The Sketcher's Mark (Lara McBride Thrillers Book 1) (17 page)

He had been reckless, impulsive, creating a domino effect that could destroy everything he had worked for to this point, a flirtation with self-destruction he could not afford right now.  Not this close.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  He took a deep breath, held it, releasing it slowly and straightening up inch by inch as the air left his body until he was at his full height and the pain was gone and his Aunts had melted back in to whatever netherworld they came from.  Suddenly, everything was alive to him, the world around him crackled with an energy he could feel flowing through him.

In that moment, he experienced a clarity he had not felt since he left the barn as a boy with the razor in his hand, determined to take back his life and make it his own.  He knew that his masterpiece would be complete on time and would be even more than the spectacle he had designed.  He knew that with absolute confidence.  And he knew that Lara McBride would come to him and he would be ready for her.

Chapter Thirty Four

Lara watched the train disappear in to the tunnel and turned back to see Beth holding Melinda’s limp hand on the steps.  She walked over slowly, in no hurry to be so close to death.  Here was a young woman who she had just spoken with only minutes ago and now here she lay, lifeless and bled out on the cold dirty steps of the Paris underground like a doll a child had dropped and left behind.  Lara felt the anger rise in her at the loss of another innocent and her own inability to have stopped it.  She hated feeling helpless, something that had been pulsing in her since she had boarded the plane at LAX.   Brouchard came down the steps with three Police Officers and a team of Metro Security Guards.

“He’s on the train,” she shouted to the Inspector.  “You have to shut down the next station,” she called, moving aside to let the Officers past her and on to the platform.

Brouchard surveyed the scene, the professional inside him switching on immediately.  Lara admired him for that- having a daughter of a similar age to the dead girl at his feet had to trigger something very powerful in him.  He began to give orders in French to the Officers and Security Guards, telling them to cover the body, secure the people who were down here to get statements and then he pulled up his radio to call for the next station to be shut down, nobody getting in or out, including trains.  His eyes went back to Melinda and Lara saw the wave of melancholy bloom across his face like blood clouding water. 

“He will slip through, most likely,”  Brouchard explained, his voice weary and his eyes unable to mask how tired he was.  “They’re still closing
this
station down. …”

Lara watched the Officers blocking off the platform.  She saw Beth still holding Melinda’s hand.  She looked at Jason, sat on the step above and behind Beth, staring right back at her with an accusatory look in his eyes.  She was no closer to getting Janelle back.

“Fuck!!!” she yelled, the noise echoing up and down the platform.  The Officers and some of the passengers looked at her in confusion.  A hole had been torn in reality and they had all been flipped through to the other side.  She had seen their look before.  It would pass.  Lucky for them, unlike her, she had to live in the carnage left behind.  She took a breath and walked over to Beth and Jason.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  She felt hollow, as though something personal had been stolen from inside her, another little piece of her soul.

“I thought you said he didn’t kill women,” Beth said.

“He doesn’t.  Not the ones he thinks are Angels.  Maybe he didn’t think she was one,”  Lara said, hoping the truth didn’t sound as brutal to them as it did to her.  She saw Brouchard further down the platform with Metro Police, pointing at the security cameras mounted on the walls.

“They’re gonna pull the CCTV footage,”  she said.

“Good.  We can get a picture of the guy,”  Beth sounded hopeful.

Lara smiled and nodded encouragement, just to give Beth something to hold on to.  Security camera footage was often grainy and too far away to be of any real use for identification purposes.  She looked at Jason, who sat in silence, watching what was going on.

“Thanks for the back up,”  Lara said.

“I wanted to help,” he muttered, annoyed with himself for not having done more.

“He was on that train.  I saw him.”

“You should have shot him,” Jason muttered.

“I don’t have a gun.”

“We can fix that,” he spat back.

Lara considered, leaned in closer, lowering her voice so only Jason could hear her.

“How?”

Chapter Thirty Five

Beth sat in the muster room of the Police station drinking a coffee at a desk by the window while Jason was lost in thought on the other side of the room, staring at the photos on the wall of the missing persons.  He hadn’t said a word since they had returned to the station.  In his office, Brouchard was finishing on the phone with the American Embassy. Lara sat at his computer looking over the surveillance footage from the St Denis and Chatelet platforms.   The images were as successful as she thought they would be- they gave her nothing.  The murder itself could not be seen, just the crowd of commuters moving across the platform, then the girl’s body falling backwards on the stairs as the crowd thinned out.  Whoever her was, he never raised his head high enough to be caught by the cameras.  Lara kept watching the playback a few more seconds until she saw herself show up on the platform.  Just a few seconds too late.  She would hate herself for that for a very long time.

“It was worth a shot to see if we could get a clean image of him. Let’s get your PhotoFit artist up here,” she said to Brouchard after he had hung up the phone.

The Inspector ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“The girl’s parents have been informed.  They’re on a plane already and should be here tonight.”

“Is the embassy taking care of that?”

“Of course; it’s their job.  As for the PhotoFit artist, she’s on her way in,” Brouchard said, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the desk.  He offered one to Lara, who took two as she stood up.

“I need to talk to Beth,” she said and walked out in to the main area.

Lara walked over to where Beth was sitting.  The rain spattered against the long window that ran the length of the room beside them, the city drenched in water and the sky stained with grey.  Beth looked up as Lara sat across from her.

