Page 40 of Shadow Angel
FORTY-TWO
Beth pulled up outside the motel and walked inside, making her stride wider than usual. The man on the front desk didn’t even request an ID, and just snatched up the bills before sliding a key across to her without more than a sidelong glance. He’d given her an end room as requested, and after leaving her ride outside the door, she went inside. The room was clean but old and held a slight smell of disinfectant. She dumped the duffel on the bed and went to the bathroom. It was cold inside and the tattered wings of dead moths caught in a flyscreen over a large bathroom window fluttered in the breeze. With ease, she lifted out the screen and tried the window to see how wide it would open. To her surprise it slid outward on greased sliders, leaving plenty of room for her to slip out. The side of the motel led to a grassy mound covered with bushes. It was all she needed to slip away into the darkness.
She went about carefully removing her disguise. She’d need it for the trip back to Spring Grove and packed it neatly into plastic containers. Once back in Rattlesnake Creek, she’d add the clothes and boots to a carton of garbage and incinerate them. Should Styles question her, which she doubted, she’d say it was garbage from the cabin. She checked the time. The bus wasn’t arriving for three hours. After taking a long hot shower, she locked the bathroom window and crawled into bed. She set the alarm on her phone and went to sleep.
Waking in darkness to the eerie music on her phone, Beth sat up. Excitement sizzled through her and, instantly fully awake, she went to the bathroom and washed her face. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and grinned. It was time to begin the elaborate transformation. Jackson had a hankering for country girls, sweet and innocent, young and poor. Her kit held everything she needed and she went to work using makeup techniques to change her appearance. Satisfied with the new shape of her face, she added a shoulder-length dull brown wig. Her full lips turned down and gave her a sad expression. It would fool anyone. She’d chosen her clothes with care, jeans and a sweater. The boots she’d purchased years ago from a charity shop were worn but had sturdy heels. She needed good heels to fight. Footwear could save her life. She added a woolen cap and thrust two hatpins in either side. These weapons ensured her wig wouldn’t be torn off in a struggle and produced an almost bloodless kill. They were perfect. She ran a finger over the silver tops and tingles surged up her fingers.
After shrugging into a brown hip-length jacket, she twirled around to see her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dull country girl had emerged from her cocoon. She went to her rucksack and removed the container holding one of her tarot cards. Using the dark web, she’d had them made in the UK and collected them during a vacation. Machine-printed and packed like rare baseball cards, each in individually sealed packets, meant they were untraceable, with no prints and no record of them being manufactured. She smiled and turned the card over in her hand. Like millions of others, Beth used the dark web to her advantage. It gave surfing the net a whole new meaning. The cards she’d stashed in a variety of places, making them accessible when necessary. Criminals she trusted could always access them and anything else she needed. Her network of highly paid associates was reliable. All of them knew the penalty if they crossed her, but funnily enough, not one had ever tried. She’d seriously considered using them to purchase her undercover truck and the warehouse, but time was limited. Going forward, she’d make sure she had more time to organize things, so she didn’t place herself in danger of being on a suspect’s list.
Suddenly concerned, she scanned the room. She’d need to leave some of her things behind, at least the car keys, clothes, and disguises. Deciding the chances of being disturbed by housekeeping at this time of night were practically zero, she slid her things under the bed. After hanging a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob, she turned out the lights. She grabbed her duffel, slipped out of the bathroom window, shutting it to leave a small gap, and disappeared into the darkness.
The night was crisp and a cloud of vapor drifted from her mouth. Glad of her leather gloves, she kept to the shadows, rounded the bus station, and slid between two parked buses. The next bus arrived in minutes, and in a squeal of breaks and huffing sounds, the doors opened and people streamed out. Keeping her head down, Beth merged into the crowd. Most of the passengers came down the steps, shoulders slumped as if tired. Some went to waiting vehicles or a person’s open arms, others trudged to the roadhouse. She kept in step with the last group and went inside, glad to join the line for a hot beverage and whatever was on offer at ten at night. When she reached the counter, she ordered a large skinny latte and fries. When she paid in cash, they gave her a number to display on her table. She headed for a table near the noticeboard, placed her number on it, and then joined a few people staring at the noticeboard. Most were hunting down rides with truckers. A list written in chalk detailed the times of departure and destination. Her attention zeroed in on Jackson’s flyer. If someone was watching her, she needed to be convincing and bent to read it slowly. Heart thundering, she reached out and plucked the notice from the board. Her fingers trembled as she stared at the final line.Interested? Call Bill.
Mixed emotions surged through her. She’d been right about everything. She’d found Levi Jackson and now all she needed to do was become his next victim.
