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“Is there proof that he murdered his mother?”The director let out a long sigh.
“Not at this time.” Styles looked at Beth and rolled his eyes.
“You’ll need to leave it in the hands of the local sheriff. He can work with the medical examiner. You’re off the case until you have proof to tie it in with the other murders. Right now, we have an ongoing federal case, Agent Styles, and it takes precedence. If the Tarot Killer is in Mischief, I want him caught. You leave first thing in the morning. Don’t give up until you have answers for me.”He disconnected.
Swallowing hard, Beth took in Styles’ weary expression. She had mixed feelings about investigating the Tarot Killer. Getting involved with the case and covering up evidence against herself made her no better than Dryer. She refused to drop down to his level and in that second decided she’d present any evidence she found and suffer the consequences. Nervous but determined not to let Styles down, she pulled an energy bar from her pocket and offered it to him, glad to see him rip open the wrapper and eat it in two bites. “I guess we head back to Mischief in the morning.” She caught his grimace and raised both eyebrows. “The directordoesn’t sound too happy and I’m surprised he didn’t send Carter and Jo.”
“Me too.” Styles gave her a long considering stare. “I figure you have a crystal ball. You suspected something wasn’t right in the Mischief Sheriff’s Department. We should have followed up more when we were there.”
Shaking her head and allowing the rain to spill from the brim of her hat, she squeezed his arm. “We did what we could, with the time we had, Styles. It would’ve taken too long to go through everything and check out every investigation. They all did the absolute minimum and that falls on the sheriff’s shoulders. If Dryer was involved in a cover-up, we’ll concentrate on him specifically this time.” She offered him a smile. “We’ll hand this crime scene over to Ryder to process. With Wolfe to assist him, he’ll be fine. You need to get home and rest.” She met his surprised gaze. “I’ll do some groundwork on Dryer’s cases this afternoon. Come over to my apartment this evening and we’ll order in dinner and then get an early night. What do you say?”
“Thanks, I appreciate your concern. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone but you, but I’m exhausted and my head aches and my ribs are on fire. I’d love to join you for takeout, but can we forget about work and just watch a movie or something? The workload is getting crazy. I feel like I’m on a carousel in a horror movie.” Styles wiped a hand down his face. “I keep going round and round, faster and faster, and I can’t get off.”
FORTY-FIVE
SATURDAY, WEEK TWO
Mischief
The evening spent with Beth had been surprisingly relaxing. He’d refueled the chopper before heading back to his apartment to pack. He hurt all over, and bruised ribs aside, his exhaustion after the fall concerned him. He’d always taken flying very seriously, making sure he never flew if he became ill or injured. The last few days had been hell, but the fall had shaken him more than he’d admit to anyone. The preparation before the mission had been solid. They’d checked and rechecked the mineshafts in the area and they’d kept to what he’d believed to have been the safe area when trying to save Cheyenne. Falling into a mineshaft with his background was unforgivable and he blamed himself for nearly killing Beth and Bear. Somehow Bear hadn’t been injured but he knew Beth was hurt. She covered pain well and he admired that about her.
His concern was validated when he found her dozing in the hot tub in the gym. They often used the hot tub after a long time out in the elements but rarely together. Beth liked her privacy but didn’t send him away when he entered the gym. They’d satin silence most of the time just soaking in the hot water. They’d eaten pizza for dinner and just chatted about nothing until he’d headed for his apartment.
The morning met him clear with patchy clouds. The wind gusts had dropped a little. It was a perfect day for flying, and renewed after sleeping for ten hours straight, he enjoyed the flight. On the way, Beth made a few references to the Night Creeper murders but seemed determined to scour the hardcopy files they kept at the office. He dropped the bird over the top of the mountain range and Mischief came into view. They landed on the helipad at the hospital and made their way downstairs, and to his surprise, out front, Sheriff Lance Walker sat in his cruiser waiting for them. Styles turned to Beth. “So they’re expecting us.”
“Hmm, now the files will be sanitized for sure.” Beth shook her head. “I can’t believe he was prewarned by the director.”