“How you holding up?”  Lara asked.  “What’s going on in there?  You can talk about it if you want.”  Lara offered her a cigarette and Beth took it, her hands still trembling from the shock of it all.  Lara lit both hers and Beth’s cigarettes and they sat in silence for a few moments with the rain pattering away and their thoughts running around in their heads.

“It feels like somebody’s playing a game with my head,” Beth said, taking a gulp of the thick black coffee from the mug in her hand.

“I need you to walk me through what happened last night.  Top to bottom.  There might be something you’ve left out, something you didn’t mention that could be helpful.  Can you do that for me, Beth?”

“Sure.  And please don’t talk to me like I’m five years old.”

Lara laughed.  “Sorry.  I don’t mean it to come off that way.”

“Forget it.  What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with an overview.  Did you see anything you might call strange or out of place?”

“Have you ever been to a fashion show?”

“No.”

“It’s full of people who are strange and out of place.”

“Alright then, strike that question.”

“I got here and I didn’t know what I was doing and I just winged it to make it look like I knew what I was doing.  I’ve been terrified every time somebody talks to me like they’re gonna know I’m a fake.”

“You’re not a fake.  You’re doing great.  Most people would have folded by now.”

“I should have never let her go off with Fulvio.  I should have never gone back to the hotel without her.  She’d be alive right now if I hadn’t done that.”

“This man we’re after was drawn to her for reasons that only make sense to him and he did what he did regardless of anything you could- or
think
you could- have done.  Don’t let guilt get inside your head. It’s like dry rot in a house; once it gets in you start falling apart.”

“Did that ever happen to you?”

“Yes,” Lara said, remembering the woman with the shotgun at the ranch.  “Some people are plugged in to something in their own mental ether that we can’t ever explain or understand.  It only makes sense to them.  It’s like a stain on their soul.”

“How does it affect you?  I mean, you catch these people for a living.  I don’t mean to pry but how do you do it…?”

“Sometimes it drives you a little crazy, sometimes you just can’t be around people and live in regular life.  It just kind of infects you and I’ve seen people burned out by that. But feeling guilty about not having done enough to save someone is the first step down that road.  You can choose not to go there.”

“How’s that?”

“Because it’s not your job to stop them.”

Beth considered, took a drag of the cigarette, her eyes low as the words Lara had said settled in her mind and she tried to make sense of it all.  She looked up, a renewed determination in her eyes.

“So how do I help you catch him?”

“Close your eyes.  Try to visualize last night.  Don’t just remember it.  Try to
be
there in your mind.”

Beth closed her eyes, took a breath and took herself back to the museum. The show was still going, she was pushing through the crowd to get to the busy backstage area.

“I spoke to the designer we came here for. Melinda went to the bar.”  In her mind, she could feel being bumped by the many assistants and models bouncing around backstage.  She saw the designer’s face and heard her voice.

Behind her, Jason approached, curious, wanting to hear what she might say.

“She was in the crowd, lots of industry people, talkers, bullshitters, hangers on, people just trying to get lucky.  She met Fulvio, he was there, very handsome, I can smell his cologne.”

“Do you see the people in the crowd around you?” Lara asked.

“Yes.  Lots of beautiful people.  Lots of wannabes and hangers on.  The usual suspects except most of them speaking French.”

“What happened?”

“I had to call the office and tell them we got the designer.”

“You found a quiet corner somewhere?”

“There were no quiet corners.  I went upstairs through the museum, under the pyramid, up the escalators to the door.  Red carpet, photographers, people behind the ropes getting a look see.  It was chilly.  I had to get away from the people.”

“Where did you go?”

“Over the rope.  I told the security guard I was just making a call and I’d be back.  He was a big, tanned guy, maybe Algerian or something.  He just smiled.  I don’t think he knew what I was saying.”

“That’s good, Beth, really good.  You went over the rope…”  Lara prompted.

“The fountain was so pretty.  All the water jetting everywhere backlit so it sparkled.  I made the call, told the boss we hit the jackpot and he started talking promotion.  I hung up and I was so happy.  Maybe I wasn’t a fake, maybe I can actually do this.  The sketch artist asked me if I’d sit down for a minute while I just let it all sink in.  There were a lot of people in the square.  We talked and he gave me the portrait.  I went back inside, over the rope and down to the bar and met Jason and Fulvio.”

Beth opened her eyes.  She saw Jason and Lara were staring right at her, enraptured, knowing she wasn’t finished yet, even though she felt she had told them everything.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I remember.  What?  Why are you staring me like that?” she asked.

“Tell me about the sketch artist,” Lara said. 

“He was just sitting there.  I didn’t notice him until he spoke.  He was sketching me while I was on the phone and I sat for him.  We just talked about…things.  Life.  Special places where you can decompress and get away.  I guess we had a moment where we connected.  He had the most amazing eyes. I kept looking at his eyes because I felt rude looking at his face.”

Lara felt chills breaking out all over her.  Beth could see the change in her.

“Why didn’t you want to look at his face, Beth?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

“Because he had scars,” she said, seeing the way Lara’s body had tightened up, her left hand balled in to a fist now. 

“Was that him?”  Beth asked and Lara nodded.  

“Yes, it was.  That’s the man who killed your friend and has my sister somewhere.  You were sitting right next to him as close as we are right now.”

Beth felt nauseous.  She dropped the cigarette in the cup of coffee and stood.

“Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom,” she said and hurried out the door.  Jason looked over at Lara.  She shook her head at him, let her go and, reluctantly, he did.  Brouchard was standing in the doorway of his office, had heard everything.