Page 13 of Shadow Angel
“True.” Styles scratched his head. “You mentioned that psychopathic serial killers are all different but the one thing they all have is the need to kill, right?”
Wondering where this was going, Beth avoided his penetrating gaze by bending to grab a sandwich from the refrigerator under the counter. “Yeah, from my studies of Jo Wells’ books and others, it certainly seems to be true. Why?”
“So, if it’s easier to murder high-risk people to fill the need to kill, why does the Tarot Killer kill dangerous serial killers and advertise his involvement by leaving a tarot card behind? Does he want to be caught or is he thumbing his nose at law enforcement?”
Impressed by his insight, Beth blew out a breath. “He is an atypical serial killer that’s for sure. It’s something you need to discuss with Jo Wells. She’s the expert.”
“But you must have an opinion.” Styles went to the refrigerator and collected a pile of food. “He can’t have a fantasy, can he? All his victims are different.”
Refilling her cup from the pot, Beth turned to look at him. “It depends on how you look at them as a whole. Maybe the Tarot Killer’s trigger is vengeance. From what I’m seeing, he only takes out those killers who can’t be stopped. He watches the cops running in circles while the killings keep on happening and then says, ‘enough is enough’ and takes them out himself. The card is him saying, ‘I did this for humanity.’ I don’t think it’s a snub. Some of the killers he took down were killing kids. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’m glad he stopped them killing—someone had to.”
FIFTEEN
Leaving Styles to hunt down missing persons cases, Beth went back to her desk. Her reply to his question had received a nod without a comment. She’d seen a spark of amusement in his eyes, and figured he liked her speaking her mind. Her attention went back to the Levi Jackson case. She’d found killers’ whereabouts from various sources over the time she’d started her vigilante quest, but one message board hidden on the dark web contained stories from released prisoners. She had visited it many a time to discover the whereabouts of serial killers. She scanned the message board, flying past posts that were irrelevant to her search. There were a few interesting posts. One in particular caught her eye. Levi Jackson didn’t have much of an imagination as it seemed he always referred to himself as Bill to his victims, so when this name came up in one of the posts, Beth’s attention went straight to it. It was from a cellmate who mentioned while being held in county awaiting trial that he’d shared a cell with someone he would refer to as Bill. He mentioned how exciting it was speaking to him. Bill had crowed about getting women inside his van on the pretense of renting a room at his ranch. He’d driven them to a secluded area and then raped and murdered them.
The description of the murders fit Levi Jackson’s MO. Beth wanted to punch the air when she noticed a link. She clicked on it and found the page titled Bill’s Kills. The description rambled on about how he loved to sleep with the bodies and how he reluctantly took them to a remote location to bury them in shallow graves, covering each of them with tree branches and cuttings taken from his own front yard. She looked deeper, going through the code line by line until she discovered another link to Jackson’s posts. After bypassing a number of encryptions, she found the photo gallery. Suddenly glad she was facing Styles’ desk and he couldn’t see over her shoulder, she opened each image file. Shocked to the core, she moved from one file to the next. The sickening images seemed endless. Jackson had murdered at least thirty victims. Her pulse raced and her dark side rose up determined to prevent this maniac from killing vulnerable women and kids again.
Calm down.Trying hard to control her rage, Beth meticulously backtracked on the site, leaving no trace of her being there or leaving a history on her hard drive. She needed to think straight. Right now, she couldn’t get away to hunt down Levi Jackson, but she could anticipate his next move. From the evidence he moved from state to state, county to county, establishing a comfort zone between two or three neighboring towns. He spread out his kills between the towns and had become as predictable as the sun rising the following day. Unfortunately, due to her situation at the moment, he would keep on killing until she could stop him, but it was only a matter of time. She stared at her computer screen.I’m coming for you, Levi.
Beth used the time finishing her lunch to pull her emotions back under control. After washing her cup and dumping her garbage, she went to Styles’ desk. “Find any missing persons?”
“Nope. No women. There is a kid missing in Helena and the two girls from our last case are still missing.” He looked at her. “Find anything interesting?”
Leaning one hip on his desk, Beth shook her head. “Nothing we can use. We’ll need to hunt down possible suspects if we plan to move forward. I figure we go and visit Outlaws and ask them really nicely if they would allow us to see the list of people who hold tabs there. It would give us some idea who might be a suspect in the Cassie Burnham case. We need to know who was there on Friday night, when she went missing. I don’t think it was a random thrill kill. It was too well planned. He must have organized the cabin to stash her body and he knew her movements. He also knew she left alone, and as she worked the same shift on the same days each week, it’s either one of the men working there, a security guard or one of the staff, or a regular at the club. Nothing else makes sense.”
“Hmm, that would be a ton of people. Although maybe not so many in Outlaws. We’ll need to get a warrant. The privacy laws in Montana won’t allow a club to just hand over information.” He rubbed the scar on his chin. “Do we have probable cause or a darn good reason for obtaining the information?”
