He exhaled. “It’s family.”
She laughed. “Translation: problem.”
“Not always.”
“Maybe in your family. Not mine. I don’t remember a Christmas, Easter, or Thanksgiving that wasn’t pure hell in the Church home.”
Grasping the sadness woven under the lightly spoken words, he frowned. “It wasn’t like that in our home.”
“Who’s Steve?”
“My brother.”
“Sounds like you have an issue with Steve?”
“Since when did you get so interested in my life?”
“Since mine hit the skids a couple of weeks ago. Easier to worry over what Steve has done to piss you off than wonder if I’ll be able to remember the man that tried to kill me before he kills another woman.”
Beck’s face softened. “Steve is an FBI agent. He travels a lot for work and is hard to get. He rarely gets home these days. Our grandfather is sick, and I’ve told Steve he needs to come home.”
“And he doesn’t want to.”
“He wants to, but he says he can’t. He’s in the middle of a big case.”
“Where is your dad?”
“Died on the oil rigs about twenty years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hard to feel sympathy for a man I barely knew. If not for pictures in Henry’s house, I couldn’t tell you what he looked like.”
“Do you look like him?”
“I look like Henry. Steve looks like Dad and has his wanderlust as well.”
“And so you became the super responsible one who keeps the family together.”
“Mom and Henry did that until five or six years ago when Henry had his first heart attack. When he got sick I did step in and help with the family business.”
“Which is?”
“Beck’s Garage.”
“That explains how you changed the tire so easily.”
“I’ve had my head in one engine or another since I was three.”
Questions initiated as a diversion from her troubles had morphed into genuine interest. “Why the Rangers?”
“As a kid it was easy to look up to them. Henry saw early on that that was what I wanted, so he encouraged me. Did the same for Steve. Wanted us to live our own lives. My brother took off first chance he got, but I stuck around—would have been in the garage today if my grandfather hadn’t fired me.”
“Fire you? Why?”
“He was smart enough to know I’d not have left otherwise.” Beck’s tone was matter-of-fact.
The door opened and Dr. Granger entered. She had her hair up in a French twist and wore another dark slim skirt, a white shirt, and a discreet strand of pearls. “Lara. I am so glad you could come.”
They shook hands. “Thanks for seeing me.”
“I’m glad to have you.” She shook Beck’s hand. “Beck. Will you be joining us for the session?”
“Yeah.”
When Lara nodded her agreement, Dr. Granger ushered the three to a small sitting area with a couch and two chairs. Lara sat on the couch. Beck sat to her right in a chair, hat in hand. Dr. Granger sat to her left on the couch.
“Now I want you to relax.” Dr. Granger’s voice had a calming, quiet quality.
Shoving out a sigh, Lara attempted a smile. “Easier said than done. I feel as if I’m sitting on pins and needles.”
“You’re not. This is just you and me talking. No pressure.”
Lara glanced at Beck. “Locked in my memory is the face of a killer.”
“Let’s not worry about that now, okay?” Beck said. “Let’s just worry about relaxing and listening to the sound of Dr. Granger’s voice.”
The doctor smiled. “Ask any of the Rangers, and they’ll tell you I have a voice that can put anyone to sleep.”
Lara smiled. “Okay.”
“Close your eyes.”
Lara closed her eyes and rested her hands on her thighs. She started to breathe deeply and release the worry and fear.
“That’s exactly right,” Dr. Granger said. “Just relax.” She shifted her weight on the couch so that she was closer to Lara. “Now I want you to imagine a crystal hanging from the rearview mirror of your truck. You are sitting on the side of the road and in the distance you see mountains and blue skies. Do you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now slowly pull your attention toward the crystal and focus on the play of the sun in the crystal. Note the colors and the way the crystal spins.”
Lara’s inward gaze drew in closer and closer until all that she could see was the rainbow of colors in the crystal. The physical world melted away. Her fingers eased into the soft denim fabric covering her thighs.
