Page 8 of Shadow Angel
TUESDAY
Alone in the office the following morning, Beth spent her time waiting for Styles to do his preflight check on the chopper by following the updated information on the case that interested her in Eagle Rock. As predicted, another body had been found. She read the autopsy report on the woman. The injuries sustained and the method of disposal were exactly the same as the cold case victims found in Eagle Rock and New Hope. Convinced that Levi Jackson had established a comfort zone, she predicted the next murder would be in a nearby town. If he continued in this pattern, she believed she’d be able to anticipate his next move. However, his kills were usually at least one week apart, so she’d need to be patient.
She searched through the FBI files, surprised that not one of the investigations had included Levi Jackson’s whereabouts at the time of the recent crimes. It would seem that the local FBI agents on the case had completely dismissed Levi Jackson as a possible suspect. She’d need to spend valuable time hunting him down and following his digital trail. It was illegal to track his purchases, but no one could trace anything she did on the dark web. Convinced Jackson would be feeling confident since the acquittal for the other kidnapping, he’d no doubt own a regular phone for his handyman business. The fact he placed notices on community boards for work and also got jobs by word of mouth was mentioned in his trial. A phone could be traced as well, but getting a list of calls would be too risky. The credit card trace would just have to do. The investigation never mentioned a second phone, the one he would have used for the abduction of Natalie Kingsley. It only made sense that the phone number he used on the flyers advertising a cheap room for rent came from a burner and he destroyed it the moment he lured a woman into his van.
Convinced Jackson moved in a regular pattern, she knew that tracing his movements wouldn’t be too difficult once she had a starting point. Finding one of his notices would be her prime objective, but as he was known around town, she assumed, speaking to people in the lumber yard or general store would achieve a result. The only problem would be getting away from Styles for a day to investigate. Once she had enough information, she’d use the dark web to track him. On there, no one would ever suspect her involvement. Jackson needed to be stopped. He was smart and as slippery as an eel. She would bring him to justice, but in the meantime, how many more women and children would die by his hand?
Forcing her mind back to the Cassie Burnham case, Beth saved her secret research files on Jackson to a special folder hidden on the dark web just as the door rattled and Styles entered the office. She quickly changed the page to her email and smiled as a link to an audio file dropped in her mailbox. It was Ryder’s interview with the four men taken into custody the previous evening. She looked up at Styles and smiled. “The audio files have just arrived. Do you want to listen to them now or later?”
“Did Ryder send any notes?” Styles went to the coffee machine and filled a Thermos. “If so, copy them to your phone. If we don’t find anything, we’ll discuss them in the chopper.” He turned to look at her. “The light is good at the moment, but cloud cover is expected this afternoon. If we have a chance of finding any trace of Cassie Burnham we need to leave now.”
Beth sent the notes to her phone and when it chimed a message, she closed her computer and stood to grab her coat. “Okay, done.”
“While I was refueling the chopper, I had a call from one of the forest wardens.” Styles followed her into the elevator and they headed for the roof. “He hasn’t noticed any great increase in birds over the forest and suggested searching the lowlands. Apparently one of the hunters mentioned seeing a few murders of crows around, so I figured we’ll circle around and see what we can find.”
Beth followed him onto the roof and walked into a blast of arctic wind. “It’s freezing up here.”
“Tell me about it.” Styles pulled gloves from his pocket. “I’ve been up here for almost an hour. It’s going to be a difficult takeoff in the high wind, but we’ll be okay.”
After climbing inside and shutting the door, Beth attached her seatbelt and pulled on headphones. It had taken a few trips for her to get used to riding in the chopper. Styles was a good pilot but fearless, and sometimes he scared her a little when they traveled through the mountains, barely missing the trees or the rocky outcrops at high speed. The lowlands sounded much better. She sat back to enjoy the scenery, searching all around for flocks of birds. “Over there to the right. I think that’s crows just above the wheatgrass.”
“I see them.” Styles moved the chopper around in an arc and they swooped over the crows scattering them like buckshot. “I’ll take her down.”
They landed and she turned to Styles. “I’ll go.”
