Chapter Twenty-Four
River opened the Malibu’s passenger door and stared as Vicki extended one long leg into the sharp morning sunlight. Exiting the car, she stood fidgeting next to him on the sidewalk. He perused every dip and curve. Mercy, after what they’d done the night before and the scant hours of sleep they’d stolen, how she continued to look so beautiful bewildered him.
“I feel silly walking into a diner wearing a dress like this.” A shy smile touched her lips, and she ran her hands over her waist, smoothing invisible wrinkles. “I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Ridiculous.” Placing his hand against the small of her back, he scooped her into his arms, capturing her mouth and tasting the coffee he’d brought her in bed earlier. “But if you’re worried, I can take you back to my house, and we can spend the entire day in bed.”
“Tempting.” Her eyes glittered with desire, and his pulse jumped. “But I promised Becca we’d meet her and Lenny for breakfast. And she went to a lot of trouble to bring me a change of clothes.”
“See, that’s where your artist friend and I differ. Becca brings you clothes.” He kissed her again. “I prefer you without.”
Giggling, she pushed against his chest. “Down, boy.”
“I’m just saying, is all.” Grinning, he wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her toward the entrance. Of course, if she had said yes, he would’ve had her back in the Malibu in a flash. But she held her friendship with Becca in high regard, and he appreciated it.
When River opened the shop door, delicious scents of fresh-baked bread teased his nose. His stomach growled. The soft clatter of dishes and silverware along with the sizzle of bacon hitting the hot grill filled the air. Patrons lined the counter, smartphones in hand. Light conversations coursed through the shop like background music.
“There they are.” Linking her fingers with his, she led him to a table near a window.
Becca and her reporter sat together, staring at a laptop. Their heads inches apart, they spoke in muffled tones. When Lenny glanced up and spotted Vicki and River, he closed the computer, concealing whatever might be on the screen. River studied their faces. What are those two up to?
“Ah, now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Lenny’s eyebrow peeked above his round glasses and a smirk twisted his mouth. “I see you two got a little somethin’ somethin’ in the late-night hours.” He pumped his arm in a crude gesture. “And might I say, Victoria, you are lookin’ fine this morning.”
Stumbling to a stop, her cheeks and chest flushing, Vicki glared. River shot the idiot a warning stare.
Becca laughed and slapped the reporter’s shoulder. “Lenny. Stop it.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” He faced her, wide-eyed, and gestured toward Vicki. “She does look great.”
Bracelets jingling, her friend grabbed a satchel from beside her chair. “I’ve got everything you need right here.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the bag.
“I’ll go with you.” Becca turned to Lenny, wagged her finger. “And that’s not the way you compliment a woman.”
“What?”
With a snort, she took Vicki’s arm and propelled her toward the ladies’ room.
River sat across from Lenny and waited for the reporter’s attention to return from Becca’s retreating backside. When he twisted back around, the longing in his eyes hinted he might not have worked past her defenses yet. His drawn brows also alluded he knew a good thing and was terrified of screwing it up.
Amused, River smirked. Yeah, he’s got it bad.
Lenny clutched the sides of his laptop. “Man. The guy who dumped her at the altar was an idiot.”
A willowy waitress set two mugs of steaming coffee on the table and smiled at River. “What can I get you, sugar?”
He had no idea what Vicki might want. “We’re not quite ready to order yet.”
“Well, my name’s Shelly. You just let me know when you’re ready, hon.” With a nod, she headed to another table.
River glanced at the bathroom door the women had disappeared through. How long would they be in there?
“So, did you find anything on my memory card that Detective Dauscher took?” Lenny pushed his glasses up his nose then drummed his fingers on the laptop.
Unfortunately, seizing the camera card had done little in moving the investigation forward. There had been no picture of the mysterious Matthew. River had ended up working with a sketch artist at the police station for over an hour and had almost been late to his dinner date.
“Just a lot of unflattering pictures of Vicki.” He reached for his cup.
Lenny stared out the window, his eyebrows knitting. Guilt. Good to know the guy has a conscience.
“Do I get it back?” He shrugged. “I’m already using my backup card, but those things aren’t cheap.”
“Sure. Can’t guarantee there’ll be anything on it, though. My partner’s a proponent of returning items in pristine condition.” River drank the robust coffee and gestured toward the laptop. “You on the Internet?”
“Yeah. Most of the places around here have Wi-Fi.” He opened the computer, tapped a few keys.
“I need a word translated.” The last message the copycat killer had left held a clue. River paused, trying to remember the word scrawled in thin black pen. “Licentia. I don’t know if that’s the right pronunciation or not.”
“Sounds like Greek or Latin.” Rapid tapping ensued, the reporter intent on the computer screen. “Latin. Licentia. Means license, leave, authorization, freedom, or liberty.”
Freedom. The word reverberated in River’s mind. Does the killer believe himself free from repercussions, or is he attempting to free someone…or something? His gut tightened. And why flaunt the information in a message?
“That what you were looking for?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” River drank his coffee and tried to get inside the killer’s head. Why does the Valentine Killer mean so much to Matthew? There must be a connection.
“Did some other digging you might be interested in.”
“That so?”
“Yeah.” Lenny typed on the keyboard, a glint in his eyes. “Did a search on the weird symbol you found at the theater murder, a pointed D. Came up with this.” He swiveled the computer around so River could see. The Valentine Killer’s mark blazed on the screen.
A chill shot up his spine, his gut twisted. He downed more java to hide his reaction. “What about it?”
Lenny pointed at the screen. “That’s your guy’s signature.” He met River’s gaze and must have realized he’d crossed a line, because he leaned back and held up his hands. “Hey, man, Rebecca told me about it. She saw it over at the theater where the carriage driver was found murdered.”
