CHAPTER SIX
Faith’s fork paused halfway to her mouth as she watched the news story in shock. “Oh my God.”
Turk barked inquisitively, then looked up at the TV. The headline read SECOND BODY FOUND IN STAFFORD COUNTY DOG PARK IN AS MANY DAYS.
Turk barked again, this time in alarm. Obviously, he couldn’t read the headline, but he knew a police cordon and a body covered in a sheet when he saw one.
“Residents of Stafford County are in shock once more as the body of a second dog owner was discovered at the Stafford Courthouse dog park at twelve-forty-five this afternoon.”
Faith checked her watch. That was just about an hour ago.
“This news comes on the heels of the death of Quantico resident Iris Caldwell whose body was found hidden in a stand of trees at the Rooster Memorial Dog Park in Quantico. As with Iris’s death, this man—who police have not yet identified—was found in the presence of his injured dog, a loyal golden retriever named Beau who sadly will no longer have a best friend to go home to. ”
“Jesus Christ.”
Faith flinched and spun around, nearly stabbing David with her fork. He faded backwards, eyes wide.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. I was… Yeah, Jesus Christ is right.”
David smiled ruefully. “I was actually going to apologize to you. Both for being late and for being an ass yesterday.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “You weren’t an ass. Just a little distracted. Actually…”
She hesitated. She was going to ask what was going on with him and if there was anything she could do to help, but with the arrival of a second dog-park victim in as many days, there was something more important for her to deal with right now.
“Yeah, I was also going to shamelessly pick your brain,” David continued. “But I think that can wait.”
She smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Go figure out what’s up. I assume you’re going to be assigned to this case since it involves dogs.”
“Probably,” she said, getting to her feet, “but I’m jumping the gun and assigning myself. You too, Turk.” She got on her tiptoes and kissed David briefly but hard. “I love you. I’m not mad at you. We’ll make it up to each other later.”
He smiled, and a part of her, incredibly, wished she could just let this go and make it up to him now. But with two innocent people killed in her own backyard, she definitely couldn’t justify cuddling with David right now.
“I get it,” David said, as though reading her mind. “Go save the world.”
She kissed him again, then led Turk out of the food court. She dialed her friend and occasional partner, Special Agent Jessica Torres. Jessica replied on the first ring. “Hey, buddy. I already got Hozier’s permission.”
Faith blinked. “What?”
“Yeah, I saw the news, and I knew you’d be all over it since it involves dogs.
I told Hozier that Smythe asked for our help again.
He’ll be pissed when he figures out Smythe didn’t actually call us, but I have a feeling Smythe will just chuckle and tell Hozier to let us work.
Besides, this case has Faith Bold written all over it.
If anything, we’re only getting a head start. ”
Faith grinned. “Jessica, have I ever told you that you’re amazing?”
“You have, but not often enough. Your place, my place, or meet you there?”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said. “Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to catch this asshole.”
Faith’s grin faded, replaced by a look of determination. “Oh, we will. You can count on that.”
***
The Stafford Courthouse Dog Park was a much smaller park than the Rooster Memorial Park near Faith’s house.
It consisted of three acres of fenced-in grass with a small sand pit and a storage shed that contained plastic cones, frisbees, and hoops for owners who wanted their dogs to perform tricks, and about a half-dozen trash cans with small plastic baggie dispensers scattered around the fences.
That shed was the only place in the entire park that provided any sort of cover.
The park was closed from ten p.m. to six a.m., and the Stafford County Sheriff’s Office was only three miles away.
Parks in the county were pretty well-patrolled to make sure that drug addicts didn’t loiter after hours, so it wasn’t likely the killer had committed his crime overnight, especially given how unlikely it was that the victim happened to take his dog to the park after hours.
So, their killer had once again killed someone in broad daylight very close to where other people were playing with their dogs.
He had beaten another large dog, once more not enough to kill the pup but enough to stop the attack.
He had gotten away somehow without provoking suspicion in any other people or pets who could have been nearby.
Who the hell was he?
“Mark Patterson,” Jessica said. “He worked for the county parks department. According to the officer I talked to, he was usually the guy who opened the gate to the dog park in the morning.”
That didn’t answer Faith’s question, but it answered a couple of others.
They knew who their victim was now, and they knew that he had died at or near opening, possibly a little bit before.
That was probably why the killer hadn’t been seen.
It was still amazing that dozens of dogs and owners had drifted through the park without seeing him, but she supposed most dog owners had their own toys and the dogs were contending with a lot of conflicting smells.
Still, it seemed almost… Irreverent. Like the killer was mocking them by killing his victims so publicly.
In one of Faith’s earlier cases with Turk as part of the Philadelphia Field Office, she had investigated a series of murders in a subway station.
