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“I have the fixings for coffee in my room.” She pushed a rogue strand of hair behind one ear and grinned. “I never leave home without my plunger. Give me five to take a shower.”
Styles breathed a sigh of relief and filled the air around him with steam. “Thanks.”
They were sitting in Beth’s room sipping a steaming hot brew when his phone buzzed. “Agent Styles.” He put the call on speaker.
“This is Sheriff Tucker out of River’s Edge. One of the locals spotted what he figured is a body not far from the highway. I’m on scene now. It looks like the missing girl from Roaring Creek, Cassidy Wilder. Sheriff Bowman gave me your number.”
Shooting a glance at Beth, Styles grimaced. “I’ll need the coordinates. Make sure no one, and I mean no one, goes near the body. I’ll have the medical examiner there ASAP. It’s going to take an hour or so for all of us to get there, so secure the crime scene. We’ll be coming by chopper. Is there landing space close by?”
“Yeah. Miles.” Tucker cleared his throat.“I found a casing alongside the highway. I bagged it.”He drew a ragged breath.“The girl is pretty messed up, beaten and a gunshot wound to the back of the head, same as the others.”
A murder scene was overwhelming and it broke many. He sighed. In fact, he wished he didn’t have to go and see the bodyeither. “I’m sorry you had to see that but it’s all part of the job, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”Tucker blew out a long breath.“I’ll send you those coordinates now.”He disconnected.
Moments later the message arrived with the details. He forwarded them to Beth and Wolfe. “I’ll go and do a preflight check on the chopper. I’m glad we found a place to refuel before we left last night.”
“I’ll contact Wolfe.” Beth gave him a long look. “You need to eat. You look exhausted.” She frowned. “Do you often binge drink like that?”
Styles drained his coffee cup, wishing it were ten gallons, and carefully shook his head. “Nope, not since the problems with my ex. I kinda went with the flow last night but I didn’t overindulge to that extent. I stopped at ten, just like you… well, I think I did.” He shrugged. “You didn’t do so bad yourself.”
“That’s because I poured most of my drinks into the planter. Not yours, by the way. I do have some ethics.” Beth chuckled. “Do you have a hangover? I have Tylenol.”
He shook his head. “Nope, I’m good, but you’re right, I do need to eat. I’ll meet you in the restaurant in fifteen minutes. Order for me. It will save time. Oh…” He stood and handed her his room key. “Can you feed Bear for me?”
“Sure.” Beth stroked the dog’s head, in its usual place resting on her thigh. “Wolfe, Bear, restaurant. Got it.”
Styles pulled on his jacket and gloves and headed to the chopper. It was strange not having Bear by his side, but part of him was happy his dog trusted his partner, and apart from him, Bear trusted nobody.
FOURTEEN
Running at dawn in freezing temperatures wasn’t Beth’s idea of fun but she needed the bite of the cold air in her lungs to keep her dark side at bay. After spending a backslapping, noisy evening with the boys in the local saloon, she’d returned to the motel and chased down the case in Mischief. The more she read the case files, the angrier she became. All the normal protocol parameters had been ignored. There were no first-on-scene reports, witnesses, or a basic timeline of events. In each case, the crime scene had been recorded with only two or three photographs. The medical examination of the bodies had been sketchy. She could hardly describe them as autopsies. The temperature of the bodies hadn’t been taken on retrieval and the time of death estimated between the time the girls went missing and when their bodies were found. As there hadn’t been many murders in Mischief over the years, she might put this down to the sheriff’s lack of experience, but after scanning the files from the basic crimes that had occurred over the last few years, it seemed that the stealing of a horse or cow was more important than the murder of a young woman. The case reeked of interference. Someone high up in the food chain was leaningon the sheriff to prevent them from revealing the killer. Perhaps the killer was one of the local councilman’s sons?
Running both hands through her hair, Beth sighed and sipped the coffee the server had brought her the moment she’d sat down. Covering up crimes of the rich and powerful wasn’t new, but it made those responsible as guilty as the perpetrator. Beth might well be a serial killer, but she’d never been corrupt. She followed a set of rules and stuck to them. The people she took down must be untouchable by law enforcement or have evaded justice. She must witness a crime or kill the perpetrator to prevent one happening before her eyes. Some might say her choice to put herself in the role of victim was irresponsible, but FBI agents and others went undercover all the time and put themselves in life-threatening situations. Her job was highly dangerous on a daily basis. Putting her body on the line for justice and killing in self-defense was something she could live with, and it made her different from all the rest of her kind.
She had no choice but to wait until the killer the media was now referring to as the Night Creeper, struck again in Mischief. The murder would come through the office as it was local, and she’d mention it to Styles and try and convince him that they needed to ask Wolfe to look at the body for similarities between cases. It was her only hope to walk into the rat’s nest, and lay baits to catch the killer. It had to be someone close to the investigation, either omitting or ignoring reports. She’d find him and the last person he’d see would be the Tarot Killer.
Dragged from her thoughts, she looked up from her laptop when the bell over the door to the restaurant tinkled and Styles blew in on a blast of freezing air. The room was empty. The round wooden tables, each with a menu, sat waiting for customers. She figured most people made their way to breakfast later or ordered room service, because there were vehicles outside the other rooms. She closed her laptop and waited forStyles to remove his coat, scarf, and gloves before he sat down. “Are we ready to go? Is the weather okay?”
“Yeah, it’s all good.” Styles looked at the menu. “What did you order?”
Beth tapped her finger on the menu. “The Miner’s Special. Sausage, eggs, breakfast potatoes, mushrooms, and grilled tomatoes.” She raised both eyebrows. “Orange juice and a gallon of coffee.”
“Perfect.” Styles yawned violently and covered his mouth. “Oh, sorry. Even the cold hasn’t lifted the cobwebs yet. I feel like I was drugged last night. How did we get back here?”
Raising an eyebrow, Beth stared at him. “We walked. Maybe you were more exhausted than you imagined. Add alcohol and the body just shuts down. I suggest an early night tonight. I figure once we’ve processed the crime scene and Wolfe has taken the body, we need to head home. I have the facial-recognition software running and it may have identified someone by now.” She shrugged. “If it offers us a few suggestions, we can make a list of potential suspects, and it will give us a starting point.”
“I’ve been thinking too.” Styles looked away to smile at the server who poured his coffee. “Leave the pot and keep it coming, please.”
“Hard night, huh?” The server puffed up her hair and gave him a wink before turning away.
“Do I look that bad?” Styles removed his hat, dropped it on the seat beside him, and ran both hands through his hair.
Beth blew out a breath and shook her head slowly. “No. She was probably thinking how good you looked. Now, can we forget about her and talk about what you’d been thinking about the case, Styles? You do recall the murders we’re investigating, right?”
“I recall them just fine.” Styles’ eyes twinkled with amusement. “So you think I look good, huh?”
Annoyed, Beth leaned forward and gave him her dark-side glare. “The case?”
