups on the end table, she resisted the urge to start straightening. “It was more like a nightmare.” She set her keys on the kitchen counter and leaned into it. Speaking about the dream gave it credence and made it uncomfortably real. “You’ve read my file from Seattle. You know the Strangler ... raped me.”

His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

When her gaze lifted to his, the intensity made her hesitate. “I should probably just talk to Dr. Granger about this.”

“You can.” He spoke carefully as if coaxing a wild horse toward the corral. “Or you can tell me.”

“It just feels odd.”

He nodded toward a stool by the kitchen counter. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll make some.”

“I got it.”

She thought about him fumbling around in her kitchen, getting a better look at the dishes in the sink and the counter that she should have wiped last night. “Let me make the coffee.”

He set his hat down on the kitchen table and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“It will give me something to do.”

“Have a seat.” An order, not a request. “My mother hates anyone in her kitchen, especially if it’s not perfectly clean. I’ve seen dirty dishes in sinks before, Lara.” Her given name sounded rougher, wilder when he spoke it.

“I’d planned to do a big clean as soon as I submitted my grades next week.”

When he moved into the kitchen it suddenly looked tiny. “Sit.”

She sat at the tall kitchen counter. “The coffee is in the tin next to the machine.”