Page 29 of Shadow Angel
“Aw come on, don’t be so judgmental.” Styles grinned at her and slipped on his sunglasses. “You don’t believe women go to strip clubs or have male strippers at their parties? How do you think their husbands, partners, or whatever feel about that? Is it okay for a woman to watch a guy remove his clothes and not a man?” He turned in his seat to pat Bear and then started the engine. “If you love someone, you wouldn’t cheat on them, whatever the inducement.”
Beth shook her head. “I’m sure I wouldn’t and I wouldn’t have a stripper at a party either. Male strippers don’t interest me. In fact, they would make me feel uncomfortable.” She shot him a glance. “You know, my dad was killing women for years and coming home to my mom after he raped and brutalized them. I often wonder if she had her suspicions and challenged him about it the night he murdered her. He must have shown some signs. I know psychopaths can hide everything with charm, but I figure Mom found something incriminating.” She sighed. “That could have triggered him. The cop part of me wants to know the truth about that night and it’s likely he’d brag about it to me, but I can’t face him knowing what he’s done. Thinking about him makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Ah… I see. Growing up in foster care and not knowing what happened to your family must have been traumatic. I wish I’d been there. It sounds like you needed a friend.”
If he only knew the truth. The nightmares, the cold sweats as my mind replayed every terrifying second.Beth nodded. “It was like living in someone else’s life, as if I didn’t belong. A friend would have been nice, but I was a loner.”
“I can understand why you wouldn’t want to relive what happened. Our brains make us forget things to protect us. Maybe you shouldn’t prod the tiger?” Styles headed back to Main. “It’s getting late. Is there anything you need to do after we’ve spoken to Ryder?”
Running the day’s events through her mind, Beth looked at him. It was difficult reading him behind the sunglasses. “Apart from bringing the files up to date, if Ryder hasn’t found a suitable suspect we can watch, we’ll need to call the Little Gem Saloon in Rainbow and speak to the manager. I checked out the webpage. I’ll need to start on Thursday night and have my picture up in the foyer. I’ve noticed they have a list of dancers and what time they’re onstage.”
“The club is called Tempters.” Styles shook his head. “They’re classy. A costume is going to be a problem.” He waved a hand toward the stores. “Where are you going to get something suitable to wear for pole dancing around here?”
Beth sighed. “You recall those crates that arrived from DC when I sold my apartment?”
“Yeah, I helped to unload them.” Styles glanced at her and groaned. “My back is ruined.”
Beth smiled at the memory; she’d never heard Styles complain before, but it was ten large crates. “There’s a sewing machine, and a stack of material in one of them. I’ve collected things from all over for my undercover work. I’d planned to make a career out of it after cybercrime. I’ll make something suitable to wear tomorrow.” She shrugged at his incredulous expression. “Yeah, I’m domesticated. Please don’t make an issue out of it.”
“You’re like a treasure chest. I never know what secret you’re going to reveal next.” Styles swallowed hard clearly considering something unpleasant. “I hope you’re not planning on actually stripping in front of me? That would be taking our professional partnership way too far.”
Not sure if she should feel hurt by his need to avoid seeing her naked, Beth shook her head. “Not stripping, no. I pole dance and I don’t strip, but I’ll need you to take my photo and book me for a private dance.”
“What?” Styles dropped his mirrored sunglasses and gaped at her. “No way, Beth. That’s not just crossing the line, that’s obliterating it.”
Laughing at his discomfort, Beth leaned back in her seat as they slowed to a stop outside Ryder’s office. “How else do you figure we’re going to communicate?”
“What about coms?” Styles stared straight ahead.
Grinning, Beth leaned toward him. “And where do you suggest I hide the power pack?”
THIRTY-TWO
The sun was low in the sky when they left Ryder’s office and the wind had picked up again. Beth stared into the distance, scanning the sky above the mountains for clouds. It seemed strange to live in such a windy place without a storm coming. She dreaded her first winter, holed up for weeks with a minimal chance of escaping town. What did happen here in winter? She’d need to ask Styles once the case was wound up.
