Page 11 of Shadow Angel
“You’re preaching to the choir.” Styles smiled at him and held up evidence bags. “I’m hoping to fill these.”
Wolfe nodded. “Okay, as soon as Webber is done, we’ll go inside.”
Noticing Beth had walked over to speak to Emily, he lowered his voice. “Is Beth settling in okay?”
“Better than okay.” Styles rubbed the scar on his chin and met his gaze. “She’s kinda out there, you know. She skirts around the rules some like me. She’s not afraid of anything and can fight like a wildcat. I’ll tell you about her encounter with a group of drunken louts over a drink sometime.” He winked. “She is one of the best investigators I’ve had the pleasure to work with. I’m not sure what Mac’s true intention was for sending her here. I’m starting to believe it was to keep an eye on me. She’s a good agent and I hope she remains here for a long time.”
Pleasantly surprised, Wolfe nodded. “She’s not backing away from crime scenes? Acting depressed or withdrawn?”
“The opposite.” Styles frowned. “I have to rein her in. It’s all good.” He slapped Wolfe on the back. “Best partner I’ve ever had.”
“Shane, I’m done with the footprints.” Webber appeared in the doorway. “I’ll go ahead and record the scene.”
Steeling himself, Wolfe followed him inside. Crime scenes didn’t keep him awake at night but his compassion for the victims often knotted his stomach. Using his flashlight, he moved through a small mudroom. Pegs along one wall held a very old slicker. On a bench sat a pair of leather gloves covered in cobwebs. They still held the shape of the last hands that had worn them. Taking the lead, he moved inside the family room. A dust-covered sofa had been turned to face the hallway running through the cabin to the back door. Long glossy hair tumbled over the back of the chair, moving in the breeze from the door. Long bare arms discolored by livor mortis stretched out along the top of the sofa. He stepped closer and bent to look at the hands and then turned to Webber. “Get a close-up of the arms.”
He waved everyone closer. “The arms are stitched to the sofa using embroidery floss.” He frowned staring at it. “The sutures have bled.” He lifted his gaze to the shocked faces. “She was alive when he did this.”
“This killer is sadistic.” Beth shook her head and anger flashed in her eyes.
Checking out the floor before he moved, Wolfe stepped around the sofa. Even after being forewarned, the distorted clownlike face startled him. The naked woman was posed indecently and he pushed down the need to cover her. He always maintained a victim’s dignity, but in this case, it was vital evidence of a seriously deranged mind. He examined the body, took the temperature, and shook his head. There was no obvious cause of death. He’d discovered some discoloration of the scalp and superficial grazes on her knees and palms. He moved the victim’s head. The neck wasn’t broken. His attention moved to a silver glint in one of her ears. He bent closer and exhaled. He glanced at Beth. “I figure that’s a spike in her ear. I’ll know more during the autopsy but that might be the cause of death.”
“He was a busy boy.” Beth shook her head and followed him around the chair and stood beside him. “The behavioral analyst you work with, Jo Wells, would be very interested in this case. Posing a woman like that means something special to him. I figured I knew how a psychopath’s mind works, but this one beats all.” She glanced at Styles. “He must have had some crazy childhood.”
“That is nothing like Cassie Burnham.” Ryder shook his head. “Well, apart from the hair.”
“I figure the killer changed the features to fit his fantasy.” Styles glanced at Beth. “You’ve always said these killers are acting out a fantasy. He’s made her fit, is all.”
Intrigued, Wolfe examined the victim’s face. Crude stitches had lifted the mouth and held open the eyes. The makeup was thick and applied without care, yet the hair was immaculate. He leaned forward. “He’s taken a trophy. There’s a chunk of hair missing.” He looked at the others. “Spread out and do a grid search.” He shook his head. “I do have one concern about this homicide.”
“Which is?” Beth stared at him.
Wolfe turned back to the body and indicated to Emily to bag the victim’s hands. He looked over one shoulder at Beth. She was composed and interested in what was happening. “This isn’t his first kill. From the planning, posing, and returning. He’s done this before, and I’d say many times.”
