Page 10 of Shadow Angel
Beth thumbed in a reply and waited for a response. “He says it’s my word against the four of them. They said I was dressed like a stripper and removed my coat in a seductive manner as if inviting them. When they came over to speak with me, they said I went crazy and attacked them. They were only defending themselves and the only time they knew we were FBI is when you arrived. He spoke to the DA and we can’t make a case against them without witnesses, so they walked.”
“Wonderful.” Styles took the chopper in another sweep. “Look below at the dirt track. It’s been used recently. It runs to the highway. It’s too dry to pick up any tracks but he came here and more than one time.” He took the chopper down lower.
A chill ran down Beth’s spine and she stared at the sea of golden wheatgrass moving like turbulent waves under the wind from the chopper. “Then he’s an organized killer.” She shuddered. “I hope he didn’t come back for visits. Those guys are beyond creepy.”
“I just wonder how they get rid of the stink.” Styles shot her a glance. “It’s not something you can cover with cologne.”
Beth shook her head. “Maybe we’re looking for a killer in a hazmat suit?”
TEN
Serenity, Montana
Disoriented and unable to move, Vicki Strauss wiggled her fingers, touching a coarse fabric. Her nose pressed against a prickly surface, and when she inhaled, the distinctive smell of an old carpet filled her nostrils. Panic gripped her and she tried to scream but the filthy rag pressing against her tongue muted any noise. Someone had wrapped her in a carpet so tight she could hardly take a breath. A dull ache throbbed in her temples. Desperately fighting to get free without success, she lay panting. A voice, smooth and cajoling, drifted through the stifling fabric surrounding her. She forced out a reply but only a muffled grunt escaped the gag.
“You’ll need to keep quiet, my lovely.” It was a man’s voice. “I’ll have to move you now. Be good and I won’t hurt you.”
Dragged and then lifted, her head tipped down and bent almost double, she appeared to hang in the air. The carpet unrolled. She spun and fell hard onto a dirt floor. Trying to get onto hands and knees as a dank dim space surrounded her, she glanced over one shoulder to see the man who’d captured her, but only shadows moved through the open space above her. She dragged the gag from her mouth, and as the smell of rotting potatoes crawled up her nose, she realized she’d been dumped in a small root cellar. Footsteps came from above and something thumped onto the floor beside her and hit her hand. In the half-light she made out a large plastic bottle of water. She closed her fist around it just as a squeaking trapdoor slammed shut above her head, thrusting her into darkness. The next second a bolt slid shut. “Let me out of here. What do you want with me?”
Nothing.
She screamed long and loud until footsteps came again. “Let me out of here. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Later.” A low sinister chuckle leaked through the wooden trap above her head. The way out was high enough to be out of reach, but she could hear his muffled voice. “We’ll be taking a little ride to my special place. I have a friend you might like to meet and maybe I’ll get you to strip just for me. I’d like that. Just the three of us, darlin’.”
An uncontrollable shudder of revulsion wracked her body. It was one of the creeps from the club. She’d taken on private dances to make some extra cash and being so close to sweating fast-breathing old men made her want to spew. She’d vowed to never do it again—but at someone’s mercy, how far would she be prepared to go to get out of this tomb?
The footsteps, slow and methodical, walked away. Alone and trapped, she let out a long sob. What had happened? How had she gotten into this terrible situation? She tried to push through the ringing in her ears to think straight. Most of it was blank but she pushed back her memory. It must still be Tuesday. She’d arrived around nine at the Silver Nugget Saloon to collect her pay. Friday was normally pay night for the dancers, but she’d been unwell with food poisoning and missed an entire weekend’s work. After leaving the club, she’d headed to the landfill to dump the garbage she’d accumulated during the week. It was something that she did regularly every Tuesday morning. As she reached the outskirts of Serenity, she’d been sure a pickup was following her, and frequently checked her rearview mirror. Panic gripped her when she’d made a number of turns, and the vehicle had stuck with her, but when she took the dirt road to the landfill, the pickup had driven by as if heading toward the highway. She’d dumped her garbage and headed for the recycling area when the pickup had suddenly emerged and backed in beside her… then nothing. She couldn’t recall a darn thing.
Unsteady, she pushed to her feet. Above light filtered through the floorboards, making strange shapes across the packed dirt floor. She moved a few steps one way, hands stretched out. Her fingers touched rough-cut wooden shelves coated with dirt. Cobwebs stuck to her fingers and cold shivers slid over her at the threat of spiders, rats, and other cellar dwellers occupying the small space. She shuffled around and tripped over something. It was a chair, and she ran her fingers all over it and then dragged it under the trapdoor. Wobbly, she climbed unsteadily onto the chair and pushed hard at the trapdoor but it barely moved. Panic gripped her. There was no way out. No escape. She flopped onto the chair and reached for the bottle of water. It was cold and she drank deeply. Tears streamed down her face and her shoulders shook. She drank again as the room tilted. Her vision blurred and the bottle tumbled from her palm. She slid from the chair and her face scraped along the dirt floor. She couldn’t move. As the room moved in and out of focus, she gasped, trying to suck in one more breath.Oh, no, he drugged the water.