Jumping down from the chopper, she ran through the golden wheatgrass. The smell of death crawled up her nostrils, making her gag. She pulled up her sweater to cover her mouth and, heart pounding, she moved closer. The tall grass was restricting her view and she pushed past it and stopped dead at the half-eaten carcass of what looked like a deer. She turned and followed her path back to the chopper. Breathing hard, she climbed back inside and dropped into her seat. “Animal.”
“Okay.” Styles took the chopper up again and they circled for a time before he headed west. “There are some ranches over this way. We might as well check them as well. Some of them are deserted. The land was purchased by the mining companies years ago and never mined.”
It took a few minutes before Beth realized a cabin’s black roof was moving. “I see crows on the roof of a cabin. All just sitting there like they’re waiting for something.”
The chopper landed and Styles climbed out, leaving the rotor blades spinning. Beth ducked low and followed him to the house. She didn’t have to sniff the air to smell death. “Well, something around here has died, that’s for sure.”
They circled the cabin and finding nothing, Beth followed Styles to the front door. The place was deserted, dusty rags hung from the windows. The gutters overflowed with grass and at one end a sapling had taken root. Beth looked all around, scanning the dirt road. “It looks like someone has been here. Nothing distinctive but the grass is bent over like a truck has driven over it recently more than once.”
“This place is old.” Styles indicated to the front door. “The paint is flaking off all over. I figure it’s been deserted for over twenty years, but the stink sure leads here. There’s no animal damage, but there’s evidence someone was here recently. I figure we’ve found Cassie Burnham.” He switched on his flashlight. “Can you cope with a decomposed body?”
A shiver of apprehension slid down Beth’s spine. He had to be joking and she stared at him frowning. “Hmm. Let me see. Maybe you need to carry me over the threshold as it’s our first in-house murder?”
“Ah, no.” Styles snorted. He stared at her over the top of his sunglasses before he removed them and slowly pushed them into his top pocket. He gave her the killer stare he had, the one that would stop most people in their tracks, as if evaluating the situation and then suddenly burst out laughing. “Oh, no.” He wiped at his face. “I haven’t laughed in a situation like this for years. It makes me feel guilty.” He shook his head. “You have the weirdest sense of humor.” He raised one eyebrow. “I’m used to people being serious all the time. In the Army, people don’t joke around the dead.”
Concerned she might have given him the wrong impression, she shook her head. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive toward the victim, not at all. Mac always said my filter is faulty in situations like this.”
“I know what you mean.” Styles waved her toward the door. “Let’s get at it and I’ll tell you a story about me on the way home. What happened was totally inappropriate at the time. I later discovered that nervous laughter or bad jokes are a psychological response to anxiety and tension. So, if this is an outlet for stress, Beth, I understand.” He tried the door. “It’s open. Keep back. Just in case someone is inside.”
Pressing the flat of her left hand on the weathered wooden door, Beth pushed it open. A blast of disgusting smell leaked out and she suppressed a gag. “FBI. Is anyone inside? Call out.”
Nothing.
A loud bang came from inside, the noise echoing like a ricochet through the house. In the same second a blast of foul air shot out the door. Expecting someone to come out blasting, Beth ducked and ran alongside the house. Heart hammering, with her back to the wall, she drew her weapon as Styles flattened himself against the outside of the house beside her. “What was that?”
“I hope it was just a door slamming inside. Or we’ve got company.” Styles leaned against the wall beside her, his .357 Magnum hanging down at his side. “Wait and listen. If someone is in there, chances are they’ll shoot again. If nothing happens, we’ll go inside and take a look.”
They waited in silence listening, but it was only the whoosh of wind as it brushed the top of the wheatgrass and the squawks as crows once again descended on the house that broke the silence. Five long minutes passed before Beth turned to Styles. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” Styles rubbed the tip of his nose. “Although I’m not looking forward to it.”
Pulling face masks from her pocket, Beth thrust one at Styles before placing one over her face and then searched her pockets for examination gloves. She passed him a pair. “Here. Want me to go first?”
