Last Words

27

Beck was beat, hot, and angry by the time he got back to the station. There were circles under his eyes and an air of sadness about him.

“You hear from Duncan yet?” He asked Garland, who held up a hand in gesture to Beck to indicate he was on the phone.

“I’m sorry, but the department has no comment at this time,” Garland was telling the caller. “I will tell Chief Beck that, I certainly will. That won’t be necessary. I think he knows how to contact your station…”

Garland disconnected the call. “Unbelievable. I can’t understand how the word got out so fast.” He held up a handful of slips of paper. “Here. It isn’t that I don’t trust voice mail…”

“I’d rather have it written down anyway,” Beck told him as he scanned the messages.

“Chief, I can’t believe that Lisa…”

“Neither can I.” Beck started toward his office, then turned back and asked, “Where is everyone? Has Duncan turned up yet?”

“He called in a little while ago. He wanted to talk to you or to Agent Shields. She took the call. He said he was over at…”

The phone rang and he reached for it.

“Let it go. Duncan was where? We’ve been looking for him all day.” Beck walked back toward him.

“Duncan told her he was over at the old bank building on Locust and he wanted her to meet him there. She said he found something, she thought it might be the place where the killer kept his victims but the connection was bad so she wasn’t sure.” He shook his head. “Geez, Chief, I still can’t believe Mickey…”

“What time did she leave?”

“Oh, it couldn’t even be a half-hour yet.”

“Has she called in?”

“No.”

An uneasy feeling clawed at him. If Duncan had found something and Mia was with him, why hadn’t one of them called to let him know what they had?

“Get Susan, tell her to meet me there. And Hal. Get Hal over there.”

Beck went out the door and started across the parking lot. No car. He’d have to walk. With every step, his anxiety grew. Why hadn’t Mia called him?

Why hadn’t one of them called in?

He broke into a run. A few short blocks to the corner, one down Charles, a few more to the bank building. He was out of breath by the time he reached Locust Lane.

As he drew closer to the bank, he noticed three vehicles parked opposite the bank. Duncan’s patrol car. Mia’s Lexus. And another, partly obscured in front of the Lexus. The setting sun cast shadows on both sides of the street, so Beck had to step into the roadway to get a better look. He expected to see Mickey Forbes’s black Mercedes parked in front of Mia.

What he saw was Todd Singer’s black sedan.

Beck stopped in the middle of the street, piecing it all together.

Why wasn’t Todd home with his kids?

Why…?

Jesus God, if he had Mia…

“Son of a bitch,” he swore as he turned and ran toward the building. “You son of a bitch…”

He tried each door, as Mia had done. When he found the door at the back of the building open, he radioed back to the station and told Garland to get any available law enforcement agents-St. Dennis, Cameron or Ballard P.D. or the FBI, he didn’t care which-on the scene ASAP. Drawing his gun, he slipped inside the building, and went down the steps.

The door at the end of the hallway was partially open, and bright light spilled out on to the floor. Beck crept along the wall, hugging the shadows, his ears straining against the silence. As he came closer to the light, he heard a voice. He paused to listen. One voice or two?

One voice. Todd’s.

Then where was Duncan?

Beck stepped closer, closer. Still against the wall, still in the shadows, until he was close enough to see inside the room.

Mia lay naked on the bed, her wrists and ankles tied with straps that were secured to the bed frame. Todd stood with his back to the door. Beck knew he’d only have one chance to do this right. If Todd had murdered his own wife-if he’d killed the others-taking Mia’s life would mean nothing. In that moment, it occurred to Beck that to him, it meant more than he’d realized.

Todd leaned over Mia, and Beck saw his chance. He slipped through the door, his gun raised.

“Why Lisa?” Beck asked. “Why, Todd?”

“She figured it out. I know she did. She spent all morning at The Coffee Counter, someone would have told her.” Todd raised his head.

“Told her what?”

“That I knew the girls. That I’d been talking to them. She called me, said she needed to talk to me about something. What else could it have been?”

“I don’t know, Todd. What do husbands and wives talk about?”

“She knew. And it was her, or me.” Todd sneered. “It wasn’t going to be me.”

“How could you do that to your own wife?”

“Like I said-her or me…”

“How’d you do it, Todd?” Beck asked. “How’d you get to them?”

“The girls?” Todd turned to him very slowly. “Have you ever met a young girl who wouldn’t jump at the chance for a few days at the beach? Especially when the rent is ridiculously low…”

“You met them at The Coffee Counter. Nice friendly atmosphere, easy conversation…”

“Non-threatening, that’s the key, Beck.” Todd smiled. “You go in at the same time every day, you see the same people all the time. You chat a little, you develop a relationship, you understand?”

“So when you mentioned you had a beach house to rent out…”

“Like taking candy.” He nodded. “‘Gosh, the family we rented to for next week had to cancel, you know anyone who might like to get away for a few days? We kept the deposit, so we’d let them have it cheap if they promise not to tell anyone…’”

“And of course they bit.”

“Every time. Then it was just a matter of me meeting them someplace to turn over the key. A little Taser…a little rope…” He smiled. “Let the fantasy begin…”

“Fantasy time is over, Todd.” Beck took a step toward him. In a flash, Todd’s arm shot out, grabbed the chair and swung it at Beck’s head. Before Beck could get a shot off, Todd ran through a door in the back of the room.

Beck pulled the cloth from Mia’s mouth.

“Are you…?”

“Just get him…” she gasped.

Beck took a pen knife from his pocket and slashed the cords that bound Mia’s wrists, handed the knife to her, and then took off after Todd.

The hall leading from the room wasn’t lit nearly as brightly as the hall that had led into it. Beck paused on the other side of the door and listened. There, from off to his right, he heard a scuffling sound.

Cautiously, Beck proceeded toward the sound, trying to keep his back to the wall and his sight straight ahead while still being aware of either side. He entered another room, and hesitated, perhaps a moment too long. From out of the shadows, Todd lunged at him, slamming Beck against the door, knocking the gun from his hand. By the time Beck scrambled to his feet and found the gun, Todd had escaped through the open door.

From the end of the hall, he could hear the sound of running feet, then of a slamming door.

Then shouts…gunshots…silence.

Beck rushed back to the room where he’d left Mia. From the end of the hall, he heard voices. Hal, maybe. He prayed it was Hal.

He found Mia sitting up, hunched over on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head down. She was visibly shaking.

“Mia, it’s going to be all right now.” Beck unbuttoned his shirt as quickly as he could. “They have him. I’m pretty sure they have him now…”

He helped her into the shirt.

“I’m afraid it’s a little dirty. Maybe a little sweaty…” he told her, “but I don’t know where he put your things…”

As her arms slid into the sleeves, she looked up and said, “When I told Connor you’d have my back, I never expected you’d give me the shirt off it.”

She began to cry softly and tried to work the buttons, but her fingers were shaking too hard. “Get it? That’s cop humor. You gave me the shirt off your back…”

“Right. I got it.” He finished the buttons for her, then knelt on the floor next to the bed. He eased her head onto his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently. “I got it…”