Styles nodded to Walker and climbed in the passenger seat. “Thanks for the ride. We’ll need to check in at the hotel and drop off our bags.”
“Planning on staying for a time, huh?” Walker eyed him suspiciously. “Do you have any intel on what happened to Dryer?”
Glancing around as they pulled from the curb, Styles shook his head. “The cause of death will come out in his autopsy. I’m sure the director will hand down the findings when they’re available. Did you find his body?”
“I was called to the scene.” Walker headed for the hotel and parked out front. “He was parked in the driveway of his house. Just sitting there, dead. It was darn creepy, I can tell you.” He glanced at Styles. “I called the paramedics and they took him to the hospital but he was pronounced dead on scene. His vehicle was damaged, but he looked fine. Not a mark on him.”
Interested, Styles turned to look at him. “Have you investigated the cause of the damage?”
“As much as there’s been time.” Walker heaved out a sigh. “It wasn’t here in town around his patrol area. I have Boone scouting out around the saloon Dryer liked to frequent in his downtime. He did have a patrol later that night, but he often went by the Dancing Lady Saloon to pass the time. He didn’t drink, just played pool or spent time chatting with people. It’s not like he had a wife at home or anything. I figure he was a lonely guy.” He nodded to the hotel. “You go and check in now and I’ll wait here. I’ve arranged for a rental, as per your director’s instructions. It will be delivered to my office by noon.”
“Thanks.” Beth climbed from the back seat the moment Styles opened the door for her. She looked at him. “I hate riding in the back of a cruiser. Being trapped inside with no door handles freaks me out.”
Grabbing their bags out of the trunk, he dropped the handle on her suitcase and rolled it to her. “You’d better ride shotgun on the way to the sheriff’s office. I don’t want you freaking out and shooting out the windows.” He chuckled and then looked at Beth’s astonished expression. Clearly the thought had crossed her mind. “I didn’t realize you were claustrophobic. How did you hide that during training?”
“I’m not claustrophobic.” Beth lifted her chin and headed toward the hotel entrance, rolling one suitcase in each hand, more than enough clothes for a month’s vacation, but that always seemed to be the norm for her. “It’s a control thing. I don’t like being out of control. I figure it’s an echo from my past.” She gave him a direct look that cut through him. “Being in foster care, at times I was forced to do things and had no control over my situation. I’ve overcome most of it but in some situations it comes back. During training, I was told to draw on the bad experiences to make myself stronger.”
Nodding, Styles headed for the counter. “Me too.”
Once they’d dropped their luggage off in their rooms, they headed back down to the sheriff’s cruiser and climbed inside. He drove them to his office and they made themselves comfortable around Dryer’s old desk. This had made Beth happy. She had full access to Dryer’s computer and spent a good deal of time going through the drawers. She found nothing of interest, and Styles collected a pile of murder books and dropped them onto the desk. “These are the Night Creeper murders.” He opened a file and took out two pieces of paper. “There’s nothing here. We’re wasting our time.”
“If the Tarot Killer murdered Dryer, then he had something on him.” Beth chewed on the end of her pen. “We need to find what that was. From all the Tarot Killer cases I’ve read about, he kills only serial killers who escape justice. If Dryer was covering up evidence of his involvement in the crimes, it won’t be in these files. We need to look into him more closely.”
Styles smiled. She always thought outside the box and found angles he hadn’t considered. “We don’t need a search warrant for a dead man. Once our vehicle arrives, we’ll go and search his house and see what Deputy Dryer was hiding.”
“In the meantime”—Beth tapped away at the computer keyboard—“I’m going to find out a little more about him, starting from his upbringing and how he was in school. The one thing about school records: I can hack them blindfolded. If he scratched his backside, I’ll know about it.”
Styles stood and headed for the door. “I’ll grab us a cup of coffee.”
Three hours later, Styles rubbed both hands down his face in frustration. The murder books, where law officers were expected to give details of crimes they’d investigated, were useless. He went to another filing cabinet and pulled files out at random. Flicked through them and then went back to the desk. Beth wasabsorbed in her work and hadn’t said much all morning. “Beth, got a minute?”