The murderer killed his victims with lethal injection and left their bodies in public, waiting to see how long it would be before they were reported dead.
The Vampire of Twin Cities Terminal, as the media christened him, did this to send a message about how self-centered society was.
Maybe their killer was sending a similar message.
Jessica looked over the stained patch of grass where Patterson’s body had been found.
The entire park had been cordoned off, and a pair of sheriff’s officers lingered a respectful distance away to make sure no one disobeyed that cordon.
“So, the woman who was killed yesterday was the same thing, huh? Single gunshot to the head, left where she fell, dog beaten but not badly?”
“Yes,” Faith said. “Same thing.”
Turk sniffed around the patch of grass, pausing every few seconds to whine softly. He hadn’t had a chance to comfort Beau the way he comforted Luna, but Faith knew he was empathizing with the poor retriever.
Her phone rang. Sergeant Meyers. “This is the responding officer from the first scene,” she told Jessica.
She answered, and Meyers said, “Hey, Special Agent. I’m so sorry to bother you. Um… It looks like I’m going to keep this case after all. I guess I couldn’t let it go.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Faith replied.
“Well… We got the coroner’s report back, and I just talked with Stafford County. They said the second victim… I don’t know if you knew there was a second victim.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Got it. Well, they were both killed the same way. .22 caliber ceramic bullet that shattered upon impact and sent fragments through the braincase that shredded everything to pieces. Instant death. Well, Patterson—that’s the second victim—was shot in the back of the head, but my guess is that’s what the killer wanted to do to Iris too, and she just turned around before he fired. ”
“That’s probably a good assumption,” she replied.
“Anyway… I guess I’m sticking on the ceramic bullet thing. It seems… I don’t know. Almost professional. I mean, I shoot guns all the time, even in my personal life, but I’ve never been to a gun shop that sells ceramic bullets.”
“They don’t,” Faith said. “Ceramic bullets are illegal for civilians to own. They’re used to defeat metal detectors.
They’re actually not very good as combat rounds because they fragment so easily.
You have to use a lower-powered cartridge, and they have exactly zero armor-piercing capability, not to mention lower range and less stopping power. ”
“All of which makes them perfect as close-range, point-blank assassination weapons,” Meyers said.
“Exactly.”
“I guess my question is… You don’t think this is a professional hitman, do you? I mean, it sounds odd, but you have experience with high-profile cases like this, so I thought maybe you could tell me if you’ve ever run into a professional hitman going berserk on normal people like this.”
“I haven’t,” Faith said, “I doubt our killer is a hitman, but ceramic bullets are easy enough to find on the black market. I think the place to start is looking at the victims, determining if there’s a connection between them and who might want to kill them.
Then we can explore the hitman angle or the personal angle. ”
“Yeah.” Meyers laughed bitterly. “So now it could be personal.”
“I’m not ready to say that exactly yet,” Faith replied. “But we have two people walking their dogs at dog parks shot at point blank with the same gun in two days. That’s not a coincidence. Someone had a reason to want both of them dead.”
“Yeah, for sure.” He sighed. “Well, I’ll get back to it. Thanks, agent.”
Faith realized that Meyers didn’t understand that she was on the case now. “Oh, sergeant? Before you hang up, I should tell you that my partner and I are assigned to this case now.”
“Oh, really?” Meyers said, hope evident in his voice. “Oh, thank God. Does that mean… I mean, I hate to ask, but…”
“I’ll still want you available to help,” Faith replied, “but you no longer have to take lead on the investigation.”
Meyers sighed with relief. “Oh, thank God. I just… I don’t think I can handle it. I had a nightmare about my mom getting shot last night, and… I think I’m just too affected by this. Hell, if I know why, but it’s hitting me different.”
“No need to apologize,” Faith said. “It’s better to recognize when you’re emotionally compromised and take yourself off the case than to try to fight through those feelings.”
“Well, in any case, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Hey, well I have you on the phone, I’ll need access to your police station. My partner and I will set up there as a base of operations.”
“Sure. Of course. I’ll let the chief know. He won’t mind.”
“Thank you, Meyers.”
He hung up, and Faith looked back at the crime scene. Turk stood next to the spot where Patterson had fallen, staring at the ground.
“Ceramic bullets, huh?” Jessica said. “You forgot to mention another advantage to ceramic bullets.”
“What’s that?”
“You can’t trace them to a specific gun.
They fragment so completely that it’s impossible to determine signature marks or striations that would identify a particular weapon.
The killer could hand you the gun, and if he’s cleaned it recently, like a responsible gun owner, then there would be no evidence that it was ever used in the commission of a crime. ”
Faith nodded. That was more evidence that their killer had planned these murders.
But why? And why these two?
As always, that was the most important question and one to which they had no answer yet.