*****
Representative Gerald Derby’s Lawn - Saturday, 5:55 a.m.
“It wouldn’t have mattered who told him. It would have gone the same way,” Williams said.
“Yeah, probably,” Beck returned.
“Nash…” Head shaking, Williams stared into her, as if trying to see all the parts he didn’t get yet. “How could you have known this? That Derby was innocent? That he would be the next victim? That this wasn’t a suicide?”
Beck knew Williams wasn’t asking because he didn’t believe her. He was asking because he did.
Her own head shaking in response, Beck couldn’t tell him exactly, because she didn’t know. She had never known. Certain aspects of human nature were like a sixth sense for her. One she never asked for, and didn’t particularly want.
“You know that guy who says it takes ten thousand hours to become expert at something?” she asked.
“I think I’ve heard something like that,” Williams said.
“I put that time in by kindergarten.” It was the only explanation Beck had ever come up with. Nurture over nature. Cause and effect.
“So, things weren’t just rough in the neighborhood,” Williams inferred from what little she had said. “They were rough at home too?”
“You could say that.”
“How rough?”
Staring into dark eyes, Beck wanted to trust him. She wanted to put as much faith in Williams as he had put in her. She wished she could. But a deep understanding of the worst aspects of human nature wasn’t the only thing she carried with her.
“I like you, Kevin. You’re a great cop, and I think you’re going to be a great partner. I have your back. I will keep your secrets. But I don’t know you like that.”
Nothing more to say, and not a thing inside she wanted to deal with at the moment, Beck continued across the lawn to where her car waited against the curb. Knowing there would be consequences for every choice she made, both that day and in the days leading up to it, she decided to let them come later as she turned the key in the ignition and escaped into the night.
*****
You have reached the end of 21 Weeks: Week 3. The story continues in 21 Weeks: Week 4, released wide on January 1, 2016.
For information on all books in the series, visit https://www.lasheathrillers.com/
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Teaser for 21 Weeks: Week 4
Las Vegas Crime Lab - Tuesday, 1:00 p.m.
Car completely dismantled, pulled apart piece by piece, piles of like components spread across the floor like a junkyard hardware supply.
Broken glass.
Dented steel panels.
Blood-stained seats.
Lieutenant Dillinger on-site when they got there, Beck would have turned around and come back later if time wasn’t of the essence. Since it was, she continued to the heart of the bustling lab and up to the man who’d come across as more of a hard-ass than Bishop the last time they’d all been in the same room together.
“Detectives, what do you need? As you can see, we’re kind of busy here.” Dillinger greeted them with all the warmth of an industrial freezer.
“We were hoping you’d be able to give us something,” Beck said. “Do you have anything yet?”
“Nothing cut, clipped, or frayed,” Dillinger responded. “Aside from falling off a cliff, the vehicle was in good condition. Right now, it looks like an accident.”
“But we know it wasn’t.”
“That doesn’t change the way it looks,” Dillinger said. “Once we go over all of this, maybe we’ll find something, but that’s going to take time.”
“How much time?” Beck knew she shouldn’t push. A man who clearly did not like having his authority questioned, Dillinger stopped with his fleeting glances of indifference and trained his eyes on her fully, as if in disbelief she had the nerve to ask.
“As long as it takes,” he said. “Everyone here is doing their jobs, as you can see.”
“I’m not trying to be a pain,” Beck said.
“Just a natural state then,” Dillinger uttered, and Beck chose to ignore it on behalf of the greater good.
“The more you can tell us now, the better chance we have of getting ahead of this guy.”
“I know how investigations work, Detective.”
Not this investigation, Dillinger didn’t. Because, despite Beck’s meltdown in the foyer of Representative Derby’s home the week before - which most people on the scene didn’t hear, and those who did hear didn’t comprehend - their colleagues had yet to be told they were looking for a serial killer. Without that essential information, Dillinger could think he knew all he wanted, but he didn’t know enough.
“Do you have anything at all?” Beck appealed to him again.
“Just an inventory of the car when it came in.” Dillinger stepped back to retrieve it from a clipboard on the wall. “Settings on the dash. Measurements of fluids.” Something catching his eye, he turned to grab a plastic evidence bag from the stack on a nearby table. “Here. This was connected to the aux jack.”
Bag tossed her way, Beck looked to the cracked MP3 player through the clear plastic as she caught it.
“See if you can figure out what happened by the vic’s taste in music.”
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