Page 20 of Dark Angel
“Nope. I loved her and we went to counseling and tried to work through her insecurities. I figured we had everything under control, but then one day I was out on a job when she showed.” He opened a bottle of water and sipped. “I’d been interviewing the same woman about her husband over a few days. It was a murder case and part of a serial killer investigation we were doing at the time. I was speaking to her on her front porch, when out of nowhere Sharon came running toward me. Before I could react, she pulled a gun and shot the woman. She didn’t kill her and, long story short, she’s doing time and won’t be out anytime soon. So, I filed for divorce.” He met her gaze. “It kept me awake for a time wondering what I did wrong. This is the reason I accepted the position in Rattlesnake Creek, to get right away from all the memories. I don’t visit her or have any contact with her whatsoever and it’s been years. She said things to me after the incident that I’ll never forget or forgive.”
Surprised that Styles had confided such a personal part of his life to her, she nodded. “Coercive control is what they call that type of behavior. It happens due to a number of different problems. The controller can be a narcissist or have borderline personality issues. It can start off small and escalate into physical abuse.” She cleared her throat. Could she actually be feeling empathy for Styles? A strong man like him, to have suffered at the hands of someone he obviously loved must have been very difficult. “I honestly think when things like this happen in our lives it only makes us stronger.”
“Ha!” Styles leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. “I don’t know about making me stronger, but I am more careful about the women I choose to befriend, that’s for darn sure.” He gave her a scrutinizing stare. “Okay, fess up. I showed you mine, now you show me yours. What dark secret are you hiding? What happened to you to make you so hungry to bring down serial killers?”
Fortunately, being gullible wasn’t one of her traits and his opening up and laying bare details of his disastrous marriage told her more about his true character than he’d ever realize. He might have a tough, uncaring exterior, but in truth, to tolerate spousal mental abuse to such a degree was a true indication of a deeply caring man. She ate her sandwich, chewing slowly to mull over his question. Her past life wasn’t a secret. What happened to her as a child, the time in foster care, and the adoption were all on record. When she joined the FBI, her troubled past was taken into consideration. At the time, she’d passed all the psych tests and everything else they put her through with flying colors. In fact, she outscored many of the men in her class. She wondered if this was a test, for surely if Styles had been asked to supply the director with an assessment of her work in the field, he would have been advised of her past. She shrugged and met his gaze full on, hoping that her dark side wouldn’t creep to the surface and reveal itself. “I don’t have any secrets. My life is an open book. I don’t have any stories to tell you about past lovers because I haven’t met Mr. Right yet.” She could almost see him regroup and try another tactic. “Is that what you mean, because not having a steady doesn’t really relate to the job does it?”
“I was thinking more in the lines of why you decided the FBI was for you.” Styles shrugged. “We all have a reason to want to take down criminals. It’s not everyone’s first choice of employment.”
Beth nodded. “Ah, I see where you’re coming from. My father is a serial killer and I’m trying to make things right.”
“You can’t be held responsible for what he did.” Styles bit into his sandwich and chewed slowly. “Did you ever witness anything?”
Shaking her head, Beth lifted her sandwich to her mouth and hoped he couldn’t read a lie in her expression, as the memory of seeing her father murder a young woman flashed into her mind. Her father’s actions had changed her forever and triggered the dark side lying dormant in her genes. After witnessing her mother’s death by his hand and years of suffering in foster care, she hated her father for creating the monster inside her. Bringing the burning need to kill under control had taken all her willpower, and from that day on she’d vowed to make serial killers pay for destroying families.
“No, thank goodness. The psychiatrist tried hypnotism, but if anything happened in front of me, I’ve blocked it out. I could have retrograde amnesia. If so, it will likely never surface. I don’t remember anything before my mom died, and first thing I recall is being told my mom had died. The next thing, I was in foster care without a clue of where I came from or any memories of a family. I didn’t know my father was a serial killer until I turned eighteen—or that he’d killed my mom and fifteen other women. My adopted parents decided I should know the truth. It played on my mind for a long time, still does. The moment I left college, I applied to join the FBI. After researching ways of finding serial killers, I decided to put my skills in computer science to work in cybercrime, but I needed to be on the job and asked to work some cases in the field. The director figured I was perfect for undercover gigs because I’d been hidden in cybercrime and I can take care of myself. I went through the training and went to work. It was interesting being inside the lion’s den.” She leaned back in her chair. “After the last undercover gig, I went back into cybercrime and then they put me out on the streets. It was good being out of the office.”