He ground his molars. Damn it. A critical piece of the killer’s routine is no longer secret.
“But don’t worry.” The guy adjusted his glasses. “I haven’t told a soul. I swear. I just want one thing in return for my silence.”
He leaned toward the reporter, revealing all the malice he’d locked inside with one murderous glare. “And what might that be?”
“S-story.” Lenny slid back in his chair. “I want to tell the story. Maybe write a book.”
“A word of this gets out, and I’ll lock your ass up.” He pointed a finger at him. “Forget the paperwork for impeding an investigation. You’ll just come up missing.”
His eyes widened. “I swear. Not a peep.”
Damn it to hell. How am I supposed to trust a guy who writes outlandish stories for a UFO tabloid? “Tell me what you know.”
An uncertain grin crept across Lenny’s mouth. “So, I get it? I get to write the story?”
Against his better judgment, he nodded.
A victorious whoop erupted from across the table. “Oh, sorry.” The guy ducked his head, scanned the dining area. When he risked a glance at River, he froze. “Detective, you are a seriously scary man. Do they teach that at the academy?”
“Just tell me what you know,” he growled.
“Well, according to what I found online, the symbol is definitely satanic.” Lenny typed on the computer and brought up another site related to the pointed D. “The theory is it’s supposed to represent immortality. Crazy, I know. But according to what I read—and the info was sketchy, mind you—there’s this god named Thurisaz.”
“Thurisaz.” He let the sarcasm coat the word. He should’ve known a guy who wrote stories about Bigfoot for a living would dig up research to support the most outlandish angle.
Lenny straightened. “I know what you’re thinking. Seriously, I know what it looks like. Writing for UFOP wasn’t my goal in life, but hey, it pays the bills.” He tilted his head and grimaced. “Just forget about all that for a moment. Okay? This guy Thurisaz is one seriously evil son of a bitch.”
River drank his coffee, said nothing.
“The guy you’re after…the copycat killer? He doesn’t fear anything.” Lenny threw his hands up. “Why should he? He’s got the biggest, evilest bastard standing in his corner. This Thurisaz is the god of chaos and gives his hugest fans magical powers and shit.”
Magical powers? Shit is right. His cell phone vibrated at his waist. He checked the caller ID. and tapped the Talk button. “Chastain.”
“River, it’s Dauscher.”
“What’s up?”
“The waitress you had a tail on is gone.”
His jaw tightened, and the topic he and Vicki had disagreed about the night before whispered in his ears. Destiny.
“The….” Dauscher cleared his throat. “The officer watching her…? Hell, River. He’s dead. The bastard slit his throat.”
He closed his eyes, swallowed. “You there now?”
“Yeah. Sure could use your eyes on this.”
“I hear you.” He looked toward the restrooms just as Vicki and Becca exited—all smiles and bright eyes, appearing to have forgotten their quarrel from the day before about Becca’s choice in men. “I’ll call you from the car.”
He slipped the phone back into its holster and waved the waitress over to the table. “Can I get a coffee to go?”
“Sure, hon.” She sashayed behind the counter.
When he turned back, Vicki stood next to the table. The dress and heels were gone, replaced with jeans that hugged her luscious hips and begged to have his hands run over them. A sweet, low-cut top not just matched her eyes, but also displayed her ample breasts. Damn. He hadn’t even touched her and his heart raced.
She met his gaze, and the corners of her mouth dipped. “What’s wrong?”
Well, hell. When did she learn to read me? The waitress set a large white cup with a plastic lid on the table and rushed away.
“Becca, good to see you again. Lenny, thanks for the help.” He picked up his coffee and eyed Vicki. “Walk me out?”
Outside the shop, she touched his arm. “What’s happened?”
He opened the Malibu door, waited while she slid into the seat then walked around and entered on the driver’s side. He curled his fingers around the bottom of the steering wheel, and she sat quietly while he tried to figure out what the hell to say. Staring through the windshield, he struggled with what Dauscher had told him. If he told her the destinies she saw couldn’t be changed, he risked destroying the woman he’d come to care a great deal about. And what did that mean for Becca and Lenny?
She laid her hand on his shoulder, her touch bringing him around. Her gentle gaze caressed his face, calmed his nerves. Her lips parted.
“The waitress,” she whispered. “He got her.”
River nodded
She chewed her bottom lip. “What happened?”
“I don’t know yet.” He took her hands in his. “Dauscher just called, said the officer on duty had been murdered. I’m going to the scene from here.”
“What about…her?”
“We don’t know. She wasn’t there.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, bowed her head.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” A sigh shuddered through her. “It’s just the way things are.”
She’d handled the news better than he’d feared. She was made of sturdy stuff, and that was good. “I know you don’t want to, but I think you need to tell Lenny and Becca about your visions.”
She sighed. “It won’t make a difference.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It didn’t with the waitress.” She looked down at their intertwined fingers. “There was an officer, and the killer still got to her.”
“True.” Releasing one of her hands, he caught her chin and urged her to face him. “There are officers watching Becca and Lenny, too. So, why not stack the odds in their favor? Tell them.”
Uncertainty shadowed her eyes. “I don’t know.”
His cell phone vibrated, and he checked the caller ID. “It’s Dauscher. I’ve got to take this.”
She opened the car door, but he grabbed her hand again.
“Tell them, Vicki.”
She nodded and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
When the door slammed closed, he answered the phone while watching to insure she made it safely inside the diner. “Chastain.”
“Where you at, River?”
“Had a few things to take care of.” He ran a hand through his hair and forced away the guilt jabbing his gut. He’d tried to change destiny and failed. Taking a breath, he forced himself to focus and grabbed a pen and pad. “What’s the address?”