Page 19 of Shadow Angel
“Not for me.” Beth smiled. “Although it is very good. We have an early start in the morning.”
“Okay.” TJ nodded. “If you want pie, give me a wave.” He turned to go.
“Do you really want to know about my dad?” Beth slowly unwrapped her silverware. “I don’t usually discuss him, mainly because so much information was blocked out when my mom died.” She gave him a long, considering look. “I know what he did, and I’ve read the court documents. The unredacted copies. I had a right to know and I obtained a court order to view them and they were released to me from the lawyer who represented him in court.”
Surprised she was discussing her father, Styles cut into his steak and nodded, hoping that she would continue. He’d often wondered how much being the daughter of a serial killer had affected her on the job. It couldn’t have been easy trying to prove herself to her superiors. Perhaps she just needed someone to listen to her. “It must have been some time after he was jailed?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t until I joined the FBI.” Beth chewed a mouthful of food, swallowed, and then looked at him. “Being in cybercrime meant I had access to everyone’s files, but I couldn’t find out what had really happened until I received the court transcripts. The problem was after my father murdered my mother, I blocked out everything. He’d been killing for years, and it’s obvious now my mother knew about it. You see, he only killed at night and she must have noticed him missing.”
Intrigued, Styles listened with interest. “Maybe not. I’ve read about many cases where men are married, although personally I would imagine there would be some smell about them or bloodstained clothes.” He raised one shoulder, considering his ex. “I find it hard to imagine a wife wouldn’t notice something unusual about a husband who’s been murdering people. Perhaps if your mom did know, she didn’t do anything because she was in fear of her life?”
“Well, she’d have gotten it right then, wouldn’t she?” Beth cut her steak into small pieces. “He messed her up real bad, attacked her face and cut her breasts. He made her suffer.” She gave him a long look. “Why do you think I hate him so much? He caused everything bad in my life. Being in foster care was a nightmare. I was moved from place to place every few months. Some of the places I lived were worse than being in jail in an undeveloped country.” She continued to eat as if thinking what next to say.
Styles paused eating and looked at her. “I think I’ll have another glass of wine. It’s not like we’re driving. Want another? We don’t have to leave until nine and it’s still early.”
“Okay.” Beth finished her glass and waved at TJ. “I think I’ll have a slice of pie, if we’re staying.” She smiled at him. “I’m enjoying our talk. It’s good to be able to speak to someone about my dad. It’s kinda bottled up inside me.”
Styles smiled at TJ when he came to the table. “You’ve twisted our arms. We’ll have more wine and the pie.”
“I’ll be right back.” TJ collected the plates and went back to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with two glasses of wine and two slices of pie. “Coffee is on the house, if you want to finish off your meal with a cup.”
“Maybe later.” Beth nodded. “Thanks, TJ, the meal was delicious.”
Keeping her conversation in the front of his mind, Styles took his time, eating pie and sipping wine before looking at her again. He didn’t want to appear too eager, but in truth, if she unburdened herself, it might make her feel better. “You can speak to me anytime. I’m never going to discuss what you tell me with anyone. Yeah, I’m required to give updates to Mac on how you’re doing, but what we discuss between us is private. I figure your old boss is only concerned about your well-being.”
“Yeah, he believes I’m reckless and dangerous as a partner.” Beth narrowed her gaze. “He never took the time to get to know me.” She sighed. “Do you want me to go on, about my dad, I mean?”
Nodding Styles dug into his pie. “Sure.”
“The media called my dad Cutthroat Jack.” She slid a hand inside her jacket and produced a straight razor. It was old, maybe from the early nineteen hundreds, silver, highly decorated with a horn handle. “This was his weapon of choice.”
Familiar with the name and the case, Styles swallowed a sip of wine and stared at her. Cutthroat Jack had murdered thirty women they knew about and could possibly have killed another twenty or so. He stared at the razor and shook his head. “That’s a fine piece of history, but there’s no way you got that out of evidence.”
“Not this one, no.” Beth slowly closed the razor and slid it back inside her pocket. “Maybe he used it, maybe not. It was one of a collection of eleven and I figure no DNA was discovered on it. I found them in a storage locker with the rest of the things from the house. The house was sold and the money placed in trust for me when I turned twenty-one. The possessions are still in the locker, paid for each month. Anything of interest was examined by the ME at the time of his arrest, but only one or two things were taken into evidence. He never committed crimes at home before my mother’s murder. They found his trophy hoard behind a false wall in the garage. He collected fingernails.” She patted the side of her jacket. “This razor and a few others belonged to my grandfather. They’re mentioned in his estate documents.” She leaned back in her chair. “Before you ask, I carry it as a constant reminder to take down everyone like him.” She shuddered. “He was a perverted excuse for a human being and I’m ashamed of him.”
Aware speaking about her father was stressful, Styles nodded. “I would be too. So unless you need to discuss him with me again, we’ll keep him out of our topic of conversation. Tell me about your cabin.”
“It’s beautiful and will be more so when I get the time to fix it up.” Beth sipped her wine and her eyes danced. “I’m hanging out for some downtime, so I can hit the stores.”
Grinning, Styles leaned back in his seat and chuckled. “There’s a new fishing rod in my cabin and I’ve a bunch of new flies I’m hankering to try. Trust me, after a tough case there is nothing better than a week in tranquility.”
“Amen to that.” Beth held up her glass.
TWENTY-ONE
WEDNESDAY
In the chopper on the way to Black Rock Falls, the conversation Beth had with Styles the previous night ran through her mind. It hadn’t been the wine loosening her tongue. She’d allowed her dark side to peek through for a few minutes. It was the charismatic serial killer sitting with Styles, not the FBI agent. Being able to relax with someone had been invigorating, although she’d always been on her guard not to be too likable. Too many psychopathic serial killers came under suspicion by profilers by being too nice. She’d keep her edge on the job and maybe from time to time relax some with Styles. It would be interesting to see if she could manage the switch in a social environment without it being obvious. Most times, her “I’m your best friend, you can trust me” side emerged right before she took out a particularly vicious murdering monster. Although she followed the same ideals as Styles when it came to crime, her definition of justice had a slight twist.
“Autopsies are always difficult and this one will be horrific.” Styles’ voice came through her headset. “I’ll go it alone if it’s a problem.”
Blinking, Beth turned to look at him. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve already seen the body. How much more horrific can it be?”
“Whoa.” Styles shot her a quick glance. “Don’t confuse being considerate with overprotectiveness. You haven’t said a word to me since we got into the chopper and I figured maybe you were contemplating the autopsy.” He drew in a deep sigh. “What the heck happened to you to make you so defensive?”
Memories of her time in foster care flooded her mind. It was a time she wished she could forget but it sat there like a festering wound. A constant reminder of why she needed to remove monsters from society. She shook her head, ignoring him.
“Don’t shut me out, Beth.” Styles cleared his throat. “You trust me, I know it. Maybe I can help?”
