CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Thanks, appreciate it. You too.”
Jessica hung up and breathed a sigh. “Okay. That’s everyone.
The Air Force, Navy, and Army Chaplain Corps are notifying all active duty chaplains who served in Tarinkot, the VA office is alerting all the retired ones, the MP units attached to Myer-Henderson Hall, Anacostia-Bolling, and Andrews are going to offer armed escorts to all chaplains on their respective bases, and”—she took a breath—“Metropolitan PD, Arlington PD, and Fairfax County Sheriff’s Office are going to post extra officers at the war memorials in their jurisdictions.
We have as much protection as we’re going to get. ”
Faith nodded. “Okay. That’s good for now.”
They were in a park in Arlington watching parents play with their children in a playground while dog owners tossed sticks and frisbees to their pets in a nearby dog park and older couples walked hand-in-hand enjoying the bright, sunny day.
They had the entire afternoon left to them and unless they came up with another lead, they were stuck waiting for Dr. Paulson to get back to them.
Or for another victim to provide them with more evidence.
“I don’t want to just sit around,” Jessica said. “Why don’t we follow up on the dog tags? I know they’re from all over the place, but there must have been a reason why the killer placed them with the victims.”
Faith nodded. “We have the list of names. We can look through them and determine if there’s a common thread.”
“How would the killer obtain these tags anyway?” Jessica asked as they headed for the car. “I assume you can’t just get dog tags anywhere.”
Faith sighed. “Unfortunately, you can.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Official dog tags have to be issued by the military branch directly to service members, but they’re just stamped sheet metal.
You can order official ones as long as you have the service member’s name, rank, and serial number.
They get shipped directly to you. Service members do this a lot to replace lost tags, and loved ones will order replicas to memorialize their lost loved ones.
Dog tags get lost all the time, or sometimes people choose to bury their loved ones with the originals. Squadmates will order more to—”
“Okay, I get it,” Jessica said. “Literally anyone can get real dog tags with no effort, so trying to find the guy ordering a bunch isn’t going to turn anything up.”
“If the killer’s ordering them, it might give us something, but like I said, they’re just stamped sheet metal. You can buy the tools to make your own for a couple hundred bucks including materials cost.”
Jessica’s shoulders slumped. “Well, phooey.”
“We can still look at the names,” Faith said.
“Someone would have to have access to records to get the correct serial numbers. It’s too many people for someone to just know all of that information off the top of their head.
” Her eyes widened. “Actually, that’s a good place to look.
Head back to the VA. Our killer might be pulling the names of deceased combatants from their records office. ”
Jessica’s shoulders perked up. She made a barely legal and probably not safe wide right turn, earning a honk from a minivan that hadn’t anticipated the movement. Turk barked questioningly, and Faith reached back to scratch him behind the ear. “Hold on, boy. We might have something.”
Turk barked again and started wagging his tail. It thumped against the back of Faith’s seat and the back of the rear seats. Faith laughed watching her big dog cope with the tight confines of the Prius. “Next time I’ll bring the Crown Vic, buddy.”
***
The older man at the VA Records office greeted the two of them with a tolerant half-smile. “If we’re going to be seeing so much of each other, we might as well be on a first-name basis. I’m Chief Master Sergeant Arnold Preston. Most people just call me Chief.”
“Staff Sergeant Faith Bold,” Faith replied with a grin. “Special Agent now, but I still have the globe and anchor tattoo.”
“Can’t take the Corps out of the Marine,” Chief agreed. “Pleasure to meet you, Faith.”
“Jessica. Just Special Agent, but I have a cousin in the Space Force.”
“We take Space heads and their families too,” Chief replied, shaking her hand. “So, what can I do for you now?”
“The killer hangs dog tags around the necks of their victims,” Faith said. “Dozens on each victim. The serial numbers are accurate, and the service members named span twenty years and multiple theaters. Whoever’s doing this would need access to records in order to order or replicate these tags.”
Chief’s smile faded. “Ah. Well, I have an alibi for both of the previous mornings. I start here at four a.m. Usually, I’m on my way home by now, but on Mondays, I’ve been covering for one of my subordinates while he undergoes treatment at the veteran’s clinic in Capitol Heights.”
“You weren’t a suspect, Chief, but I appreciate the information,” Faith replied. “My question to you is do you know of anyone in this office who’s been going through old records recently? Perhaps someone who’s expressed bitterness toward chaplains or religion in general.”
Chief’s shoulders slumped a little. Reluctantly, he admitted, “I guess Thomas is a little bit ambivalent toward religion. I’ve tried to get him to come to church with me, but he’s shut me down each time.”
Faith tried to keep her excitement from showing. This was obviously difficult for Chief. “Would Thomas have access to veterans’ records?”
Chief nodded. “Yeah, we all have access. One of the services we provide here is obtaining records of people’s service history.
This is usually for surviving loved ones who want to know more about their fallen family, but from time to time it’s useful when people are being falsely denied benefits and need proof that they’ve earned certain relief.
It’s unfortunate, but things fall through the cracks.
We’re usually the guys who have to come in and seal those cracks. ”
“Is Thomas here right now?” Faith asked.
“No, he’s the one receiving treatment in Capitol Heights. I can’t imagine he’s the one you’re looking for, though. He’s never given any indication that he’s violent.”
Faith had seen plenty of incredibly violent people successfully masquerade as harmless. Some of the most violent people she’d ever known had hidden it so well that Faith herself didn’t even realize who they really were until much later.
She didn’t say this to Chief, though. Clearly, he held some affection for Thomas. She didn’t want to beat him over the head with the possibility that he was a killer.