“So, what happened to your dad?” Styles rubbed the scar on his chin.
The thought of him made her stomach churn. “I know my father is still alive in jail somewhere but I’ve never wanted to discover where he is or even what he looks like now. As far as I’m concerned, he can rot there.”
“They say it can be hereditary.” Styles finished his sandwich. “Does that worry you?”
Beth laughed. “Aw, come on, Styles, be honest with me. What you really want to know is, do I have a hankering to murder someone?”
“Well, do you?” Styles sipped his water and stared at her, his expression solemn.
“Yeah, when I see a kid raped and murdered, I want to tear the perp apart with my bare hands.” Beth raised both eyebrows. “I’m told that’s a normal reaction. The abnormal reaction is doing it.”
TWENTY-ONE
After arriving in San Francisco, they were met by Agent Dominic Lowe and driven straight to a hotel in a dark blue Taurus. Beth dropped her bags and coat into her room and walked next door to Styles’ room to speak to Lowe. They were speaking in hushed tones when she arrived, but the door was open and she walked straight on in. “I think it will save time if you give us both the information on the Scarlett Chester case at the same time.”
“Oh, we were just discussing sports.” Lowe was dressed in a dark suit and tie, the usual agent attire. “Now you’re settled here, I’ll take you to the office. It’s just across the road. I can walk you through the case, but in truth it’s been put on the back burner by this department, mainly because streetwalkers die here just about daily.”
Disgusted, Beth shook her head slowly. “So, I guess if a dog got hit by a car, you’d be out in force?” She glared at him. “Where’s your duty of care? Did you miss the bit about everyone being equal under the law?”
“Look.” The tips of Lowe’s ears turned pink. “It’s not like that at all. All murders are usually covered by the local PD, but as this woman is a missing person connected to the Pied Piper case, it falls into FBI hands. No one on our team is covering the Pied Piper case, and as the most recent murder attributed to him happened in your area, naturally we called you in.”
“Okay, we’ve been traveling all day, so let’s get on with it.” Styles removed his thick jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. “It sure is warmer here than in Rattlesnake Creek.” He exchanged a meaningful glare with Beth and, beckoning Bear to his side, followed Lowe out the door.
Lowe looked at Bear with interest. “You brought a K-9.” He chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll need him on this case.”
“You never know.” Styles waited for the walk sign to flash and headed across the road. “Anyway where I go, he goes.”
Inside the FBI office they went to Lowe’s cubicle and he handed them a hardcopy of the file. “This is what we’ve got on the case so far. It’s mainly information from the local PD. I became involved when she was taken to the morgue and formally identified.”
Beth leaned over the table, staring at the file as Styles turned the pages. “Identified how? This girl has been missing for three years. She is barely a teenager.”
“We used Snapshot DNA profiling.” Lowe leaned over to flick through the file to a photograph. “Are you familiar with the process?”
Beth nodded. “Yeah, it’s relatively new. They take a DNA sample and the machine produces a likeness from their DNA profile. It’s very accurate.” She lifted her gaze to him. “Problem is, it doesn’t give a name.”
“Yeah, well we ran the image through the missing person’s database using facial recognition software and got a hit for Scarlett Chester. We hadn’t realized she was so young.” Lowe turned to the autopsy images. “As you can see, she’d been in the water for a time. At first glance, you wouldn’t consider her to be a young girl. She was fully clothed and dressed like a streetwalker. How she got into the river is a mystery. The case is open, but she was high on heroin, so she probably fell into the river.”
“Is this all the interviews that you have from people who knew her?” Styles waved two pieces of paper. “I find it difficult to believe the names on here are real. Where can we find these people?”
“They come out at night.” Lowe gave Styles a long considering stare. “Maybe you can cruise up and down the street and pick one of them up. They’ll spill their guts for twenty bucks.”
