Page 27 of Shadow Angel
Ryder waited for TJ to climb back into the passenger seat. “Okay, your place for coffee and then I’ll get back to the office and wait for them. It seems to me Bright is a possible suspect. He ticks most of the boxes. He had opportunity, was there for both abductions, moves around. Has a truck to carry bodies.” He sighed. “The only thing I can’t work out is motive. What motive would he have for killing women?”
“If you knew that, you’d solve the case.” TJ shrugged. “Do you want pie with that coffee?”
Smiling, Ryder nodded. “Sure. Knowing Styles, he’ll be working past supper.”
THIRTY
The moment Styles pulled into a parking space beside the recycled furniture store, Beth was out of the truck and had her nose stuck to the store window. He let Bear out of the truck and then moved to her side. “See something you like?”
“Oh yeah.” She turned to look at him and her smile faded to a frown. “Imagine if I purchased a ton of furniture from here and then discovered he was the killer? I couldn’t stay in a place with things he’d worked on all around me. After seeing that tape, it would be a constant memory.”
Seeing her concern, Styles shrugged. “There are more stores in Rainbow, and Spring Grove has those handcrafted-goods stores you’re looking for. It’s close to the res and there are some great Native American furniture stores there you really should consider. Some of the pieces they create are very beautiful. Some have Native American jewelry as well. If you want something special, you should look there. Both regular stores are on Main. I purchased my sofa and those padded chairs in my apartment there, and they delivered them as well.”
“Perfect.” She turned to look at him eyes dancing. “Do they have a decent motel? There’s so much I want to buy, and I like to take my time and see everything. I’ll never get to look at everything in one trip. I figured if I could use a motel as a base, I could drive around collecting furnishings. If I get bored with that, which I doubt, I’ll go hunt down some nice places to go and paint the scenery. I’m not planning on painting landscapes now but maybe the next time we have some downtime.” She met his gaze. “It would be like taking a vacation.”
Styles walked past the storefront and headed down an alleyway leading to the back. “That sounds like fun, but please remember the wildlife, Beth. You can’t just go wandering off on your lonesome into the forest or along the river.”
“I’ll be armed.” Beth sighed. “I do take notice. I’ll carry bear spray and have my weapon with me. I’m not planning on being anyone’s dinner.”
At the sound ofcluck, cluck, Styles stopped mid-stride and reached for Bear’s collar. “Oh no. Chickens.”
“So?” Beth stared at him mystified.
The only thing that terrified Bear was chickens. He had no idea why, but at the sight of one of them, the dog went into full panic mode. He glanced at Beth. “Run back to the truck and open the door for Bear, he’ll go ballistic at the sight of chickens. Call him to you and hopefully he won’t see them. I’ll stay here and wave them away.”
As Beth took off, four chickens came around the side of the house, pecking and scratching at the ground. Styles tried to turn Bear back to face the truck, but without warning, the dog stiffened like a day-old corpse. So frightened of the small brown hens, Bear’s entire body trembled. The next second, his eyes went wild. Styles hung on to his harness, but the dog was remarkably strong, and as a few chickens wandered across the pathway, the dog suddenly bucked and made a strangled whine. Unable to distract or move him, Styles bent and picked him up and then ran to the truck. Beside it, Beth stared at them wide-eyed. “Grab his blanket.” Styles pushed Bear inside and, taking the blanket from Beth, covered Bear and rubbed him, saying soothing words. He looked at Beth. “It’s okay, he won’t move. We’ll have trouble getting him out of the truck when we get back to the office.” He sighed. “The vet suggested carrying a tranquilizer for him as we live in a rural area. I usually scope out the area before I let him out of the truck. We cope with it. It’s the chickens that sneak up on us that are the problem.”
“Wow! You said he was afraid of chickens, but I thought you were joking.” Beth shook her head. “Poor Bear. When did this first happen?”
Concerned for his trembling companion, Styles shut the door and shrugged. “Something happened before I got him. I’d say not long before either because he wouldn’t have been used as a K-9 with a serious mental issue.” He headed back down the alleyway scattering the chickens. “Maybe seeing them triggers the memory of an explosion. He was injured and his handler KIA as a result of an explosion. It might have happened then, I don’t know. We just deal with it. It’s fine.”
“Now I know, I’ll scout ahead next time and check out the yards.” Beth smiled at him. “I like Bear. I want to help him. Can’t we take him to a dog shrink or something?”
Staring at her in disbelief. “I don’t figure there’s much calling for a dog shrink in these parts, Beth. We’re lucky to have a vet and he suggests tranquilizers. I don’t want a zombie dog. I’ll find another way.” He smiled at her. “And thanks. All help greatly appreciated.”
The sound of someone using an electric sander came from a large timber construction out back of the furniture store. He glanced at Beth. “Do you want to take the lead on this one?”
“No, you talk to him.” She blew out a breath. “I’ll do a little profiling and watch for any telltale signs of psychopathic behavior.”
As they walked along the alleyway, Styles checked his revolver. When interviewing a suspect, it was a habit to unzip his jacket and make sure his weapon slid easily from the shoulder holster, and although he rarely needed to draw it, having it in plain sight gave an unspoken warning. In truth, he preferred to bring a perp down using hand-to-hand combat skills if possible. Guns, especially his .357 Smith & Wesson Magnum, sure made a mess he’d rather avoid, and the paperwork after a shooting was murder. When they reached the open door, he could make out a man who fit their profile sanding a fine-looking wooden chair. He knocked on the door. “Joseph Crenshaw? FBI Agent Styles and my partner, Agent Katz. May we have a moment of your time?”
“Sure.” Crenshaw put down his sander and brushed the dust from his hands on a thick leather apron. “What can I do for you? I haven’t collected any stolen furniture, have I?”
Styles explained why they were there. “Does your wife know you frequent the gentlemen’s clubs and pay for private dances?”
“She’s very understanding, and yeah, she knows.” Crenshaw shrugged. “She doesn’t like me watching porn at home—she’s worried the kids might find it one day—so we made a compromise. It’s not like I’m being unfaithful. I’m just watching, not touching, right? She isn’t concerned about what I do outside the home. What I’d like to know is how you found out what I do in my spare time? Most of the men there keep it confidential.”
Styles nodded. “I’m sure they do. We got the list of bookings for private dances from the managers of the clubs. Your name was on the list and you were at both of the clubs where dancers went missing.”
“I haven’t got them.” Crenshaw shrugged and smiled. “Be my guest, look around all you want. My wife might be okay with me watching strippers, but bringing them home is crossing the line, and having a scantily clad woman cavorting in the family room would be a nightmare to explain to my kids.” He chuckled. “Trust me, I’m one of many married men who go to the clubs. In case you haven’t noticed the entertainment around town is kinda thin on the ground?” He gave Styles a long look. “I’ve seen you there too, so don’t act all high and mighty. We all need something to dream about, right?”
“We’ve established you were at the clubs at the times we mentioned.” Beth exchanged a glance with Styles and then looked at Crenshaw. “You seem to know the local crowd. Did you notice anyone out of place or acting suspicious?”
“Nope, same people, I guess.” Crenshaw shrugged nonchalantly. “I wasn’t really taking too much notice of the guys.”
“Okay.” Beth lifted her chin. “You seem to be on good terms with the dancers. Did they mention anything about being concerned about any of the patrons?”
“I don’t figure my conversations with lap dancers is for your tender ears, Agent Katz.” Crenshaw turned to Styles and winked. “Right, Agent Styles? What’s said in there is between me and the girl.”
