The Seventh Victim (Texas Rangers 1)

“I get out at eleven on Wednesdays. That gives me time to work the lunch rush here.”

“When do you graduate?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“And what’s after that?”

She shrugged. “I’ll know when I get there.”

Patrons at other tables were already vying for Danni’s attention, and the diner’s owner was watching them.

As Lara stared at Danni she saw her younger self and couldn’t help but remember her high school days. Transient. Uncertain. Lonely. She’d make a point to talk to the kid more in the coming days and see if she could find out more. “What’s the vegetarian special today?”

Danni shook her head. “If you weren’t in Austin you’d get laughed out of any self-respecting Texas eatery.”

Lara grinned. “You might be right. Does that mean there’s no special today?”

“Nope, Mack has done a black beans and rice. He’s also stuffed zucchini with white beans. And it’s decent.”

“I’ll have the beans and rice, a side of bread, and a tossed salad.”

“That’s a lot of food.”

“I’ve been working in the darkroom and haven’t had time to stop and eat. I didn’t realize I was starving until about an hour ago.”

“Well, I’ll get that bread and salad right up.”

“Thanks.”

Danni returned minutes later with a side of hot bread and a garden salad with dressing on the side. “Anything else I can get you?”

She picked up a chunk of bread and tore it. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed your work this semester. You’ve got a great eye for light and composition.”

Danni’s gaze brightened. “Thanks.”

“You said on your student survey form that you’d never taken photography before.”

“Nope.”

“You must have dabbled in it.”

“No. Didn’t pick up a camera until I bought the one I have in class.”

“Amazing.”

“What can I say?” Her attention drifted as a man at another table flagged her. “Got to go. See you soon.”

Lara had eaten her bread and salad when Danni returned with the plate of black beans and rice. To her amazement, she was still hungry. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Ms. Church, if you ever go out into the field with that crazy camera you showed the class I’d love to tag along.”

She’d never taken anyone along before. But she liked Danni and wanted to encourage her. “How old are you?”

Without blinking Danni said, “Eighteen.”

Lara smiled. “I’ve got access to my student’s birthdates.”

Danni shrugged. “So I’m weeks away from eighteen.”

“Can you get written permission from your mother to work with me in the field?”

“Sure,” Danni said easily. “Mom loves that I’m taking the class.”

Lara searched her gaze wondering if she should take the kid with her. “I’m working on a series of photographs.” An image of Beck’s grim face flashed in her mind. He’d be pissed if he knew she planned to return to the site. “The set I took this morning were good, but I wanted to shoot it at sunset.”

Danni shrugged, but there was a spark of interest in her eyes. “Where?”

“It’s a site off the interstate. If we leave after lab today and make a quick stop at my house for the equipment, we could get the shot.” If caught, Beck would hang her out to dry, but she was certain he’d leave Danni alone.

“Sure. See you then.”

“Great. But you’ve got to get a note from your mother.”

“No worries. I’ll see her right after my shift today.”

The pictures Lara had taken this morning had turned out better than she’d expected. There was no need to return to the site. So why return? Maybe she wanted to encourage a bright student. Maybe it was because Beck had told her to stay clear. Or maybe, just maybe there was a key that could unlock her memory.

The drive to San Antonio took Beck just over an hour. He arrived at the small rancher-style house that Lou Ellen Fisk had rented the last six months of her life. The front yard was mostly dried weeds, and last summer’s heat had cracked the cement sidewalk in a couple of places. Yellow crime scene tape still sealed the front door.

Beck had requested financial information from Fisk’s and Hart’s banks but didn’t expect a report until later today or tomorrow. When he’d called Santos and asked to see Lou Ellen Fisk’s place he’d learned that the local cops had kept the apartment sealed. He still didn’t have a solid link between the two victims, but the more he learned about them the more he hoped to learn about their killer.

Minutes later Deputy Santos pulled up behind his vehicle. He slid out of his black SUV, squinting against the afternoon sun as he put on his hat. The men nodded a greeting, as both moved toward the front door.

Santos fished keys out of his pockets. “The locals went over the Fisk site with a fine-tooth comb and didn’t find anything.”

“No penny?”

“Nothing. Though it was clear someone had been to the site. Footprints everywhere.”

“Lara Church was there early this morning.” Irritation rumbled under the words.

“Really?”

“DPS officer spotted her parked by the murder scene and called me. She was loading up camera equipment.”

“Got a sixteen-year-old sister who’s into art. She was talking about Lara Church’s show this morning. Mark of Death. Hell of a theme. I said no.”

“You don’t want to go to an art exhibit?” Beck teased.

“No way in hell, and I’m sure not letting Maria drive up to Austin alone to see the show.”

“Good call.”

Santos searched the ring of keys. “A part of me hopes the cases aren’t linked.”

“A serial killer opens a whole new can of worms.” Beck pulled down the crime scene tape. “Let’s see what we can learn about Ms. Fisk.”

Santos nodded toward the house. “Ms. Fisk moved in here about four months ago.”

“Did she have roommates?”

“There was a gal scheduled to move in this month, but when Fisk was found dead she changed her mind. In fact, she moved back to Oklahoma.”

When the door swung open, Beck and Santos pulled on rubber gloves. He found the light switch controlled an overhead bulb that spit out enough light to illuminate the main room. From what he could see, the place was a mess. Clothes, blankets, pizza boxes, and magazines littered the floor. A couch in the center of the ten-by-fifteen room was stained and covered in more junk. To the left was a small kitchenette and to the right a small bathroom.

“This place reminds me a lot of the first apartment I shared with a couple of guys after Basic,” Santos said. “Hell of a mess.”

Beck moved into the kitchen and glanced at the dirty dishes piled in the sink. He opened the refrigerator, winced at the smell, and discovered ten beers, a couple of yogurts, and a half-eaten pizza.

“I read the Seattle case files,” Beck said. “The Seattle victim profiles were different than Fisk and Hart. None were in college. In fact, several never graduated high school and a couple had arrest records for prostitution. They didn’t have much in the way of a future.”

“Lara Church had a future.”

“That changed after the attack.” Violence had stripped away her dreams.

Beck turned his attention to a round table covered with papers and bills. “From what Lara’s police file says, she wasn’t the ghoul she is today. Before her attack she wasn’t obsessed with death. She was in fashion design and had plans to work with a Seattle design firm. After the attack she gave up fashion and turned to photography. Left the Pacific Northwest for good.”

“Understandable.”

He picked up an envelope marked OVERDUE. “Raines’s initial notes theorize Lara faked amnesia. Later his notes are less sure.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.

She’s done a good job over the last seven years of running. She’s been all but invisible.”

“Running from shadows or a real man?”

“She says shadows.” Beck frowned. “Now she’s coming back into the spotlight and there are more murders. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Beck foraged through the papers on the table. They looked like a collection of work sheets from class. “She was taking a biology class.”

Santos nodded as he checked his notes scribbled on a pad. “She was also taking accounting. Had an A in both classes. Both her teachers considered her a solid student.”