CHAPTER TWO
Yelps from concerned dogs punctuated the soft drone of concerned human voices gathered on the path in front of the stand of trees.
A Quantico Police officer was carefully driving a wooden stake into the ground while another wrapped the end of a roll of yellow tape around another stake and pulled it across the narrow dirt path that led into the copse.
Faith looked through the trees as David talked with the paramedics currently attending to Olivia, the woman who had passed out and first pulled Turk’s attention away from his bug-chasing. She was pale and shaking, but Faith doubted blood sugar had anything to do with it anymore.
“Poor girl,” the nearest officer said.
Faith followed his gaze and saw the Staffordshire Terrier, Luna, according to the tag on her collar, lying a few yards from the body of her owner, Iris Caldwell.
Her head was in between her paws, and her eyes wore a shell-shocked expression that was remarkably and painfully human.
Turk lay next to her, choosing to comfort the bereaved pup rather than investigate the scene.
Faith was fine with that, at least for the moment.
A closer look at Luna revealed that she had been beaten with a blunt object, probably a club of some sort and almost certainly as she tried to protect Iris.
David said her injuries weren’t serious, but while she would recover from her physical injuries, she had a long road to walk to recover from the emotional scars.
Turk caught Faith’s gaze and whined mournfully. He knew all about those kinds of scars. His first FBI handler, Special Agent Jack Preston, was murdered by a serial killer. That killer nearly killed Turk during that fight, and later that day captured and tortured Faith nearly to death.
Faith shivered at the memory and looked back at the crime scene. Crime scene investigators were gingerly examining Iris’s body, taking pictures of the surrounding area as well as Iris’s injuries.
Or rather injury.
“Cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the head,” the officer who had spoken earlier replied. “Small-caliber bullet, probably a twenty-two, but we’ll have the lab check it out and confirm that.”
Faith turned to the officer. He wore a sergeant’s chevrons and a nametag that read Meyers. He stared at the body with an expression of deep grief.
He caught Faith’s look and explained, “She looks a lot like my mother when she died. A little older and skinnier than she was, but… well, you get the point.”
Faith absolutely did. “It’s harder when the victim is someone vulnerable.”
Meyers scoffed. “Yeah. Old people and kids. Always the worst. Damn.” He wiped a hand across his brow, took a deep breath, and settled into a professional expression. “You’re an FBI agent, right? You hunt killers?”
“Yes,” Faith confirmed. “Special Agent Faith Bold. I specialize in highly organized ritualistic spree killers, but I’ve come across a lot of different sorts of murderer.”
Meyers nodded. “Any thoughts on this?”
Faith looked back at the body, which had been carefully lowered back to the position in which she had found it.
Her. Not it. Her. That was a human being. One of the most important lessons Jack had taught her was to never forget that victims were people.
“Is anything missing from her purse?”
“Nope. Wallet, credit cards, cash, and even a very pricey sapphire pendant are all still there. We dusted for prints, but my first impression is that they all belong to her unless our killer has very slender fingers.”
“So robbery’s not a motive,” Faith replied.
“What do you think about the weapon?”
“Weapons,” Faith replied. “The killer had a club of some kind as well as a handgun. That means the killer was preparing to fight the dog.”
“Well, it is a dog park,” Meyers pointed out.
“That’s a fair observation,” Faith agreed.
“There might be more behind that, but I’m not sure.
As for the choice of weapon, I’m sure you know that a small-caliber bullet is pretty damned insidious.
It has enough energy to punch into a skull but not enough to punch out, so the bullet just bounces around inside the cranium shredding brain matter.
It’s favored by assassins because it’s easily concealable, easily silenced, and extremely effective.
People can survive a large caliber bullet blowing a hole in their head as long as it avoids critical nerve clusters.
Most people have trouble living through their brain getting blended into a smoothie. ”
Meyers grimaced, and Faith said, “Sorry. That was an unnecessarily graphic description.”
“No, it’s all right,” he replied. “It was my mom’s birthday tomorrow, so I think this is just hitting me a little harder. So why did the killer choose the gun? She was sixty-two years old. Unless we think this killer was also an old lady.”
Faith looked at another CSI who was taking pictures of boot prints in the dirt fleeing deeper into the trees. The prints ended when the soft earth near the trees turned into the hard-packed dirt of the path, but they knew in what direction the killer fled at least.
They also knew that it wasn’t an old woman they were looking for.
“Those are size thirteen men’s boots,” Faith said. “Give or take a size. We’re definitely looking for a man, and judging by the stride length and the depth of each print, one who runs about two-thirty and is in good health.”
“So why the gun? He had the club. Why not just a knock over the head? Was this personal?”
