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“The facial recognition came back with ten hits. I cross-referenced them with all forms of identification and added race and sex into the mix. We know this is a white guy. We can see his skin color around the balaclava.” Beth sipped her coffee and then placed the cup on her desk and stood. She went to the printer and collected four images. “I cross-referenced the names with people who worked in three main areas—the mines—as in transient workers who moved from one place to the next. Delivery drivers. Milk, bread, mail, and other various deliveries. Medical and drugstore supplies was one that Nate mentioned.”
Impressed, Styles nodded. “Ah, yeah, the PCR Clean link. You figure a delivery driver would have access to it?”
“Oh, it’s used in many places for cleaning.” She shrugged. “You might recall that I have some. I use it if I’m moving from one case to another. In my vehicle, for instance, so I don’t track DNA from one case to the next. It’s not difficult to come by.”
Styles walked beside her to the whiteboard. “So how many potential suspects are we talking about?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to four delivery drivers all with the same height and build.” Beth pinned images to the whiteboard and then picked up a pen. “Austin Buck. Delivers newspapers, magazines, tobacco goods, etcetera, to convenience stores across four towns.” She looked at Styles. “This is Wyatt Cody. He ownshis own online supply service here in Rattlesnake Creek, drives himself and supplies mining camps and local stores with a variety of goods.”
Rubbing the scar on his chin absently, Styles examined the images. “So you are set on believing the killer is a delivery driver?”
“It’s the best we have to go on right now.” Beth turned to look at him. “These four guys all move around the local areas and so would be the most likely suspects. Apart from actually getting names for you, I was able to hack into their work schedules. These guys all had the opportunity to commit the convenience store hits and abduct both of the most recent victims.”
Unconvinced, Styles shook his head. “They’ll need to have been in the vicinity at the times of the four holdups for anyone to look seriously at them for murder.” He sighed and pointed to the other two photographs. “What about these guys?”
“Same as the others, different jobs, is all. Billy Straus delivers medical supplies and pharmacy orders, mainly to the mines.” Beth made notes on the whiteboard. “Then we have Clay Maverick. He delivers milk all over four counties.” She turned to look at him. “All fit the weight and height, were in the area when the murders occurred, and came up as close matches in the facial-recognition results.”
Styles ran what she had said through his mind and held up a hand. “Just wind this back some. Did you say you’dhackedinto their private systems to discover their schedules?”
“It’s what I do.” Beth raised one eyebrow and shrugged. “Don’t come all legal eagle over me, Styles. You walk a fine edge between right and wrong to get things done and save lives all the time. I’m no different. It’s not like we’re taking these guys to court, is it? Well, not at this point in time.” She smiled at him. “Go with me with this one so we can move things along a little faster. We could wait a few days for a judge to issue awarrant and risk him hitting another convenience store or use the information from hacking the system. The end result is the same.” She turned to look at him. “Hacking a work schedule isn’t something we’ll need to present in court. If necessary, we can obtain that information from witnesses at the places the goods were delivered. Don’t sweat the small stuff, Styles.”
Holding up one finger, Styles met her gaze. “Is this something you did in cybercrime? I figured it was something different, more like cryptocurrency scams and the like.”
“Yeah, all the time. They needed me to discover information fast, like accessing CCTV cameras all over.” Beth shrugged. “I hacked personal CCTV cameras, nanny cams, for instance. The idea is to bring down criminals in any way possible. I use everything at my disposal to do my job.”
His way of working a case had just flown out of the window. Slightly baffled, Styles nodded. “Okay, so I’m guessing we’ll be interviewing these four guys. Do you have home addresses? It’s been a long day, but we need to catch this guy.”
“He won’t hit again so soon. We have a little time.” Beth rolled her shoulders. “I’ll work out where they’ll be and when they’ll do their drop-offs tomorrow. It would be better to catch them off guard at work, and it’s less lightly they’ll be carrying. Don’t you agree?”
Emptying his cup, Styles nodded. The confident, slightly arrogant Beth was firmly back in place. “Yeah, I do. Did you run a background check on these guys yet?”
“Not yet. I’ve been kind of busy.” Beth returned to her desk. She gave him a long look and then shrugged. “Anyhow, I figured I’d leave something for you to do before we head to TJ’s for dinner.”
