Page 6 of Dark Angel
FIVE
The scenery was spectacular as they flew over the mountains. In her ear, Styles gave Beth a running commentary of the local places of interest. They flew over an alpine region with sparkling waterfalls, lakes, and a forest that went on forever. She turned to Styles. “I’ve heard of Black Rock Falls. I figure anyone in law enforcement would be interested in their homicide cases.” She had visited the area during her last vacation, but no one needed to know, least of all Dax Styles.
“Their local FBI field office is Snakeskin Gully. Agents Carter and Wells are our backup if we ever need them. They are farther west, about thirty minutes from us by chopper. Black Rock Falls is where Dr. Wolfe, the ME, is located. Our local doctor, Nate Mace, handles the uncomplicated deaths in town. Anything remotely suspicious, we call in Shane Wolfe.”
The chopper rounded a high snow-covered peak, and as they passed over the forest, Beth noticed the raw patches on the landscape. Bare areas stood out littered with brightly colored industrial machinery against the open spaces. Scars from where they’d mined dotted the landscape. She adjusted the mic on her headset to speak. “Is that mining damage?”
“Yeah, well that’s private land. The miners take the soil from where the old gold miners used to dig and pass it through a machine to remove gold particles from the soil. When they’re through, they’re required to return the ground to its previous condition.” He sighed. “It’s never the same again, but if we’re lucky, some of the miners plant trees and shrubs before they move on. The grass grows back quickly enough. It’s not just gold. There are minerals too.”
The chopper swung in the wind as they rounded a rocky outcrop, and Beth caught her breath as they descended into a magnificent valley surrounded by majestic peaks, forests, and waterfalls. The colors of late fall made the scenery resemble an old master. It was spectacular, and after seeing the mining operations, she hadn’t expected to see acres of unspoiled land surrounded by creeks and mountain ranges. She could make out the sprawling town, sitting on one side of a wide fast-flowing river fed by three separate waterfalls. She turned to look at Styles. “Is that Rattlesnake Creek?”
“Yeah. Nice, huh?” He gave her a satisfied smirk. “I figure the creek was a might smaller during the gold rush back in 1865.”
As they descended, more details came into view. The main road was wide, lined by redbrick buildings with brightly colored façades. Vehicles lined the street, all parked nose in. It was a prosperous, alive town. Astonished, Beth stared at him. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s our little secret but don’t let its looks fool you.” Styles landed the chopper on the top of a redbrick building. “Women are in the minority around here and the men are as tough as nails. Weekdays, it’s not so bad, but when the miners come into town to blow off steam, it’s chaotic.”
Beth unclipped her seatbelt when Styles cut the engine and removed her headset. “That’s not our problem; that’s the local sheriff’s concern.”
“Oh, I lend a hand when necessary.” Styles flipped switches and then opened his door. “Most of our work is from out of town, although we have had a few murders. The people who come here are looking for a fast buck. You can look through the case files. The crime rate here is high for such a small town and the sheriff really needs a few good deputies but it’s difficult getting people to stay.”
Beth waited for him to pull her bags from the chopper and grasped the one on wheels and one other. “I’ll come back for the others.”
“I’ve got them.” Styles gathered them up and headed for the stairs. “Watch your step.”
She followed him down a flight of stairs that led to a long passageway. “What is this place?”
“This is the FBI field office building.” Styles walked up to a door, placed one of her bags on the floor and pulled out a set of keys, opened the door and waved her inside. “This is your apartment.” He followed her into the passageway. “We take up the top floor and I live down the other end of the building—the last door. There are two other apartments, but the end ones have all the views. The elevator goes to our office or down to street level. You’ll need to scan in your palm print to use the elevator and access our office.” He dumped her bags on a leather sofa in the family room.
Staring around the spacious apartment, Beth frowned. “So, you’re saying the FBI figures we don’t need personal security? Just the building? That makes no sense at all.”
“Any threat would need to come via the roof and in truth anyone wanting to get inside our apartments would only need to kick in the door.” He shrugged. “No one has tried to get in here yet.”
Beth moved along the passageway; three bedrooms, one converted into an office; a spacious and surprisingly modern kitchen with appliances. She turned and looked at him. “I’ll need transport and food.”
“Well unless you’re into tofu, I’ve stocked the refrigerator and freezer. Eggs, milk, bread, bacon, vegetables, cereal, butter, and anything else I figured you’d need. There’s a pharmacy and general store if you need anything personal. There’s a truck out front if you need it, FBI issue, so not the latest model, but most times we’ll be on cases together.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll show you around when we’ve eaten. You’ll need to change into something more practical. Jeans and boots would work.” He gave her a long look. “Freshen up and I’ll meet you at the elevator in, what, twenty minutes?” He handed her the keys to the apartment. “Will you be able to start work first thing in the morning?”
“Sure.” Nodding, Beth followed him back down the passageway and shut the door. She leaned against it, his words running around her head like an earwig.We’ll be on cases together.She ground her teeth at the idea.Not if I can help it.
She inspected the apartment. Surprisingly everything had been supplied: linen, towels, a new coffeemaker, and a good supply of quality coffee. After dumping her bags on the bed, she dragged out jeans, a sweater, and a long jacket she’d purchased the moment she’d known her fate. She’d need more clothes and fast. Winter would be here before too long and nothing she had would be warm enough. She glanced at her watch and took a hot shower. The trip had taken most of the day and her back ached from sitting in economy. She tied up her long hair and made the elevator with seconds to spare. After Styles took her through the process of scanning her palm print into the machine, they headed down to a red truck. “You have a red truck? That’s not very FBI, is it?”
“That’s the point.” Styles grinned at her. “Blending in with the community.” He pointed to a few stores. “Pharmacy, general store, deli, bank, all close by.” He slowed and parked in a space. “This here is Tommy Joe’s Bar and Grill. Good food and more of a meeting place for the townsfolk. You don’t get moved along here if you’ve finished your meal.”
Beth climbed from the truck. “Is this the only bar in town? It must be crowded at the weekends.”
“Nope, we have three saloons, two here in town, one on the highway. Two have gentlemen’s clubs in the back. We have three motels too and I suspect one of them runs an escort service. I’ve been there and watched for a time. I never witnessed any soliciting, but the same women seem to be having drinks with a variety of men before they leave with them.”
Beth blew out a long breath. “Again, that’s the sheriff’s problem. I’m here to work on crimes the local sheriff can’t solve.”
She walked into the bar and scanned the room: two pool tables, a jukebox out of the 1950s, and a bar with the usual assortment of bottles displayed along the wall. On one section was a printed menu and on a chalkboard a list of specials. She took her credit card from her purse and waited for someone to come to the counter. The swinging doors to the kitchen opened and a tall, handsome man in his thirties walked through. His smile at seeing her lit up the room. Beth hadn’t expected a welcome. Most people treated her with suspicion.
“Ah, you must be Styles’ new partner.” The man wiped his hand on the apron around his waist and held it out to her. “Tommy Joe Barker, but my friends call me TJ.”
Beth shook his hand. “Agent Katz. Is this your bar?”
“Yeah.” He flicked a glance at Styles and then back at Beth. “What can I get you?”
Beth actually liked the man. She had an instinct about most people and no alarm bells were ringing. “Steak, medium, with all the trimmings.”