“We’ve traveled back in time to Seattle. You’ve just gotten a huge job promotion, and you are on top of the world.”
Lara smiled. “I’d been waiting and hoping for this job for months.”
“You were thrilled.”
She eased back into the couch, remembering the sense of relief she’d felt when she’d gotten the call. “Beyond thrilled.”
“And who were you celebrating with that night? What friends did you have around you?”
“The usual suspects.” She smiled. “Angela. My roommate. Dave who was in my marketing class with me. Kyra from yoga and Nancy from the new company. They were kidding me when I ordered my second glass of wine. I was always a little rigid and focused on work. They’d never seen me let my hair down.”
“What was your average day like?”
“I was always up by five, to the gym by six and classes or the library by eight. I treated school like a workday.”
“You studied fashion.”
“Fashion merchandising and business.”
Beck found himself drawn in by Lara’s easy smile. Since the day they’d first locked gazes, she’d been tight and guarded. At her art show opening he’d seen glimmers of this old Lara. More than ever he wanted to catch the man who had crushed the free-spirited Lara.
He pulled a notebook from his breast pocket, scribbled a note, and handed it to the doctor. She glanced at it and nodded.
“Lara,” Dr. Granger said. “Let’s now fast-forward to you walking outside the club. You’ve had a couple of drinks, you are relaxed and you are so hopeful.” She glanced at the note. “Do you remember who was standing outside the club? Anyone that just for an instant caught your gaze.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “It was drizzling that night, so there weren’t many people. There were several cabs out front, the drivers behind the wheel. A couple walked past. They were huddled under hooded raincoats and hurrying.” She sighed. “There was a man standing under an awning. He was huddled under an umbrella, and his collar was turned up. He was looking in my direction.”
Beck nodded to the doctor, silently encouraging her to continue asking about this man. “What caught your attention about this guy?”
“He had an umbrella, not a rain jacket with a hood. Tourists carried umbrellas, the locals wore jackets with hoods all the time because it rained most of the time.”
“Take a moment to focus on this man. What did he look like?”
“His face was turned down, and his jacket collar up.”
Beck scribbled a list of questions and handed it to the doctor. “What was the color of his jacket?”
“Black.”
“Did the jacket have a logo?”
“Something in red on the sleeve, but I didn’t get a good look.”
Dr. Granger nodded. “What about his hair? Was it long or short?”
“Short. Light color. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he was tapping his toe. He looked like he was waiting for someone.”
You, Beck thought. He could have been waiting for you.
“What else was he wearing?”
“Jeans and boots.”
Dr. Granger glanced at her list. “When you got into the cab, what did he do next?”
“Once I was in the cab and settled I glanced back out at him.
I guess I felt sorry for him. He was running to the cab behind mine.”
“Did you get a better look at his face?”
“He was still holding his collar up. I couldn’t see his face at all.” Her head cocked and she sat up.
Beck jotted down notes. Tourist. Blond. Midsized. Black jacket. Red logo.
“The cab took you back to your apartment?” Dr. Granger said.
“Yes. I got out of the cab and hurried through the rain to the entryway. As the cab pulled off I was fishing my key out of my purse. I always had my key out, but I’d forgotten that night. I was pretty tipsy. Before I could get it out . . .” She stopped and her breathing grew shallow.
“What happened?” Dr. Granger said.
Lara raised fingertips to her lips. “Someone pressed a rag to my face.” Panic sharpened her tone. “The smell was awful. And then everything went dark. The next thing I remember is the hospital.”
Beck motioned to the doctor. He wanted to ask the next question. The doctor hesitated and then nodded.
He leaned forward, his knees nearly pressing against hers. “Lara.”
Tension rippled through her shoulders and her breathing slowed.
“Lara, it’s Sergeant Beck.”
Her frown eased.
“In the dream you had the other night, you said there was a man. The man commented on your white dress.” He didn’t mention the sexual assault, fearing she’d shut down.
She smoothed her hands over her jeans as if it were the imagined white dress. “He liked the white dress.”