“Can you determine what records each subordinate of yours has accessed?” Jessica asked.
Chief’s shoulders slumped further. “Yes,” he admitted. “Since we’re accessing people’s proprietary information, we’re required—or rather, the VA is required—to record each time an individual’s personal information is accessed.”
Faith gave him a sympathetic smile. “Can we take a look at those records?”
Chief nodded, no longer able to meet their eyes. He opened the staff door to the records office, and the three agents followed him inside. Turk, sensing Chief’s anxiety, trotted up to him and nuzzled his thigh.
Chief reached down and petted him absently.
“There’s only four of us here. Me, Thomas, Julie, and Carrie Ann.
You’ll see our initials next to the records we’ve accessed.
Since Thomas isn’t here, you can use his workstation.
You’ll see it. It’s the empty one in the back room.
I’ll give you my login information so you can pull up the search history. ”
He led the three agents to the back. The small office contained three small desks, two of which were occupied by younger women in civilian clothing, probably volunteers or civilian contractors.
The women stopped talking and stared at the FBI agents with wide eyes.
Chief smiled and explained, “These agents need to check our records for something. I’m giving them access to Thomas’s computer for the day. ”
“Is that dog friendly?” one of the girls asked.
“Carrie, stop!” the other one said, flushing a little. “You can’t pet service dogs.”
Faith smiled. “He’s friendly, and you can pet him if you want. He likes attention.”
Turk wagged his tail eagerly and immediately plopped himself in between the two women, who both began gushing over him. Chief smiled at the trio, but the pained look hadn’t left his eyes. A part of Faith hoped that Thomas wasn’t their killer so she wouldn’t have to break Chief’s heart.
Most of Faith wanted this case to be over before anyone else died.
Chief typed his username and passcode into the computer and Faith took a seat. Jessica stood behind her with the list of dog tags open on her cell phone. Faith recognized the impatience and the desperation in her partner’s body language.
“Fingers crossed, “she said.
The search history for records was predictably enormous.
One hundred thirteen searches in the past week alone.
Actually, for a VA office the size of this one, that wasn’t too bad.
It just meant a lot of tedious time spent identifying which searches Thomas made and determining if they matched the dog tags.
As a matter of fact, that didn’t take long at all.
Within ten minutes, Jessica had confirmed matches to all forty names on the dog tags.
There was no need to dig deeper to look for a personal connection.
There was no doubt now that Thomas Garrett had obtained the records of every fallen servicemember printed on the dog tags.
“Playing devil’s advocate here,” Jessica said. “Could there be a benign reason he searched for all of these names?”
“Possibly,” Faith allowed, “but some of these people died twenty years ago. People search for older records from time to time, but it’s highly coincidental for all forty of the names on our dog tags to be part of one records officer’s search history within a week of the murders. Also…”
She clicked on one of the searches. It pulled up an expanded page listing the requestor’s information and providing a link to any records. Like most places, calls to the VA’s office were recorded.
“There’s no link to a phone call, and Thomas Garrett is the requestor.” She closed the page and opened another. “Same with this one. I’m not going to go through all forty right now, but I think you get the picture.”
“Yep. Okay. Let’s go talk to this guy.”
They closed the computer and returned to the front desk.
The women mourned Turk’s departure and grinned at Faith, probably to compliment her about her dog.
They stopped when they saw Faith’s expression.
Carrie glanced pensively at Thomas’s computer.
Faith felt a little sorry for them. It was difficult to believe that their coworker could be a murderer.
Innocent until proven guilty, Faith reminded herself.
Chief wore a forlorn expression when he saw them. “Found something, huh?”
“I’m afraid so,” Faith said. “He searched for all forty of the names printed on the dog tags found at the crime scene within the past week. None of the searches were prompted by an external request.”
Chief sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Gosh darn it. Pardon my language.”
“No need to apologize,” Jessica replied gently.
“Poor guy,” Chief lamented. “I know you might not think so, but I’ve gotten to know him.
He’s a sweet person. He’s just got some bitterness, but a lot of people struggle with that, especially in the military.
He’s been taking an art class ever since they reported his letters…
” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together and lowering his head.
“Letters?” Faith prodded.
Chief released another heavy sigh. “He was so angry about the war. He always asked why God would allow that kind of tragedy to happen. Why He would allow so much hate in this world. He used to write letters to chaplains asking them to explain that. A few months ago, one of those chaplains reported the letter to the VA. It was…”
“Threatening?”
“Strongly worded,” Chief said. “I wouldn’t say threatening, but it was vitriolic. He called him a liar and said that if God existed, He should punish all chaplains for being filthy liars who preyed on people’s suffering.”
“And you didn’t feel a need to tell us this?” Jessica asked.
Chief shrugged. “I didn’t want to believe it, I guess.”
Jessica frowned, but Faith stepped in before she could scold the poor old man later. “Thank you for helping us with this information, Chief. If we can, we’ll leave you out of the rest of the process.”
Chief nodded. “I just can’t believe it,” he said dejectedly. “He was a good kid.”
Faith didn’t offer an opinion. She and Jessica left the Records office, Turk in tow, and headed for the VA clinic in Capitol Heights, a suburb of D.C.
located in Maryland almost directly opposite the capital from Arlington.
According to Chief, Thomas’s treatments lasted until three in the afternoon, giving them plenty of time to catch him before he went home.
Faith controlled her excitement until they were in the car, but she really was hopeful about this lead.
They had the records searches and a history of hostile behavior toward chaplains.
Maybe God would hear Faith’s prayers and help them put a stop to this violence before it claimed any more victims.
Or maybe somewhere the real killer was silently mocking their efforts while preparing their next work of art.