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“I parked beside a Ram, but I don’t recall the others or how many.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking about cars just about getting home to watch football.”
There was that Ram vehicle again. She wrote fast and then looked at him. “What about Sunday night out at Roaring Creek?”
“I dropped by to grab a to-go cup of coffee for the road.” He shrugged and, dropping his boot from his knee, placed the cup on the table. “I saw the guy at the desk, is all. I don’t recall seeing anyone in the store and I don’t recall what vehicles were parked outside. I was tired and just wanted to get home.” He opened his hands wide. “I wish I could help but I have nothing.”
Beth nodded. “Are you married?”
“Oh, that’s a loaded question!” Cody barked a laugh. “Are you interested?”
Shaking her head, Beth caught Styles’ gaze on her from across the room. “No. I just wondered if you had an alibi for either of those nights. A wife or partner would do.”
“No wife, just my mom.” He sighed. “You could ask her, but she’s usually in bed by nine.” He gave her a long look. “You obviously have my address, so go and ask her. Be my guest.”
“Okay, that’s all I need.” Beth folded her notebook and placed it inside her pocket. “Thank you for your cooperation.” She stood, picked up her cup, and headed toward Styles’ table. Behind her, she heard the scrape of a chair as Cody left.
“There isn’t anything else I can tell you.” The fourth suspect, Billy Straus shrugged. “I was sick and someone else took over thedeliveries. I didn’t ask who it was. They just stepped in. I wasn’t in Roaring Creek or Broken Bridge on either of those days.”
“Is there anyone who can verify your whereabouts on those days?” Styles stared at him.
“My mom was sick too and my aunt dropped by with some chicken soup.” Straus shrugged. “You could ask her, I guess.”
“Give me her name and number.” Styles pushed his notebook toward him. He waited for the man to comply and then nodded. “Okay, thanks. That’s all for this time.”
Beth looked at Styles. “Cody was overconfident but gave some information. He lives with his mom, so we can check out his alibi. Although she goes to bed at nine, she might have heard him or knew if he didn’t go home that night.” She sighed. “It’s not even close to valid circumstantial evidence on any of our suspects. There could have been countless men around the convenience stores at the times of the murders. We can’t haul people in because they were in the vicinity. The only solid was the Ram truck. The thing is, I see that type of truck driving around all over, and we can’t haul every driver in for questioning. We’re chasing shadows.”
“Just a minute.” Styles stood and went to the coffee machine and poured a coffee before returning. “Okay, I’ve got nothing either. That guy was nervous and was sick over the times of the last shootings. I don’t think we need worry about him. In fact, as the other three cooperated and we’re not any closer to catching this guy, we have only one option.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “And that is?”
“We try and anticipate where he’s going to strike next.” Styles sipped his coffee. “He has a comfort zone. The local sheriffs can stake out the convenience stores.”
Shaking her head, Beth stared at him. “The convenience store was just that… convenient. Now he knows the FBI is on the case, he could strike at any store in any place. What would youdo, Styles? Follow a pattern or would you be smart enough to mix things up a bit?”
“Yeah, I’d mix things up.” He frowned. “So where do we go from here? We haven’t the manpower to watch every store in town.”
This had been in the front of Beth’s mind all day. She had no idea how to prevent another shooting. They were random and happened in seconds. The chances of being there when the shooting went down would be infinitesimal. “It’s an impossible task unless we had an army and then the shooter wouldn’t hit a place, would he? No one is that stupid. Our only chance is to figure out either where he takes the woman after the shootings or where he intends to kill her. He has chosen places along the county border.”
“So you figure we do nothing, allow more innocent people to die and then try and get to him before he murders another woman?” Styles shook his head. “You’re batshit crazy.”
Seeing his confusion, Beth shook her head. If he wanted a show of empathy, she could do that, although in truth, her detachment kept her dark side under control, but she couldn’t use that as an excuse. “I’m not saying we do nothing, Styles, I’m saying we’re only two people and we can’t possibly cover four counties in the hope we might hit the lottery. It’s an impossible task.” She sighed. “Of course I don’t want him killing again. Do you honestly believe I’d stand around and do nothing if I could stop him? I want to catch him before he kills again, but we both know the chances of that are remote.”
“Yeah, they are.” Styles ran a hand through his hair. “It will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Nodding, Beth swallowed hard. “This guy is going to keep doing this, you need to face facts that we can’t stop him until we work out who he is or where he intends to strike next. We can send out a media release so people are aware of thedanger and take precautions, but that’s all. I can try something. I’ll run a probability algorithm. I’ll feed in all the information on the places he executed his abducted victims and get the probabilities. When he abducts another woman, we can use the chopper and be there before he has the chance to kill her. From what we’ve seen, part of his fantasy is to let them go and then shoot them. So he needs an open secluded area close to the county border and one he hasn’t used before, close to a road.” She turned her coffee cup around in her fingers. “Yes, people could die. I want to avoid that happening as much as you do, but if you plan on catching this guy, this is our only chance.”
TWENTY-SIX
THURSDAY, WEEK TWO
Black Rock Falls
The following morning, Styles headed the chopper toward Black Rock Falls. Leaving a case hanging played on his mind. Overnight he’d mulled over Beth’s conclusions on the Convenience Store Killer case and reluctantly agreed to concentrate on the Night Creeper case for a day or two. In truth, they had no way of catching the Convenience Store Killer in the act or preventing another mass shooting. The previous evening Beth had set to work, and they’d left her computer running her specially designed software to give them a better chance of anticipating his next move. It was a shot in the dark, but it was all they had right now. He’d called all the local sheriffs and instructed them to send out media releases to warn the local residents a gunman was a threat to their communities. There was always a chance, if the shooter struck again, one of the townsfolk would step in and take out the gunman. It had happened before when lives were threatened. Styles’ pride at being able to protect people had taken a bashing with this case. Feeling useless in this type of situation wasn’t part ofhis character and it was intolerable. He forced his mind away from the probable senseless deaths of more innocent people and back to the Night Creeper case. Beth’s concern of a cover-up by someone in the sheriff’s department left a bad taste in his mouth, but from what he’d seen so far, it was the only solid explanation for the Night Creeper’s continued reign of terror around Mischief.
He landed and powered down the chopper. As he gathered his things he noticed Beth had only removed her headset and was staring straight ahead, shoulders rigid. He frowned and looked at her. “Ready?”
“Is it something I said?” Beth turned in her seat to look at him. “You spent hours hitting balls last night and this morning you’ve not said a word to me about what’s troubling you. We need to communicate if we’re planning on solving either of our cases.”
Styles had always played his cards close to the vest. He’d revealed more to Beth about his private life than he had to anyone, mainly, he believed, to help her face her own demons. He understood people, mainly from dealing with soldiers freshly back from tours of duty, with their heads scrambled and unable to cope. Talking about problems rather than holding them inside did help. He’d made a huge mistake when his mentally sick wife exerted coercive control over him before trying to kill him. He’d known something was terribly wrong and because he loved her so much had tried to handle the situation himself. He looked at Beth. Her eyes held the same steady expression as always. He’d seen anger and concern in those eyes, but he wondered if she’d ever loved anyone or could love anyone after being abused in foster care. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I just have to let out my personal demons, Beth. I’m angry with myself for not being able to stop the shooter. It’s a failure to me and I don’t take failure toowell. I can see your point. We can’t be everywhere at once, and I can’t save the world.”
