CHAPTER EIGHT
It was late evening when Faith and Jessica reached Brian Meadows’ home.
He lived in the same subdivision as Iris but five blocks away.
Faith wondered how he would know that Luna barked excessively if he lived so far away, but then again, he could have been delusional.
After all, murdering someone over their dog barking wasn’t normal behavior.
Turk, as always, led the way to the front door.
As they crossed the street, Faith saw a pair of eyes peek through an upstairs window to look at them before quickly disappearing.
She frowned and unclipped her weapon. It was a pair of binoculars, not a rifle scope, but she didn’t feel like taking any chances.
For that reason, she stood to the side of the door and reached over to rap it firmly rather than stand directly in front of it.
Jessica stood at the bottom of the porch where she could jump for cover behind the garage at a moment’s notice.
Turk stood like a coiled spring on the top step, ready to go on the attack the instant Meadows showed any sign of being a threat.
There was no answer. Faith turned to Jessica and said, “Go behind the house in case he tries to run.”
Jessica nodded and moved that direction. Faith knocked on the door again and called, “Brian Meadows! This is the FBI! I need you to come talk to me!”
No answer. Faith waited until Jessica informed her over the radio that the back of the house was secure, then knocked again.
“Brian, I know you’re in there. I saw you through the window checking us out with your binoculars!
We need to talk to you about a very serious situation.
If you don’t respond, I’ll be forced to escalate this contact. ”
That was a bit of a bluff. Without a warrant, they couldn’t force entry into his house, and they had very little in the way of actual evidence that might earn them one.
They could probably dig up enough probable cause to get him down to the police station for an interview, but it would be a lot easier and a lot faster if he just came to the door now.
Fortunately, Faith’s bluff worked. She heard an irritable, “Hold on!” and some equally irritable muttering. She whispered into her radio, “He’s coming to the front door. Stay in position unless I tell you otherwise.”
“Roger,” Jessica replied.
Turk tensed as footsteps approached. Faith widened her stance and put her hand around the butt of her service weapon.
The door opened a few inches, and a sour face peered through the gap at Faith. “What’s this about?”
“Can you open the door please?” Faith asked.
“No.”
She took a deep breath. “Mr. Meadows, I’m Special Agent Faith Bold of the FBI. I’m investigating the murders of Iris Caldwell and Mark Patterson.”
Meadows sighed. “God damn it. I knew you bastards were gonna come talk to me.”
“And why is that, sir?”
“Because you’re assholes, that’s why. Damned dog owners leaving their pets off leashes and making a racket all night, and I can’t get Quantico PD out here to take care of it. Some self-centered bitches die, and who should show up at my doorstep but the goddamned FBI.”
“Murder’s pretty serious, Mr. Meadows,” Faith said coldly. “And you had bad blood with our victims. So yeah, we’re here.”
“What am I supposed to do?” he whined. “Damned dog owners thinking they can do whatever they want.”
He closed the door, but before Faith could knock on it again, he pulled a chain and opened it all the way. “This used to be a nice neighborhood. I’ve lived here for forty-three years, and it’s only the past five that everyone started to be an asshole.”
“Enough of an asshole to kill them?”
Meadows jutted his chin toward Faith. He was an elderly man, in his late seventies, Faith guessed, but his back was straight, and his gnarled hands hung at the ends of burly arms. He was about six-four, an inch taller than Faith’s estimate, and looked to weigh about twenty pounds less, but he was definitely in good health.
She glanced at his feet and confirmed the size thirteen shoe.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Meadows insisted. “They deserved it, but I didn’t kill them.”
Faith’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mind if we continue this conversation inside? I don’t think you want us talking about this out loud where your neighbors might hear that you think one of them deserved to die because her dog barked.”
“I don’t want you talking about it at all,” Meadows complained, not registering Faith’s reaction to his claim that Iris and Mark deserved death. “This is bullshit. Pet owners need to be responsible. You can’t have wild animals walking around off…”
He blinked at Turk as though seeing him for the first time. He flinched as though struck by lightning and retreated behind his door. He opened it to the length of the chain once more and looked through it at Faith. “Put your goddamned dog on a leash! I’ll call the police!”
“Go ahead,” Faith said. “In the meantime, may I ask if you’re always this aggressive and confrontational?”
"I'm not…" Meadows took a deep breath. "What am I supposed to do?" he whined. "People keep letting their dogs walk around, as they can just do whatever they want. There are rules people are supposed to follow. If people stop following rules, then society falls apart.”
“So, they should die if they don’t follow those rules?”
“No! I didn’t…” His left eye twitched as he realized he did, in fact, say that. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Let’s back up a bit,” Faith said. “Describe your interactions with Iris Caldwell and Mark Patterson.”
Meadows chuckled. “Iris’s dog was barking all night. You could hear it from across the neighborhood.”
Faith wasn’t sure about that, but she wasn’t here to challenge Meadows’s hearing. “And what happened when you reported this to the police?”
“What do you think happened? Nothing happened! That’s the damned problem. Nothing ever happened. I’d tell the police about a problem, and they’d just ignore it like it didn’t matter.”
“So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.”
Meadows stared at Faith with a hateful expression. “How about you get off my property?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Faith replied calmly.
“You didn’t ask a question. You just told me that I took matters into my own hands. I already told you I didn’t kill them. You have no reason to be here.”
“Did you take matters into your own hands?”
Meadows released another angry laugh. “Why am I the one being questioned here? I follow the rules. I pay my taxes. I just want to live in my own goddamned house without dogs barking all night and running wild off leashes.”
