Mariah Stewart - Last Words

“No. Most of the prints are yours. One print is Mia’s, a couple are mine, probably from last week when we took the boat out. One print from the tarp doesn’t match any of us.”

“Todd’s, most likely. He sold me the tarp, he would have handled it. I can stop out later and get his prints, just to make sure, but I’d bet money they’re his.”

“He said something about driving their kids over to his sister’s in Annapolis today. You might want to try to catch him before he leaves.”

Hal glanced at the wall clock. “I’ll do that now. I want to talk to him anyway. He’s been after me for the past couple of years to sell him the Shady Lady . After today…well, I think I’m going to be looking for another boat. Doubt I’d ever set foot on that deck without seeing that poor girl, all wrapped up like that.”

Hal stood with his hands on his hips.

“God damn him, why’d he have to choose my boat?”

“He’s taking another shot at Beck,” Mia said from behind him.

Hal turned to her and asked, “Why?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that. Maybe he’s just pissed off and this is his way of giving him the finger. He’s showing you how clever he is, how slick, that he can get that close and still elude you. It was a risk, both times-leaving one body in Beck’s car, and another on your boat, Hal. Risk is essential to him, it’s vital.” She sat on the arm of the chair so she could face both men.

“Why?” Hal asked again.

“It ups the stakes.” She shrugged. “Then again, it could be something deeper than that, something far more personal.”

Beck leaned forward, his arms resting on the desk. “Dr. McCall said that, too. That she thought it could be personal.”

“Maybe somehow he holds you responsible for whatever kicked this off, and he’s sharing the spoils with you. Laying the victims at your feet, so to speak. ‘See what you made me do.’”

Beck ran a hand over his face. The expression on his face was pure anguish.

“If I thought for one second that something I did or said somehow kick-started this madness…”

“No, no,” Mia told him, “don’t buy into it. Whatever his thinking is, it’s strictly his choice, all the way. He has to explain his choice to himself, remember, he has to have an excuse that permits him to do these things. His thinking is twisted. He could just as easily be mentally pointing the finger at Mother Teresa or Madonna. Whatever it is, it only exists inside his mind.”

“So he rationalizes…”

“Absolutely. He has to. He has to justify his actions to himself. And remember, I’m just speculating. We don’t know that you have anything to do with his motive.”

“But your gut tells you…what?”

Mia thought it over for a moment before replying. “If he’d left the second body someplace else, I’d say the first time, leaving one of his victims in your car was a tweak.”

“But…?”

“But…leaving this one on Hal’s boat…I’d have to say, yeah, it’s more personal.”

“Maybe it’s because I was the chief before Beck,” Hal said. “Maybe it’s something to do with that, something to do with not liking the police.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s because you’re his father.” She looked from one to the other.

Beck stared at her without comment for several seconds.

“Bastard,” Hal said and started out of the room. “I’ll be at Singer’s if you need me.”

Mia turned to Beck. “If that trace is ready to go to the lab…”

“How did you know?” He asked when Hal was gone.

“Someone mentioned it,” she replied.

“Why?”

“In reference to why the body may have been left on Hal’s boat. Does it bother you?”

“Not really.” If he did, he’d already dismissed it. “I’m going to run out to the gym outside of town and see if Lisa’s still out there. She might have found some witnesses to interview, and I want to tell her about finding Mindy before she hears it on the news. Want to come along?”

“Sure…”

Mia drove, Beck’s Jeep still being impounded. He’d been meaning to call for a rental, but kept forgetting.

On their way out of town, Beck said, “By the way, I had a chance to go over the cell phone records for both Mindy and Colleen.”

“I take it there was nothing of any great use.” Her eyes shifted from the road to him and back to the road. “Assuming you’d have told me if there had been.”

“A few calls to a number that turned out to be…”

“Let me guess…untraceable.”

“Right. Damn those prepaid phones.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less from this guy. He’s certainly not stupid enough to call his victims from his home or work phone. Though that would have been nice.”

She turned onto the highway. “You’re going to have to tell me which way to go here.”

“Straight, then make a right at the second light into the shopping center, maybe a mile down the road.”

“How about the victims’ computers?”

“Nothing. I had hoped we’d find there was some Realtor’s website that one or both of them had visited, but there was nothing like that, and nothing out of the ordinary. No e-mails from a Realtor-legit or otherwise-or from any of the same contacts. Nothing that rang any bells whatsoever.”

He pointed up ahead. “The shopping center is at the next light.”

She put on her turn signal and pulled into the parking lot.

“Stay to the left,” he told her. “The gym is the last building.”

“I see it.” Mia drove around and parked in one of the spaces right out front. She got out of the car and glanced to her right.

“Is that Mickey Forbes’s sporting goods store?” she asked.

He nodded and pointed to the gym.

“First things first,” he said.

“I was just wondering if he was working today, if he’d seen Lisa.” Mia followed Beck through the automatic doors leading into the gym. “He splits his time between here and the car dealership, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t know when he’s where.” Beck walked up to the reception desk. “I’m Chief Beck.”

The young woman behind the desk looked from Beck to Mia. “Can I help you with something?”

“One of my officers was planning on stopping out here today. I had someone call as a follow-up a little while ago. He was told she’d been here.”

“Sergeant Singer.” The girl nodded. “She was in a few hours ago.”

“Do you know if she spoke with anyone here?”

“She spoke with me. She had pictures of those women who were killed, the two who weren’t members but who worked out here sometimes,” the receptionist told him in a hushed voice, as if almost afraid to speak of the dead.

“You recognized them?” Mia asked.

“Sure. The older one, the one who worked at Sinclair’s Cove? She used to come in and only use the treadmill. Never did anything else. The other girl, the one from Cameron, Mindy? She came in a few times, she tried everything a few times before asking for a form to apply for membership. She never did bring it back, though.”

“Did you ever see either of them together?”

“No.”

“Did you know Colleen Preston?”

“Sure.” Her face grew sad. “Everyone knew Colleen. She was real friendly. No one could believe what happened to her. It just made us all sick.”

“Did you ever see her with either of the other two girls? Or with anyone? Any of them work with one of the personal trainers?”

“No. Sergeant Singer asked the same thing. I never saw Colleen with anyone. She just came in after work, did her thing, then left. The other two were just sort of sporadic.”

“Did you notice what time Sergeant Singer left?”