NINETEEN
Mischief
It’s funny but I’ve always had the urge to video crime scenes from a distance and then play them back in fast-forward. It’s easy enough these days with micro cameras to place one or two just so, and nobody ever notices them. The everyday Joe in the street can purchase technology today a spy ten years ago could only dream of. Think about the smartphone and what it’s capable of doing now. How it can control just about everything inside your home and what it will be capable of doing going forward. For heaven’s sake, I can take a call on my wristwatch, and see if someone is at my front door. Five years ago that would have been science fiction. Now it’s usual.
I digress. It’s always the same when any law enforcement department is notified about a murder victim. Some passerby starts a hullabaloo and calls 911. The local patrol drops by and tramples all over the scene. Later, more cops arrive and trample all over the scene. The forensic team, if there is one, is next, and like ants they go back and forth, moving evidence from one place to the other. Next, an ambulance arrives and the bodyis ceremoniously carried out by men with grim faces. All act concerned, but do they really care or is it just another corpse dumped in an abandoned building?
The moment someone found the girl the deputies started complaining about being called out late at night. No one is really interested in seeing a dead body. Most of them just want to get the job done and get back home to bed. I know they wouldn’t raise a finger to identify the body tonight. Once they were done, they’d go on home and leave her in the morgue until morning. Once a doctor has pronounced her dead, as if that is needed, and the mortician has made her look presentable for the parents, they’ll pick straws to decide who will go and speak to the next of kin.
As the sheriff and deputies come out of the building, the men yawn and scratch, pulling gloves from their hands and tossing them onto the ground. Most look angry, not for the life lost but because the paperwork is piling up. I like to keep them busy because not one of them appreciates my work or recognizes the skill it took for me to lure the girl into the building. At the time, she made my heart race, and the rush of excitement when I killed her was intoxicating. To them, she’s just another dead girl, but to me… well now… she’s just another dead girl.
When I return home, I’ll watch them in the video, running fast as I speed up the playback. I’ll laugh at seeing their jerky movements but it’s never enough. The thrill is long gone and I crave more. It’s like trying to hold the finest wine in my hands. I want to catch it, savor it, but it runs through my fingers, leaving me with just a memory of the smell and taste. Watching them process the scene is always the same, like an anticlimax to a wonderful night. After a murder, the cleanup crew is nothing more than a garbage truck coming by to collect a bin overflowing with bottles and streamers left over from a great party.
TWENTY
WEDNESDAY
Rattlesnake Creek
Exhausted after a long day, Beth had parted company with Styles after dinner and headed to her apartment. She’d made a mental list of what to do the following day. The need to solve the case was eating at her. The moment she discovered another murder had been committed in Mischief, her dark side would be harder to control. Sometimes, her charismatic psychopathic serial killer persona would sneak right up on her and take over. She wouldn’t kill anyone, that part of her she could control. To Styles, she’d likely appear to be overfriendly, but in truth, the Tarot Killer wasn’t friendly. She manipulated people and the last person she ever wanted to control was Styles. Okay, she’d sown a few seeds about the Mischief murders, but in doing so, it actually brought him into the Tarot Killer’s investigation. Of course, he couldn’t be involved in murder, but by escorting her there, it gave her a valid reason to snoop. If she could prove there was a bad apple in the Mischief Sheriff’s Department, it would lead to the Night Creeper. From there, with Styles safely in a local motel, she’d deal with him personally.
This morning, the moment she set foot in the office, she’d pushed away all thoughts of the Night Creeper and concentrated on the convenience store murders. She’d easily hacked the local businesses’ computers and found the schedules for deliveries, cross-referenced them with the names of her suspects, and then made a list of their delivery routes. The list was practical but not immediate, and she wondered if Styles would agree to her proposed interview schedule. He’d had his nose stuck in his laptop since they’d arrived at eight this morning. She saved the list to her phone and looked up at him. “Unfortunately, the only way I’m able to coordinate the deliveries so we can talk to all of them today is after three. As it happens, they’ll all be stopping by Roaring Creek at various times this afternoon. Some have multiple deliveries around town, so we should be able to catch them.” She pushed a strand of hair behind one ear. “Or we take the chopper and dash between towns.”
“After three suits me fine.” He sighed. “I can’t find any priors of interest on any of them. So nothing there to go on.”