“Brian Meadows, did you take it upon yourself to address Iris Caldwell’s—”
“I called her a bitch,” he replied. “She denied that her dog was barking all night so that everyone here could hear it, and I walked to her house, pointed at her and called her a bitch.”
He thrust his chin at Faith as though daring her to say anything about that. “And Mark Patterson’s dog was walking without a leash just like he was a damned person. I told him to get that animal on a leash, or I would have it taken away and put to sleep.”
“And you did, in fact, call the police.”
“I did. And they made him put a leash on his dog. And the asshole took it off a block later.”
“So, you followed him?”
Meadows’s eyes flicked left and right as though he was just realizing it was a mistake to admit that.
He thrust his chin out again and decided to return to his bullheaded approach.
“I did. You know how many people get mauled to death by wild dogs because their owners can’t figure out that you’re supposed to put a damned leash on your animal when they’re not secured within their residence? I was protecting people.”
“Hmm. Would you say the world is better off without a dangerous dog owner like Mark Patterson leaving his dogs off of the leash like that?”
Meadows laughed again, nervously rather than angrily. Faith was getting to him. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, shaking his finger through the crack in the door. “And I’m not going to allow it. I reported Iris Caldwell and Mark Patterson for not taking care of their dogs. That’s all.”
Faith nodded. “Do you report a lot of people, Mr. Meadows?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, the binoculars in the window were kind of interesting,” Faith said. “It’s kind of a stereotype that the nosy neighbor looking for trouble looks through his window with a pair of binoculars trying to catch his neighbors committing some sort of infraction. Is that you?”
Meadows’s lower lip trembled briefly. He recovered and lifted his chin. “I’m a concerned citizen,” he said haughtily. “It’s my right to ensure that the neighborhood I live in is free of vandals and criminals.”
“And if the police don’t do their job, someone has to, right?”
“No,” he said, chuckling nervously again. “No, see, you’re doing it again. I did not kill them. I didn’t kill them.”
“Can you provide an alibi for your whereabouts this morning?” Faith asked. “Say, around six a.m.?”
Meadows blinked. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I’ll help you,” Faith replied. “Two innocent people are dead. I think you might have killed them. You have a recent history of confrontation with both of them, and you’ve been very aggressive with me during this contact.
I’d like you to assuage my concerns by providing me an alibi that can prove you didn’t kill these victims. Otherwise, I’m going to take this to the next step. ”
“What’s the next step?”
“Upgrading you from person of interest to suspect.”
“I thought you said I already was a suspect.”
Faith felt a flash of irritation. She hoped he was rattled enough that he would crack under pressure, but instead his shell was tightening. “Right now we’re just talking, Mr. Meadows. Pretty soon, we’re going to be doing more than that.”
Meadows eyes flicked to Turk, who watched him with a hard-eyed expression but wasn’t growling the way he would if he recognized Meadows’s scent from a crime scene.
Considering the killer might have masked his scent that wasn’t proof he wasn’t there, but it left Faith with even less evidence to press the issue.
Meadows swallowed and looked at Faith. “It’s a free country. I don’t have to provide account of my movements to you.”
“A free country,” Faith repeated. “As long as your dog doesn’t bark, right?”
Meadows laughed and shifted his feet. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Do you own a gun, Mr. Meadows?”
She expected him to flinch or act nervous again, but instead, he glared at her and shouted, “No! It’s my God-given right to own a firearm, but the Second Amendment is one that I have not exercised.”
“Would you mind if we take a look around?” Faith asked. “Just to satisfy our curiosity.”
“Satisfy this!” Meadows snapped, shoving a finger through the door.
Turk bared his teeth and growled, and Meadows quickly withdrew his finger and slammed the door shut. Through the closed door, he called, “I didn’t kill those two, and I won’t allow you to search my property without a warrant signed by a judge!”
Faith’s lips pressed together hard enough to hurt, but there wasn’t anything she could do.
There were occasions where she stepped outside of the boundaries of legal investigative practice when doing so helped her case, but this wasn’t one of those cases.
She nodded and called through the door, “We’ll be back with that warrant, Mr. Meadows. ”
“Go to Hell!”
She walked off the porch, calling Jessica through her radio. “Come on back to the car. It’s a no-go for now.”
Jessica joined her at the vehicle. Faith drove off, but instead of leaving, she just circled the block and parked kady-corner to the house, keeping it in view but hopefully without Meadows realizing it.
“Stakeout?” Jessica guessed.
“Yep. Call the district court and ask for a warrant. I’ll bet you anything this bastard’s hiding something. He was acting real squirrelly when I was talking to him.”
“And if he has something to hide, he is actively hiding it as we speak,” Jessica replied.
“He won’t be able to hide that gun,” Faith said. “Even if he buries it under the floorboards, Turk’s nose will pick it up. We’re going to stay right here, and if he leaves, we’ll follow him. He claims he didn’t kill Mark Patterson and Iris Caldwell? We’re going to see if he’s telling the truth.”
As she watched, the upper window opened, and the binoculars peeked out again. They scanned the street on which Meadows lived but didn’t check the street where the agents were now parked. Faith smirked as she watched Meadows check to make sure the coast was clear.
Come on out, she coaxed silently. Don’t be afraid. Show us who you really are.
It had been a long time since Faith’s first suspect turned out to be the killer, but if anyone could be that killer, it was Brian Meadows. Maybe there was a chance to find justice for the victims now.
Or maybe she was letting her emotions cloud her judgment. Meadows was an angry, bitter, selfish man. He could be the killer.
Or the killer could be lurking harmlessly, unnoticed by the innocents he stalked, waiting for his next opportunity to take his prey.