FORTY-THREE
The roadhouse buzzed with conversation and the chinking of silverware as Beth stared out of the window. Without being obvious, she scanned the parking lot for Jackson’s signature white van and almost missed it. Parked in the shadows of the trees surrounding the perimeter, it was barely visible. Her meal arrived, and after adding extra sugar to her cup, she sipped her coffee, her gaze on the flyer. It was crudely made and printed on regular paper. She pulled out her phone and, trembling with expectation, called the number. It answered on the fourth ring.
“You got Bill. What can I do for you?”
Trying to keep her voice calm, Beth used her little girl voice. “I’m calling about the room. Is it still available?”
“You sound very young. You haven’t run away from home have you, sweetheart?”
His voice was sugar sweet, manipulative, and charming. Recognizing him as one of her own kind, Beth smiled to herself. “No I’m eighteen and I can do what I please. My pa owned a ranch. I know this job is probably for a man but I’m a good worker and I need a place to stay. Will you give me the chance to prove I can work hard?”
“As I’ve had no takers, I’ll give you a week to prove you have what it takes. It’s getting late, you’ll need to come now. I’m not planning on staying up past midnight for you.”
After reading the statement of Natalie Kingsley, the victim who’d escaped, Beth could almost hear Jackson’s words before he spoke them. She blew out a long sigh for his benefit. “I came on the bus. I don’t have any way of getting to your ranch at this time of night.”
“Then it’s just as well my wife needed a hot apple pie from the roadhouse or I wouldn’t be close by. I just reached my van.”He sounded breathless.“Come out front and I’ll give you a ride. What are you wearing?”
Beth smiled. “Brown coat, black hat, jeans. How will I know you?”
“I’ll flash my lights.”He disconnected.
Running Natalie Kingsley’s statement through her mind, Beth stuffed the last few fries into her mouth and washed them down with coffee. She noticed her hand tremble slightly and gave herself a mental shake. He wouldn’t kill her until he’d raped her, which gave her time to take him down, but if he restrained her, she wouldn’t be able to use her hatpin and would be at his mercy. From Natalie’s description of Jackson, he was strong and heavy, so that usually meant muscular. How could she prevent him from getting her inside the van? Fighting in a restricted area would be suicide.
Pushing down a wave of uncertainty, Beth walked through the glass doors to the roadhouse and scanned the parking lot. Her eyes came to rest on the flashing lights of the white van she’d noticed previously conveniently waiting outside the range of the CCTV cameras. Legs heavy and heart pounding like a military tattoo, she hurried across the parking lot. The van window buzzed down and a man in shadow poked out his head.
“The door is open. Jump in. It’s getting cold.” Jackson’s teeth flashed as he grinned.
Beth ran around the hood, opened the door, and jumped in. Immediately, Jackson grabbed her duffel and threw it into the void behind his seat. She checked his features and had no doubt it was Jackson. This man must be dumb to keep calling himself Bill when he abducted women. If another one escaped and told the same story as Natalie, he’d have been in jail by now. How the investigators had allowed him to slip through the net was mind-blowing.
Beth fastened her seatbelt and sat back waiting for him to speak. When he said nothing, she turned to look at him. “How far is your ranch?”
“Not far. There’s a dirt road through the woods a couple of miles away. I’ll take a shortcut to the cabins. That’s where we keep the ranch hands.” Jackson smiled at her. “Do your parents know you’re out here on your lonesome?”
Shaking her head, Beth gave him a sideways glance and went back to checking out the cab for weapons. “I’m all alone now but I do okay.”
As the van chewed up the miles, her mind was working overtime. She could see the scenes described by Natalie playing out like a well-rehearsed drama. Jackson wasn’t as smart as she’d imagined. He’d not only used the same name on the flyer, but was following the exact MO. The last murders happened in secluded places, wooded areas, and there was no lack of them in this county. She sighed. Perhaps he figured if his plan worked, why change it? Or was this all part of his reoccurring fantasy? Maybe not, because young women weren’t his only targets. He’d murdered mothers and young children as well. The sick freak.
Without warning, the van turned sharply and bounced down a dirt road cut between trees. As the headlights illuminated a way ahead, she spotted picnic tables and a small building containing bathrooms. Through the trees, moonlight reflected on fast-flowing water. A light mist drifted across the trail, giving the forest a spooky feel. This must be a popular rest area for travelers. Acting dumb, Beth looked at him when he stopped the van. “Why are we here?”
“The back of the cabin is through those trees. We’ll need to walk from here.” Jackson slid from his seat and opened the sliding door to the side of his van. “Grab your things.”
Natalie’s statement flashed through Beth’s mind. If she went into the van, he’d hit her from behind, overpower her, and restrain her. That couldn’t happen. Trembling with uncertainty, she went around the back of the van, the opposite choice to Natalie, and stood staring at him. From the light inside the van, she made out his confused expression followed by a flash of anger.
