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“Do you have an undertaker in town?” Wolfe raised an eyebrow. “Or some place that has refrigeration for remains?”
“We have a mortician, right here on Main.” The orderly frowned. “There’s a meat-processing plant that has a cold room. When we had a mine accident some years back, they took the bodies there.” He shrugged. “Sheriff Bowman here or Sheriff Weston out of Broken Bridge will know.”
“Thank you. Please wait outside. I’ll call you if I require assistance.” Wolfe waited for him to leave and then slowly removed the sheet. He did a very cursory examination and frowned. “I’ll need to take her back to my office. There’s so much evidence here and this hospital won’t have the equipment I need to record it.”
Beth scanned the body, taking in the injuries, ligature marks, and bruising. “What can you give us?”
“The gunshot wound is the death blow, almost an afterthought, but this girl has been beaten and sexually assaulted.” Wolfe covered the body with reverence. “Heaven knows what happened to her, but I’ll find out. I’ll have the body prepped and ready for transport. I need to see the crime scene, and as another incident occurred close by yesterday, I’ll need to see that first.” He looked at Styles. “Can you get methe coordinates of Thursday’s robbery? The one that goes with this crime?” He thought for a beat. “We’ll need transport to and from the local crime scene as well. Contact the Roaring Creek sheriff to organize something, same with the sheriff out of Broken Bridge. See if you can find out what happened to the other victims in both cases. If they’re not here, where the heck are they?”
“I’m on it.” Styles nodded and left the room. “We’ll need to speak to the first-on-scene responders as well.”
“Good.” Wolfe removed his gloves and tossed them into the trash. “I’ll speak to the physician and make arrangements for the transport of the remains. I’ll swing back this way after we’ve processed the crime scenes and collect the body.” He looked at Beth. “Can you make arrangements for the assumed mother to come here for a DNA swab?”
Beth nodded. “She should be on her way. We’ll meet you at the front desk.” She hurried outside and met Styles in the hallway.
“Wow!” Styles walked beside her. “Wolfe doesn’t waste any time, does he?”
Wolfe had impressed Beth too. She pressed the button for the elevator. “With his caseload, I’m not surprised.”
SIX
Mischief, Montana
I like my job and being able to do just about anything I want is a powerful drug. They say that power corrupts people, but I’m not corrupt. I’m living the dream. I see guys walking along the sidewalk, mouths turned down, or sitting drinking alone in bars because they can’t get a woman. Those men are fools. I can get any woman I want. I can take another man’s wife, daughter, or sister, and no one stands in my way. I just drive around and when a ripe fruit appears on the vine, I pluck it for my pleasure.
I have no fear of the law. They’ll never touch me. You see, I blend into society without a crease, and when I indulge my desire to take a woman, it doesn’t make a ripple on the water of my pond. In this world, people rely on each other to make things happen. Laws can’t be passed by one man and the milk doesn’t get to thousands of breakfast tables by one man—right? The thing is, it only takes one man to prevent a chain of events happening.
I’m the broken cog in a wheel. The black hole of information. This is why I can take my time and indulge my desires with anywoman I choose… or girl, for that matter. The age isn’t a factor for me. It’s the look in their eyes when they know I’m killing them.
SEVEN
Roaring Creek
After discovering the Roaring Creek Sheriff’s Department was a stone’s throw from the hospital entrance, Styles left Beth chasing down Mrs. Carson for a DNA swab and headed down to meet Sheriff Bowman. The office was large, with a receptionist who introduced herself as Sharifa Hagstrom and offered him coffee while he waited for the sheriff. After five minutes or so, a haggard, fifty-plus, gray-haired man, carrying far too much weight to be able to run and apprehend a criminal, waved him into his office. Styles held out his cred pack. “I’m Agent Dax Styles from the Rattlesnake Creek field office. As you’re aware, the convenience store killer has spread himself out across three or four counties, and we’ve been called in to take over the investigation. I believe your store was hit the second time in six months? Have you made any headway with the case?”
“Can’t say that I have.” Bowman waved him into a chair and sank with a sigh into a large padded chair behind the desk. “No witnesses, no evidence, and another girl missing. I’ve had my deputies driving all along the highways searching for a bodysince sunup. We’re assuming from the other incidents she is dead by now. He doesn’t keep them for more than one night.”
Styles nodded and placed the cup of coffee on the table. “I have the files but there isn’t anything to go on at all. For instance, the same crime happened six months ago. It’s obviously a homicide. Why wasn’t the state medical examiner notified? If there was evidence, it’s lost forever now.” He gave Bowman a long hard stare. “For instance, where are the bodies of the victims from yesterday’s shootings?”
“They are at the undertakers. He’s preparing them for burial.” Bowman’s forehead creased into a frown. “Our local doctor examined the bodies, pronounced them dead, and gave their cause of death as gunshot wounds.”
Horrified at the thought of the victims already being embalmed, Styles gaped at him. “Call the undertaker and make sure he stops any preparation. Did the doctor at least remove the bullets for identification?”
“I believe so.” Bowman wiped a hand down his face. “I’ve been busy concentrating on finding the girl.”
Nodding, Styles took out his notebook and pen. “I’ll need the doctor’s name and details. Also the names of the first on scene and their contact details. How far away is the crime scene?”
“A mile or so from here.” Bowman raised both eyebrows.
Thinking for a beat about the time needed to complete everything over such a wide area, Styles blew out a breath. “The medical examiner will need transport for his team and myself and Agent Katz to the crime scene, the undertakers, and then back to the hospital. Five of us in total. How far is it to Broken Bridge from here by road?”
“Maybe half an hour, forty-five minutes.” Bowman gave him the details and then looked at him with unfocused eyes. “How did you get here?”
Styles made notes and then looked at him. “We have a chopper. We’ll fly to Broken Bridge. Is there a place close by to the convenience store large enough to land two choppers?”
“Yeah, there’s a park opposite.” Bowman sighed. “Do you want me to call Sheriff Weston to meet you there? He can arrange transport if you need to move around Broken Bridge.” He sighed again. “I’ll call in one of my deputies, and between us, we’ll be able to give you a ride where you need to go.”
“That would be good. We’ll meet up outside the hospital.” Styles looked up from his notes. “Give me Sheriff Weston’s number. I need to know what happened to the bodies from the shooting last Friday and who was first on scene.”
