Page 43 of Shadow Angel

Beth had no reason to see Crenshaw again, but she’d spoken to Agent Jo Wells recently about the case. Jo had found the man interesting and was keen to speak to him again. She could use his willingness to talk about what made him tick to add to her book of serial killers’ reasons for murder. Beth smiled to herself. She’d believed Jo Wells would be a threat. Her knowledge as a behavioral analyst was outstanding, but to really understand the mind of a psychopath, Beth had the advantage—after all, it really did take one to know one.

Her mind drifted back to her shopping excursion with Styles. She’d spent an enjoyable day with him and his assistance unloading furniture at the cabin had been welcome. They’d spent a nice couple of hours just walking along the sandy banks of Rattlesnake Creek, throwing sticks for Bear and talking about life in general. It was a beautiful place to live and as they walked Beth turned in circles taking in the vista. Rattlesnake Creek’s water ran fast, weaving through huge boulders as it made its way downstream. It roared by and whitewater waves caressed the wide sandy riverbank, leaving behind streams of white foamy bubbles that cast tiny rainbows across each one. The bubbles appeared to change color as she walked by, and mesmerized, she bent to examine them.

The river originated from triple waterfalls set high in the mountains, the Three Fork Falls, clearly seen in the distance surrounded by a constant cloud of water vapor. Pine trees followed the river on one side and the forest climbed up the mountain, the green tops stopping short of the snowcapped mountain peaks. Rattlesnake Creek was opposite the forest and nestled into a valley between mountain peaks, one of many scattered all through the base of the mountain range. The town itself along with many of the old mining areas had its history depicted in the historic buildings. Rattlesnake Creek had maintained them and they stood proud as the reminders of the Old West.

Tucked in among the mountains and accessed by roads hewn out by hand, the mines both old and new had found a new life in the last few decades. With the increase in the price of gold, gemstones, copper, and other precious metals, this part of the Montana Rocky Mountains was thriving. The idea of exploring everything this area had to offer thrilled Beth. She’d always wanted a rustic cabin in the woods, filled with genuine antiques. Finding them, or using her search for them as an excuse to be away from town when necessary, had become an exciting possibility. Oh yeah, Rattlesnake Creek was the perfect place to live, that was for darn sure.

Her cabin still needed two beds and a refrigerator, and she’d recently ordered them online. She’d purchased the essentials: a coffee pot, cups, plates, silverware, two nice stuffed chairs, and a wooden kitchen table and four chairs. All had been stacked in the back of their trucks and Styles had unloaded them and given her advice on where he considered they should be placed inside the cabin. She still needed a closet and dresser to keep a few spare clothes. The next shopping expedition for other items would be her excuse to be away from her apartment next time. After that, she’d use hunting down art supplies and vanishing into the forest searching for scenery to paint as an excuse to be missing. She had thought about this long and hard and, after searching the net, had found some images online of the surrounding area to paint. Of course, when she went hunting down psychopaths, she’d hardly have time to paint as well. She’d chosen acrylics as her medium and could spend some time painting at night. Acrylic paints dried fast and she’d take the finished pictures and some unfinished ones as well to the cabin well before she needed them, just in case Styles came snooping. She’d set aside one of the bedrooms as her studio. The room had a window that let in the sun. It would be perfect and would fool anyone. She stared at Styles working at his desk and sighed.Well, maybe everyone.

As if sensing her looking at him, Styles looked up and smiled.

“Do you recall, a recent case where the women were found murdered and covered with lawn clippings? A guy by the name of Levi Jackson was charged when a woman claimed she’d escaped from his van after he tried to murder her and he walked. I’ve always believed there was more to that case than met the eye. He fit the profile. Everyone said so.”

Coming close to becoming Jackson’s victim and what the cops’ reaction would be to finding his body had been at the front of Beth’s mind for a time. Right now, she needed to hide that particular fact from Styles. Feigning disinterest, Beth sipped her steaming cup of coffee and set it down. She nodded. “Yeah, I remember reading about that one. It went to trial. He had a great attorney and walked. If I recall, the defense based its case on the fact he admitted to picking her up for rough sex and after paying her let her out at a gas station. They had CCTV footage of her getting willingly into his van and leaving it. The defense established she was a sex worker. The case on the murdered women and kids is ongoing. Why?”

