Page 20 of Shadow Angel
She didn’t like recalling the memories, some were too painful. “You can’t help me. It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.” Styles took the chopper high over the snowcapped mountains. “I need to know how to deal with your mood swings. I know being caustic isn’t the real you. Fine if you want to be like that on the job but I’d like to think we’re friends.”
She’d never had a friend she could trust or wanted to trust. No one could possibly understand her own personal demons, although Styles had bared his soul about his coercive ex-wife and the damage he’d suffered because of her. She could maybe hint at what happened to her and use it as an excuse. It’s not as if she could tell him she killed people. “I mentioned I was in foster care, and although I know there are some really caring people in the system, I didn’t meet any of them. Things happened that shouldn’t happen to any child, and if I cried or made a fuss they moved me to another home, usually worse than the one previously. It was a vicious cycle and one I don’t want to discuss with you.”
“Ah, okay, I see.” Styles rubbed the scar on his chin. “I know it’s not the same, but believe it or not, I was little as a kid. I grew like crazy when I hit ten and I’ve told you about that time in my life, but between six and ten was a nightmare. Kids bullied me and that’s how I got this scar. A kid hit me with a bottle.” He shrugged. “I never told anyone because it only made things worse. My folks thought I was clumsy.”
Imagining anyone bullying the self-confident Styles was impossible and Beth shook her head. “So you became a brawler? The Army must have been tough. They insist on discipline and I figure you’ve always been a rogue. How did you rise in the ranks with that attitude?”
“Because I’m good at what I do.” Styles shrugged. “I had a hunger to be the best and worked hard, is all, no magic pill.” He flicked her a glance as Black Rock Falls came into view. “The thing is, Beth, it’s in the past and I leave it there. I can’t change what happened, so I move forward. Same with dealing with my divorce. I don’t like to fail but there was no other solution.”
Staring at the beautiful scenery, Beth rubbed both hands down her face. Oh, she had a solution but not one she could ever share with him. She sighed. “You have a scar where everyone can see it. Mine are on the inside.”
“I see.” Styles guided the chopper down to the medical examiner’s helipad.
Beth unstrapped her seatbelt and turned to look at him as he powered down the chopper. “No, you don’t see, because I don’t understand why I’m like this either. Like you said, it’s a defense mechanism, just like laughing at funerals or whatever. Mac figures I don’t have a filter and he’s probably right.” She collected her things and then glanced at him. “You know, the doctors tested me to see if I was bipolar but I’m not. I guess acting tough is part of my professional persona.”
“Well, I won’t take it to heart when you bark at me.” Styles smiled at her. “Come on, let’s get this done so we can get back and help Ryder.”
TWENTY-TWO
Black Rock Falls
A cold blast of air hit Beth as she stepped inside the medical examiner’s building. She followed Styles and Bear through electronic doorways, pausing each time for Styles to slide his card through the scanner. The odor of death crawled along the passageways, vaguely disguised by disinfectant, as they headed toward Wolfe’s office. In front of her, Styles stopped abruptly. She peered around him. Outside the office door sat a Doberman growling and baring his teeth. One loud bark split the silence and echoed along the corridors. The door whooshed open and a man wearing a Stetson, with shaggy blond hair over his collar, jeans, an FBI jacket, and snakeskin cowboy boots stuck his head out and smiled at them. Beth glanced at Styles and nodded to the man. “Agents Beth Katz and Dax Styles out of Rattlesnake Creek field office to see Dr. Wolfe.”
“Hi there.” The man stood to one side. “Agent Ty Carter out of Snakeskin Gully. Don’t mind Zorro. He figures he owns the place.” He looked at the dog. “Stand down.”
A woman walked out, and Beth instantly recognized her from the image on the back of her books. A wave of panic hit her and her stomach flip-flopped. It was behavioral analyst Agent Jo Wells. She’d dressed casual, blue jeans and a sweater under her FBI jacket. Her hiking boots were a popular Montana brand and the same style as her own. She, it seemed, had embraced the West after living in DC much like herself.
“This is Agent Jo Wells.” Carter smiled. “Wolfe figured y’all would want to discuss your current case with her, so as we were in town we dropped by.”
“We sure would.” Styles grinned. “We had planned to call you, so this is great.”
Everyone shook hands. Heart pounding, Beth forced a smile. “I’ve read your books. The interviews with serial killers are mind-blowing.”
“Thanks.” Jo pushed a strand of hair behind one ear. “You’re welcome to come with me the next time I arrange an interview.” She glanced at Styles and her gaze slid over him, assessing him. “Dax too, of course.”
Beth flicked a glance at Styles and lowered her voice, leaning in confidentially. “That’s just Styles, he never uses his name. I figure it’s an Army thing.”
“Okay.” Jo chuckled. “I call TyCartermost of the time. He’s a SEAL.”
“When y’all have finished jawing, I’m ready.” Wolfe appeared at the door of an examination room. “Lock the dogs in my office and suit up.”
“Okay.” Styles rubbed Bear’s ears and led him inside the office. “Stay.”
“I’m guessing he’s K-9? What’s his name?” Carter looked at Bear.
“Bear, and yeah, K-9. He served in Afghanistan, was wounded, his handler was KIA. I was offered him when I was discharged.” Styles indicated with his chin toward Zorro. “It’s unusual to see a Doberman as a K-9. What’s his story?”
“Bomb squad. He can sniff out an IED in seconds. I raised him from a pup and when I left the SEALs, he came with me. He refuses to eat unless I give him the order.” Carter waved his fingers and Zorro walked into the room. “You get along with Bear, now.”
Interested in the conversation, Beth took Jo’s lead and suited up in scrubs, face mask, and gloves, plus the obligatory swipe of mentholated salve under her nose, before entering the examination room. She recognized the people inside—Emily, Wolfe’s daughter, and his assistant, Colt Webber—and nodded a greeting. She joined the others lined up along one side of the room leaning against the counter. The drop in temperature raised goosebumps as she stared at the flat screens on the wall depicting the crime scene and other data. The gurney was rolled out and placed under a huge aluminum light. Wolfe pulled down a microphone to record the session and turned to look at them.
“I’ve completed the preliminary examination, taken swabs, and examined the body for trace evidence and collected the stomach contents, all of which were required to be collected immediately to avoid contamination or deterioration. Whoever did this was careful, which as I mentioned at the scene indicates this isn’t his first time. I found no trace evidence and the body was washed with diluted bleach, removing any latent DNA.” Wolfe glanced at them over his face mask. “I’ve estimated her time of death as late Friday night to Sunday morning, taking into account the low temperature and rate of decomposition. I believe she was murdered not long after her abduction, not more than twelve hours.” Wolfe indicated to results on the screen. “She had no alcohol in her system but I found traces of fentanyl in her stomach contents and believe it may have been used to subdue her or put her to sleep. She hadn’t eaten for four to six hours prior to her abduction.” He pulled back the sheet covering the body of Cassie Burnham. “We have a female approximately twenty-five years of age, average height and weight, in good physical condition. She has breast implants, piercings to her ears and navel, a tattoo of a red rose on the lumbar region of her spine.”
Intrigued, Beth held up her hand and Wolfe stopped the recording. She looked at him over her mask. “Have you established a cause of death?”
“I have a question too, as we are pausing for a second.” Jo moved closer to the body. “I can see by the bruises on her inner thighs she was likely raped. Is there any evidence he interfered with the body post-mortem?”
