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…”
28
The cemetery had been hot as hell, the July sun unmerciful and the humidity about as high as it could get, but nothing could have kept Beck from standing next to his friend until her casket was lowered into the ground. Even after the other mourners had gone, he’d returned, and stayed by the hole in the ground until it was filled. When the dirt atop the grave had been tampered down, the men assigned to the task had nodded to him, and left him there.
The world was not a good place, it occurred to him, when a woman like Lisa could fall in love with a psychopath like Todd Singer, and be murdered for it. She’d been a great friend, a great cop.
She’d even been a great wife to that murdering bastard.
His thoughts still dark, he walked back to the station. His Jeep had been released, but today he needed to walk off some of the anger. Besides, it was too quiet back at the station, with Duncan and Lisa gone. Mia, too. Her cousin had arrived in St. Dennis within an hour of Beck’s rescuing her from the bank, and had taken her away, just like that.
Well, she was a fed. Of course they were going to want to take care of her. Her statement had been taken and faxed to him. He wouldn’t really have cause to speak with her again until Todd’s trial. Assuming there was a trial…
He took the long way back, sticking to the side streets that led close to the river and wound around behind the municipal building. It seemed that the entire town had turned out for Lisa’s funeral, but he had no desire to bump into anyone right now. He knew from past experience that those who hadn’t gathered at Captain Walt’s to rehash the service and discuss who gave the most moving memorial would be at Lola’s doing pretty much the same. He’d just as soon keep to himself for a while. He’d had enough of the press coverage-the ever-present television cameras and the print reporters-to last a lifetime.
The frenzy had started at almost the same moment that he’d brought Mia out of the basement of the bank. Someone had picked up the radio call for backup, and for the past four days, images of Mia in Beck’s shirt being led to the waiting ambulance were juxtaposed with pictures of a handcuffed Todd Singer being led to a waiting cruiser by Hal on one side and Susan on the other. The papers doled out bits and pieces of the story in screaming headlines from, Bayside Heir Serial Killer! to, FBI Beauty Intended Victim! Bank Chamber of Horrors-Nine Unidentified Bodies Found in Vault!