TWELVE
Intrigued by the mind of the killer, and the extent this one went to complete their fantasy, Beth walked around the body a number of times, taking in every intricate detail. This killer had been so careful not to leave any trace of himself behind, and once the body was bagged and on the gurney, she meticulously examined every inch of the sofa looking for evidence. She removed the cushions and searched underneath. She found a thin leather strip, like a hair tie, and a coin before holding out each cushion for Webber to allow him to collect any hairs with a handheld vacuum cleaner. All around her people were searching every inch of the cabin. She replaced the cushions and followed the footprints to the back door, turning to look back into the family room. Had he placed the body to shock anyone who stumbled over it—or was it there as a greeting? She beckoned Styles. “Look at this through my eyes for a minute. We were shocked, right, when we saw the victim, but what if he arranged her that way to greet him when he came to visit?”
“You saying that seeing a naked dead woman smiling at him was a turn on?” Styles stared at her for a long time and then moved his attention back to the family room. “Oh, that’s real sick.” He blew out a long breath. “Necrophiliacs are real, so it’s possible. I agree with you. The agent out at Snakeskin Gully, Jo Wells, would be interested in this killer. Maybe we should speak to her and think about taking this case. I figure Ryder is way out of his depth on this one. I’ll ask him if he wants to call us in officially. Do you agree?”
Nodding, Beth looked around, avoiding Styles’ penetrating gaze. Calling in Special Agent Jo Wells would be a double-edged sword. If she was as good as everyone said, she might be placing her own head in a noose. Then again, they didn’t have to invite her to Rattlesnake Creek, a phone call would suffice. “Yeah, I do want this case and we can contact Jo Wells when we get back to the office.”
“Okay, I’ll go speak to Ryder now.” Styles headed in his direction.
An inquisitive itch jumped around inside Beth’s brain. There was a spike in the victim’s ear and she’d used a hatpin in the same way many a time to dispose of a killer, and the idea of someone else copying her seemed to be having a strange effect on her. On the one hand, the idea intrigued her, on the other it made her vulnerable in ways only she could understand. Over the years she’d varied the method of her executions, mainly to confuse the cops working on the case, but the hatpin was a favorite. She’d also discovered since working in the FBI that most law enforcement officers didn’t exactly bust a gut chasing down the murderer of a serial killer. In fact, the FBI hadn’t formed a taskforce to hunt down the Tarot Killer. Although, they had issued a shoot-to-kill order for her, no one was actually looking for her. She guessed that not being the only serial killer in the USA meant that there were many taskforces across the country hunting down other psychopaths with far less kills.
Dragging her mind back to the case at hand, she walked back through the kitchen and into the family room. The rest of the team was collecting evidence bags and placing them all in a plastic container. She walked over to Wolfe. “We want to take over this case, once we’ve cleared it with Ryder. I agree with you. I think this guy has killed before and will likely do again very soon.” She sighed. “When are you doing the autopsy?”
“I usually complete the autopsy in the morgue at Black Rock Falls.” Wolfe stared at her over his face mask. “If you could collect DNA samples from Cassie Burnham’s residence, I’d be able to make a positive ID. With or without a positive ID, as it’s a homicide, I’ll be conducting the autopsy at ten in the morning. Are you planning on attending?”
“I think we should.” Styles had moved up beside her and turned to Wolfe. “Will I be able to drop our chopper down on the roof of the medical examiner’s building?”
“Yeah, sure.” Wolfe nodded. “I have room for four of them up there. If you mention it to Jo Wells, she might be interested in attending as well. She has Agent Ty Carter to fly her and an FBI chopper at her disposal. They’re a great team. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”
Beth’s stomach went into freefall but she found herself nodding at his suggestion. “Sure, we need all the help we can get with this case right now.”
“I’m done here.” Wolfe glanced around at his team. “I’ll see y’all in the morning. Don’t forget those DNA samples, now. Bring them along and I’ll process them. I can get a result in a couple of hours. You know what I need, right? Toothbrush, hairbrush, used tissues, underwear are all great sources of DNA.”
“We’ll go and check out her place now.” Styles followed him to the door. “Her personal belongings, including her house keys, are at Ryder’s office.” He glanced over at Ryder. “We’ll give you a ride back to town so Wolfe doesn’t need to make a stop.”