Before the three of them decided to head out to Tommy Joe’s Bar and Grill for supper, they’d discussed the case long and hard, going over every possibility in both cases. The general consensus was that they had enough circumstantial evidence on four men—Joseph Crenshaw, Steve Smith, Jace Conan, and Rowdy Bright—to keep them on the list of suspects. In Beth and Styles’ absence, Ryder had sifted through all other possibles and found only one man lined up as perfect for both murders as their four suspects, but he’d been with a woman on the night of Cassie’s murder, and after interviewing her, Ryder had considered her to be solid.
The plan to go undercover had its problems, and Styles remained unconvinced as they walked back to his truck. Beth stopped walking and stared at him. “Look, I know Steve Smith and Jace Conan met me when we interviewed them, but they saw me without my wig.”
“Exactly, they met you.” Styles rubbed the back of his neck. “What if they show at Rainbow? We know they frequent Tempters. I’d bet they’ll recognize you again, and if one of them is the killer, he’s not going to fall into our trap, is he? If we missed the mark with those guys, then they’ll spread the word you’re an FBI agent.”
Shaking her head, Beth stared at him. It was true, she’d need to bring her A game to fool them, but she’d passed as a man before and she could pass as a stripper. “They won’t recognize me. Did you recognize me when I dressed as a sex worker in San Francisco?”
“No, but I wasn’t looking too closely.” Styles gave her a concerned look. “This is your life on the line, Beth.”
Having changed her appearance so many times before, the idea didn’t faze her at all. “Okay, I’ll leave you to be the judge. If I can’t become Crystal the pole dancer, we’ll call the whole thing off, but until then, we stick to the plan. Okay?”
“Deal.” Styles gave her a lopsided smile. “See, we can compromise. That’s a sign of a good partnership.” He looked at Ryder. “Do you want to ride with us?”
“Nope, I’ll be right behind you.” Ryder grinned. “I’m starving.”
As she climbed into the truck, Beth allowed the plan to filter through her mind. Unfortunately, TJ would be working at his diner on the nights Beth planned on going undercover. The men figured this was a problem, but she refused to miss the chance of flushing out the killer before he struck again. One call and Styles had obtained a suitable miners’ cabin for Beth to call home for a couple of days, and another for Ryder to use overnight. As they walked into Tommy Joe’s Bar and Grill and ordered supper, Beth relaxed. The plan was coming into shape and over dinner Beth had time to go over the details one more time to make sure everyone was on the same page, and although Styles and Ryder were skeptical, it didn’t matter. Confident she could slide into a role and pass as one of the dancers, Beth would allow them a glimpse of her chameleon side.
Excitement shivered through her. She thrived on danger and the thrill of the chase, but this time if the killer took the bait, she’d control her need to take him out permanently and allow Styles and Ryder to apprehend him. This horrendous killer would slip through her net of personal justice because she must protect her dark-side persona at all costs. In any case, she had other, bigger fish to fry. The moment she could get away from Rattlesnake Creek and head to Billings unnoticed, her sights would be set on preventing Levi Jackson from preying on young vulnerable people. With the brutal Levi Jackson, she’d be totally alone and risking her life, but if she stopped him from killing again, it would be worth it.
She noticed Styles looking at her and placed her steak knife on the plate, realizing she’d been gripping it so tight the imprint of the handle was pressed into her palm. Relaxing her shoulders, she absorbed the ambience in the bar. The soft chatter of voices and chinks of silverware on plates mixed with the click and rolling of balls over the pool tables. She inhaled the smell. It was always pleasant, not stinking of stale beer. She imagined Wez, the chef, kept something delicious cooking all the time. It reminded her of a grandma’s kitchen in winter, with comfort food on the stove.
“You’re looking apprehensive.” Styles pushed away his empty plate and sighed. “Not having second thoughts?”
