The Seventh Victim

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Book: The Seventh Victim by Mary Burton Read Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Burton
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Romance
slowly watching her fade away? She glanced at her hands, wondering where she’d scratched him. She prayed it had hurt him like hell.
    Lara could not remember.
    A honking horn from the highway snapped her back to the present. Sweat dampened her brow and the sun had left her pale skin pink. “Lincoln!”
    The dog appeared over the ridge and ran toward her. The two hurried to her truck, where she replaced her camera in its bag and then filled a water bowl for Lincoln. Her hands trembled slightly as she held her own bottle to her lips and drank. The liquid cooled her body temperature but did little to ease her nerves. She did not like this place, though at dusk she would return to shoot the same scene in the fading light.
    And so here she was, trying to put down roots, let go of the past, and live. She glanced toward the yellow tape and the grass that looked a little matted.
    Here she was.
    But where was he?
     
     
    Beck spent the better part of the day reading the Raines file on the Seattle Strangler. The case files were detailed and precise. The observations were thoughtful. Raines had not taken any shortcuts. There was no doubt that Raines had been one hell of a cop.
    As he’d sipped a fresh cup of coffee, he studied a seven-year-old picture of Lara that had been taken right after the attack. It was rough. Not only was her neck black and blue, but also her eyes were so bloodshot their vivid blue was lost. Notes indicated that an internal examination confirmed rape, though no semen had been found in or on her body. There was DNA under her fingernails, but the sample didn’t match any known DNA on file.
    Anger twisting his gut, Beck closed his eyes and rubbed calloused fingers over a brow. He willed memories of the gun-toting Lara Church to elbow aside images of the sad, broken woman in these police photos. Seeing any woman hurt bothered him. Seeing Lara Church bruised and battered cut deep.
    His phone rang, pulling his thoughts back. “Beck.”
    It was the officer at the front desk. “There’s a guy named Raines out here to see you.”
    Beck pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not have time for this guy. However, to ignore him invited trouble. “I’ll be right down.”
    He rose, rolled down the sleeves of his white shirt and fastened the cuffs, and slid on his coat. He took the elevator down to the lobby and found Raines talking to the officer on duty.
    Raines was relaxed as he and the duty officer shared a joke.
    “Raines,” Beck said.
    The detective looked up, wished the officer behind the desk a good day, and moved toward Beck with a confident stride. He’d showered and shaved and was alert.
    Beck extended his hand toward a bank of chairs in the lobby. “Raines, caught any sleep?”
    He eased into a chair as if he owned the place. “You get caught up on your rest while you were on leave?”
    Beck sat down, irritation snapping. “Been doing a little homework.”
    Raines grinned. “For what it’s worth, I’d have done the same if I were in your shoes. You shouldn’t have been benched. I’d have kept trailing Dial.”
    Beck didn’t need Raines’s approval. “Others didn’t see it that way.”
    Raines was relaxed as if they were old friends. “Fuck the rest. You got justice for that kid and put that piece of garbage in the ground. That’s what counts, not the shit the media spins.”
    “You’ve had your issues with the media.” The statement didn’t require research. If he’d been lead investigator on a serial murder case, the press would have been all over him.
    “I have.” He shook his head. “And if you end up with more strangled bodies, you’ll learn how hellish the press can make your life.”
    “What’s the point of this chitchat?”
    Raines chuckled. “Direct. Good. Saves time. Did you go and see Lara Church?” His voice sounded crisper, stronger and all business.
    “I did.”
    “And?” Raines spoke to him as if they were partners.
    “And nothing I can discuss.”
    “Ah, come

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