“They found Levi Jackson murdered by the Tarot Killer. He had a tarot card stuffed halfway down his throat.” Styles stared at her. “He was discovered in the forest out at Running Water. The murder weapon was a sharp instrument, like a long needle. One puncture wound was found in the ear and one to the base of the skull. His brain stem was obliterated. As usual, no trace evidence was discovered. They did find a garbage bag filled with lawn clippings in his van—just like the ones used to cover the bodies of the other victims. He was a handyman and traveled around through the three counties where the bodies of the other victims were found—and guess what? The lawn clippings and branches found on his last victim matched those from his own yard.” He leaned back in his seat. “It gets even better. A flyer in the back of the van offered a room for a few hours’ work at a ranch. The instructions were to call ‘Bill.’ The number was the same as the burner phone found on his body.”

Trying not to smile, Beth put down her coffee. “Really? That’s incredible.”

“This was exactly the same info the sex worker gave them. Go figure? Problem was, even if they’d found new evidence, they couldn’t retry him, not with the double-jeopardy law, but he did the murders, that’s for sure.” Styles shook his head. “The other strange thing is they found his van miles away from his body. It was in the forest with the keys in the ignition. This is where it gets interesting. The guy had two phones, a burner in his pocket and a regular phone in his glovebox. When they traced his regular phone and his ATM withdrawals, they discovered he’d been in all the places the murders occurred.”

Leaning back in her chair, Beth raised both eyebrows. “Wow! It makes you wonder how many more serial killers are free because of the double-jeopardy law. Surely, they could have charged him for one of the recent murders? They had evidence, didn’t they?”

“They suspected him at first because he left flyers seeking work as a handyman on noticeboards in roadhouses and other counties around Billings. He came under the persons of interest list as he regularly moved through the murder areas.” Styles scratched his head. “I can only imagine because he admitted to picking up the woman at the roadhouse and returning her alive, they believed him, especially once it was established that she was a sex worker, as he’d stated. She was on file for numerous arrests.” He stared at her. “How does the Tarot Killer see what we don’t? How is he getting his information and how the heck is he taking out serial killers all over the state without anyone catching him?” He flicked a pen in the air and caught it. “He makes us look like amateurs.”

Reaching for her cup, Beth shrugged. “Seems to me he’s just taking out the garbage. Think about it, Styles. This Jackson guy was a violent criminal. He raped and killed women and their kids. He preyed on the weak and vulnerable. If we’d hunted him down, we’d have likely had to catch him in the act to prove our case, right? I mean after walking free from his previous case no one was touching him. I figure I’d have needed to go undercover with you as backup. If I recall, he’s a big guy. How would you have stopped him raping me and then slicing me up?”

“I’d have shot him. Most likely killed him.” Styles shrugged. “I would have protected you. You know that, right?”

Nodding, Beth met his gaze. “Yeah, by killing him.”

“I’ve never been known to be subtle.” Styles leaned back in his chair staring at the ceiling and then dropped his gaze back to her. “Don’t say this makes me the same as the Tarot Killer, Beth, because we’re miles apart.”

Enjoying his reaction, Beth sipped her coffee, eyeing him over the rim. She loved his enthusiasm in their discussions. It was no holds barred. “How so? He’s off the streets either way.”

“Agreed, but I carry a badge.” Styles smiled at her and pushed to his feet.

There was the hero slipping out again, and amused, Beth nodded trying to be serious. “So, what’s next on the agenda for Agents Katz and Styles?”

“The sky’s the limit.” Styles stared into space and then looked back at her. A slow smile curled his lips. “How about we take down the Tarot Killer once and for all?”

Good luck with that.Beth chuckled. “That sounds like a plan. When do we start?”

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