Thinking for a beat, Beth sighed. “We have reason to believe that the killer is one of the patrons, due to witnesses statements saying that a number of men acted hostile toward Cassie during her performances. If we could narrow it down to what men were at the club the night she disappeared, including the staff, it would give us a list of suspects to interview.” She sucked in a breath. “That’s all I’ve got. You?”
“That might work, especially if we show the judge a photograph of the crime scene. I’ll type it up. Being FBI, we’re in with a chance.” Styles set to work and five minutes later the printer whirred. “Okay, we’ll take it over now.” He stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “Maybe I’ll make it clear we need to stop this guy before he kills again.”
A shiver walked down Beth’s spine as she grabbed her coat. “I just hope he hasn’t already struck again.”
SIXTEEN
With Bear on their heels, they headed down to the parking lot and climbed into Styles’ truck. The icy chill of winter still lingered through spring and as the afternoon closed around them the temperature dropped considerably. People walked along the sidewalk on Main, heads bent against the blustery wind gusts, bundled up in thick coats, some with brightly colored scarfs wrapped around their faces. Beth would have preferred remaining inside the warm truck with Bear. As Styles cranked up the heating for him, Beth pulled her woolen cap over her ears and slid from the seat. An arctic blast lifted Beth’s coat and Styles held his hat to prevent losing it as they walked up the steps into the courthouse. The courthouse was an old building built from granite hewn from the mountainside. From the metal plaque attached to the building proclaiming its long history, it had been built during early settlement and for many years had been used as a courthouse and jail. Inside was quiet and their footsteps echoed through deserted hallways. Beth peered down corridors, seeing no one. The building smelled like a library, old books, and printing ink. “It’s like a morgue in here.”
“The action happens on Thursdays and Fridays unless the judge decides otherwise.” Styles smiled at her. “Not that there’s much crime in Rattlesnake Creek, but the judge and lawyers still keep office hours.”
Beth snorted. “It sounds like a waste of taxpayers’ money. Maybe he should be a circuit judge and travel around.”
“I figure people think that about law enforcement.” Styles grinned at her. “Sometimes we’re out fishing between cases and Ryder watches TV most days but we’re there when needed.”
Beth shrugged. “I guess, but we do travel to other counties and states some of the time.”
They reached the judge’s office and entered the small room. After speaking to the secretary, they were shown into the judge’s office. He held the paperwork in one hand and peered at them over half-moon glasses. The overhead light glistened on his balding pate between the carefully combed wisps of hair. His eyebrows reminded Beth of an owl, black and at least an inch long sticking out like feathers. She had a moment of inappropriate hilarity as she wondered if he’d grown them to brush over his bald head. She quickly glanced away.
“If you were Ryder, I’d deny this request without hesitation, but I figure you have something you’re not telling me or don’t want on the public record.” The judge leaned back in his stuffed leather chair and eyed them like a raptor.
“Yeah, we need to catch this killer before he kills again.” Styles accessed his image files and held out his phone. “I don’t want to cause a panic if this information gets out, Your Honor. Right now, we have no solid evidence apart from what the other dancers have told us, and we need to narrow down a list of suspects. Knowing who was at the club on Friday night is crucial.”
“I see.” The judge took the phone and scrolled through the images. The color drained from his face. “To think this animal is walking our streets. I’m going to add an addendum to the request. I’ll add credit card receipts. When you have a list of suspects, give me the names and I’ll make out a warrant for their bank accounts. I had a case some years ago involving the gentlemen’s club. I discovered that some of the patrons use their credit cards to obtain a stack of bills to give to the dancers as tips or whatever. The cash withdrawals are via an ATM and don’t show as coming from the club on their bank records. They also pay in cash for a private dance. These men are up close and personal with the dancers, so someone you should consider. If you need anything else, my door is always open.” He made notes on the document and signed it. He handed it to Styles. “Do your best to catch this menace, son.” He waved him away.
Outside in the hallway, Beth grinned at him. “That was easy. He likes you.”
“His son died in action.” Styles’ expression was solemn. “I guess I remind him of him.” He shrugged. “We’ll head over to Outlaws and get the information. It’s going to take us forever to go through everything.”
Smiling, Beth turned to him. “All we need are the names of everyone who was at the club on Friday night and the regular customers who dropped by over the time Cassie was working. It can’t be that many people. We’ll shoot the names over to the judge and once we have a warrant for their bank accounts, I’ll run them through a search program, adding the perimeters, times, and date, and we’ll get a list. The only drawback is if he used cash.” She met his gaze as they walked back to the truck. “The club would know the regulars; we can push for their names and the staff. A court order like ours is powerful. Clubs don’t want any trouble. I’m sure they’ll fold and give us the information. I figure there are the regular townsfolk and groups of miners who work the same shifts. It will be easy to confirm who was or wasn’t working Friday night.”