Faith shook her head. “No, I think the opposite. If it was personal, he would have used the club.”
“Maybe she was his ex-lover, and he didn’t want to damage her face.”
CSI lifted Iris, and Faith saw blood matting the back of her head.
A small flap of skin hung loose. Another CSI took a picture of the tree, and Faith saw a small tuft of hair and blood stuck to a knot in the trunk.
“No, it’s not that.” She pointed at the tree.
“See how she hit her head when she fell? The killer just left her there. If this was a crime of passion, he would have probably cleaned her up a little and arranged her body so she wasn’t just lying where she fell. ”
“Maybe the dog scared him off.”
Faith looked back at Luna, who looked despondent as Turk gently cleaned her. “I don’t think so. I’m sure she did her best, but that’s not the killer’s blood on her muzzle.”
“We don’t know that yet,” Meyers said. “CSI still has to test it.”
Faith looked at the boot prints and the path beyond. “No blood,” she said. “If the killer was bleeding, there’d be something.”
Meyers sighed heavily. “Yeah. God damn it.” He looked at Luna. “Why not shoot the dog too, though?”
Now that was interesting. Not only had the killer not shot the dog, but he’d pulled his blows with the club. A man his size with a weapon like that could easily have broken Luna’s bones or even killed her. Instead, he’d only beaten her just enough to discourage her from attacking him.
“He didn’t want to hurt her,” she replied. “He was here for Iris, not Luna.”
“So, if it’s not personal, then what? Are we going to find out that Iris is secretly a mobster or something, and New York greenlit a hit on her?”
“I don’t know,” Faith said. “I doubt it, obviously, but organized crime isn’t outside of the realm of possibility.
Honestly without a full investigation into her life, it’s going to be difficult to determine a motive.
I am interested that he chose not to kill Luna.
I wonder if he has a reason for wanting to let her live but kill her owner. ”
Meyers sighed again. “Well, he didn’t take Luna with him, and he didn’t mind hurting her, so I can’t believe he’s some messed-up animal rights activist.”
“Fair enough,” Lara said. “But I feel the motive had something to do with dogs.”
“We’ll look into it,” Meyers said.
Faith reminded herself that this wasn’t her case and stopped trying to tell Meyers how to do his job. “Any living family?”
“Yeah, four children, two daughters and two sons. Ah, shit!”
“What?” Faith asked. “What is it?”
“I just realized we’re going to have to call one of them to come get the dog.
” He shook his head. “I was hoping we could get the body out of here and at least get the blood cleaned up before we have to tell them what happened to their mom.” His eyes widened.
“Wait, you don’t think one of the kids killed her, do you? ”
“Anything’s possible, but I doubt it. A son or daughter probably wouldn’t have just left their mother’s body where it fell. You’ll have to look into them and do your due diligence, but I’ll be surprised if the killer is someone close to her.”
“God, I hope not,” Meyers replied. He chuckled bitterly. “Damn. My head’s all over the place. I might need to have someone else take over on this one.”
“There’s no shame in that,” Faith agreed. “It’s hard to think clearly when you’re emotionally impacted by a case.” Ask me how I know, she thought.
Meyers sighed a third time. “Well… I guess I should bite the bullet. I don’t want to take Luna to animal control. She should be with someone who cares about her.”
Faith looked over at the pooch. Her eyes were open again. She looked at Iris with a grief so palpable that a lump formed in Faith’s throat.
“We’ll watch her,” she told Meyers. “Turk and I will keep her company while you get Iris out of here and get the scene cleaned up a little. You can call Iris’s children after that.”
“Can you?” Meyers asked. “That would mean a lot.”
“Sure,” Faith agreed. “Go ahead. We’ll take her to the path and wait on one of the benches up ahead.”
Meyers’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Oh, thank you. That’s a big load off my chest.” He looked back at Iris. “I’ll call the coroner now. CSI looks like they’re wrapping things up. Thank you again, Special Agent.”
“Of course,” Faith said.
She nearly reached into her pocket for a business card but stopped herself. This wasn’t her case. She had just been in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time depending on how one looked at it.
Besides, she was beginning to feel a bit of emotional attachment to the case herself.
It was fine to empathize with victims, but this wasn’t just professional empathy.
She’d been reminded a few times already of Jethro Trammell, and she’d made a promise to herself to never allow him to have control over her again.
So, she only shook Meyers’s hand before leading Turk and Luna away from the scene. When they reached the path, Luna stopped. She looked back through the police cordon, lifted her head to the sky, and wailed plaintively.
Faith and Turk shared a bleak look and allowed Luna her moment of grief. This killer would be caught and brought to justice eventually, but no amount of retribution would fill the hole in Luna’s heart.