ELEVEN
Dr. Shane Wolfe started his career in the Marines as a chopper pilot. He’d flown medivac choppers during many conflicts and had seen his fair share of carnage, but nothing really prepared a person for the horrific cruelty one human could inflict on another. During the flight, Styles had brought him up to speed with the situation in Serenity. He glanced at his daughter, Emily, a medical examiner in training, and wondered if she was ready to experience this type of crime scene. His other assistant, Colt Webber, a badge-holding deputy from Black Rock Falls, was practically bombproof. Wolfe had worked with agents Styles and Katz previously and found them to be very professional. The young sheriff, Cash Ryder, was inexperienced in murder cases. Whoever expected him to keep law and order in more than one county without a deputy had no thought for him or the townsfolk. The crime rate was increasing all over and he’d come to realize since living in Black Rock Falls that remote mountainous regions were a haven for anyone who wanted to live off the grid. People could hide or go missing and never be found. It was often by dumb luck they’d discovered the bodies of murder victims before the wildlife had cleaned the area.
He dropped the chopper into an open space close to the cabin and waited for Ryder and Webber to climb down and collect the gurney and body bags. He needed to speak to Emily. He pulled off his headset and turned to her. “This is a particularly gruesome crime scene. The victim is badly decomposed and posed with makeup. The body has been tampered with, as in the facial features may be disturbing, clownlike, according to Agent Styles. It’s fine if you’d rather remain outside this time.”
“Oh, Dad.” Emily shook her head. “I’ve seen corpses at the body farm riddled with maggots and victims of many horrendous crimes. It’s all part of the job. I know I’ll always be your little girl, but I’d be in the wrong profession if death in all its unimaginable facets worried me.” She squeezed his arm. “I love that you care about me and please don’t ever stop protecting me from the maniacs who commit the crimes. Those are the people who keep me awake at night. The dead can’t hurt me and they need us to tell their story, right?”
Always impressed by his intelligent daughter, Wolfe smiled. “They sure do. Come on then. Let’s get at it. Suit up. Styles mentioned it stinks in there.”
As he climbed down from the chopper, the smell of death came on a gust of wind. He grimaced and walked toward Beth Katz and Styles. “You didn’t go inside?”
“Nope.” Styles wiped mentholated salve under his nose before fitting a face mask. “We didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene. It’s obvious the victim is deceased and we didn’t have any coveralls. It’s only by luck we found her. I did a fly-by searching for murders of crows in the area or gathering predators. We noticed the crows swarming over the roof and came down to take a look.”
“Someone has been coming here frequently.” Beth waved a hand toward a dirt road leading away from the dilapidated log cabin. “We followed it back to the highway and it’s obvious from the way the grass is bent over that someone’s been using it over the last few days. We searched around some but couldn’t find any tire tracks or indication of the vehicle used.” She cleared her throat. “We believe the victim might be Cassie Burnham. She went missing from Rattlesnake Creek Friday last. She is an exotic dancer who works at Outlaws gentlemen’s club. Her purse and phone were found on Quartz by another dancer, who reported her missing.”
Nodding, Wolfe looked from one to the other. “So y’all have no idea if there’s more than one body inside the house?”
“Nope.” Styles took a pair of blue coveralls from Ryder and put them on. “We don’t have anyone else missing, so had no reason to believe there’d be anyone else inside.”
After witnessing what serial killers were capable of, Wolfe never took anything for granted. “Maybe not missing from this county, but you don’t know who you’re dealing with. The cabin could be the dumping ground for a serial killer.” He waved a hand around him, encompassing the whole area. “Look how isolated this place is. Y’all know serial killers can travel all over, and if this is a collector who enjoys visiting his kills, this place would be perfect.” He looked from one to the other. “If you’re coming inside the cabin with me, get suited up. I want you to keep to the perimeter of the room. If the killer spent time with the victim, I would expect to find trace evidence all over. There are powerful flashlights in my kit. Why don’t y’all grab them. We’ll need as much light as possible inside.” He turned to Webber and Emily. “Full suit, cover everything, and use the face shields. When a body like this is so advanced in decomposition, it can ooze bodily fluids.” He turned back to Beth and Styles. “I suggest you do the same.” He glanced at Ryder. “You too. As sheriff, you’ll need to be present. If any of y’all need to spew, go outside, got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Ryder’s face paled.
After suiting up, Wolfe led the way to the front door and peered inside. The smell was overpowering even with the mentholated salve. He checked the floor, noting the footprints in the dust-covered floorboards. He held out a hand to prevent anyone from following. “Webber, get some shots of these prints. They’re not conclusive but we’ll have an idea of the size of boots the killer was wearing.” He moved back outside to allow Webber to do his job.
Looking at the others, he indicated toward the door. “Y’all see how easy it is to trample over evidence? I know this isn’t your first crime scene, but if you’re planning on catching this killer, we’ll need all the evidence we can find. This cabin could be a goldmine of information.”
