CHAPTER FOURTEEN
By nine in the morning, the Quantico Police Department had fielded one hundred eighty calls from citizens reporting suspicious behavior in parks.
Of those calls, about sixty were people complaining about dog owners not picking up after their dogs or allowing their “vicious breeds” to walk without a leash.
Three of those calls came from Brian Meadows, whose experience with the investigation the day before wasn’t enough to deter him from ranting about people allowing their “wild animals” to run free.
Of the remaining calls, about forty involved city employees picking up trash, trimming bushes, or enforcing park rules. Fifty or so were frivolous for a variety of other reasons: playing music too loud, “being rude”, and even a few calls for people dressed inappropriately.
That left about thirty calls that were worth investigating, and since even that small number was more than Quantico PD could handle, the sheriff's offices for Stafford County and Prince William County assisted. All thirty of those calls turned out to be innocuous.
Faith had hoped to find a needle in this haystack.
Instead, people kept piling on more hay.
As she and Turk left the scene of the most recent call, a homeless man rummaging through trash cands for food (Faith dropped him off at a nearby shelter) she decided to take a break for food.
They weren’t getting anywhere with this warning, and she needed a moment to think.
Sometimes letting her mind settle and think about the problem without any pressure would lead to a spark of insight that broke open the case.
She called Jessica on the way. The two of them had split their efforts to maximize (or so they thought) their chances of finding something useful. Jessica was responding to a report of suspicious behavior at Rooster Memorial, the site of Iris Caldwell’s murder.
“Hey, Jess,” Faith said. “I’m stopping for breakfast. My call turned out to be a homeless guy looking for food. I dropped him off at the shelter. You want anything from Ringo’s Bakery?”
“I’ll take a ham and Swiss bagel,” Jessica replied. “My call turned out to be nothing too. A guy passing out religious pamphlets. The caller was very irate that we refused to arrest him. I think that was the most creative use of ‘separation of church and state’ I’ve ever heard.”
Faith chuckled. “Yeah, there are an awful lot of Karens and Darrens on the phone today.”
As that thought settled, a frown came to her face.
“Do people not take things like this seriously? I mean, three people have been killed in as many days. At that pace, we should be expecting someone else to die today. You’d think people would know better than to take advantage of this situation to make minor complaints. ”
“Really? I’m not surprised at all.”
Faith chuckled again, but there was no mirth in it this time. “God this sucks. I really hate that we’re relying on a damn hotline to find this guy.”
“I’m trying to think of it as preventative.
We probably won’t find the guy this way, but maybe we’ll keep him from killing someone else.
He’s going to see police presence everywhere.
If he has a cell phone—and who doesn’t—he’ll know that people are looking for anyone suspicious.
People are going to be acting like they’re looking for someone suspicious, so he’s not likely to get someone alone who isn’t paying attention. ”
Faith smiled ruefully. “That’s a very mature way to look at the situation. I hate it.”
Jessica laughed, far more genuinely than Faith had a moment ago. “Yeah, me too. Well, we’re just getting started. Maybe someone will actually have something useful to report.”
“Fingers crossed.”
Faith pulled into the parking lot of Ringo’s Bakery, a small café most well known for its donuts but that also sold decent coffee and slightly more decent breakfast sandwiches.
Faith ordered Jessica’s bagel sandwich and got herself a turkey and cheddar on sourdough along with her…
She’d lost count of how many cups of coffee this was.
She paid for a pound of roast beef for Turk, who, as usual, consumed the entire thing in three bites, then whined for more.
“Uh uh,” Faith said. “You’ll get sleepy and slow. I need you alert. You can have more food with lunch.”
Turk growled and pouted for a moment, then saw a butterfly fluttering near Faith’s car and forgot about his complaint.
“Come on, boy,” Faith said, opening the front passenger door of her Crown Victoria and setting the food and coffee in the seat. “Leave the bugs alone. We’re going back to the station.”
Turk pouted again as he jumped into the backseat.
As Faith walked around the nose of the car to get into the driver’s seat, she saw a police cruiser pass her heading in the direction of Rooster Memorial.
Her heart leapt, and she called Meyers on the radio.
“Hey, I saw a cruiser heading to Rooster. We got something?”
“Yeah, a fight,” Meyers replied.
Faith’s shoulders slumped. “A fight?”
“Yeah. Couple of college kids. I guess the one guy caught the other guy making out with his girlfriend. They’re being children about it, so we have to go break them up.”
Faith sighed. “All right. Guess that’s why you didn’t call me.”
“Yeah. Don’t be too discouraged. This is how these warnings always go. Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame. I mean, the fight has nothing to do with it, but the rest of it, all the false alarms, that’s just the way it goes.”
“Fair enough,” Faith said, sliding into her car. “But I don’t have to be happy about it.”
She started the engine and pulled out. The day was warmer than usual, continuing the early spring Quantico was enjoying.
It was a beautiful day to go out to the park and enjoy some peace and exercise.
A beautiful day for their murderer to show his face so they could bring him to justice before he hurt anyone else.
“If only they would behave and do as they’re told,” Faith said as she pulled into the Quantico PD lot.
Turk barked inquisitively, and Faith said, “Not you, boy. Mommy’s just complaining out loud.”
Jessica’s car was in the lot too, so she had beaten them back to the station. Faith headed to the break room, calling with as much cheer as she could muster, “Provisions, fair wench.”
She entered the break room, but Jessica wasn’t there. Maybe she was in the restroom.
Faith set the food and coffee on the counter, then noticed Turk standing with his ears up and head erect, alert. Her heartbeat quickened slightly. “What is it, boy?”
Turk trotted out of the breakroom, heading for Meyers’s office.
Quantico was a small force, and Meyers’s office was little more than a closet with a small desk and a single chair.
Meyers and Jessica were in the office, leaning over Meyers’s desk and listening intently to a caller on the other end of the phone.
Faith and Turk entered quietly, barely fitting in the tiny space. Jessica grinned at Faith and gave her a thumbs up before looking back at the phone.
Over the speaker, Faith heard a female voice say, “I didn’t think about it at the time, but yeah, he was just sitting there with his hood pulled over his head watching everyone, hands folded in his lap. He didn’t say anything, and he wasn’t bothering anybody, but it was weird.”
Faith’s heart leaped. Had someone seen the killer?
“How many times have you seen him?” Meyers asked.
“Three or four times. He usually shows up, sits for about an hour, and leaves.”
“Can you describe him for us?” Jessica asked.
“Um… He was tall. Not like basketball star tall, but tall. And big too. Broad-shouldered, big hands. He wore work boots too, which was kind of funny since he was walking on a concrete path, not the dirt.”
“Where was this?” Faith asked.
“Veterans Memorial Park,” the caller replied. “They have a dog park there now, just a little one.”
Faith pumped her fist. “When was the most recent time you saw him?”
“Um… I think… last… Tuesday? No, Wednesday.”
Faith’s smile faded a little. “Wednesday two days ago?”
“No, last week.”
Faith sighed. “You didn’t see him more recently?”
“Well, I haven’t been since then.”
And just like that, Faith’s hope was renewed. “Perfect. Sergeant Meyers is going to take some information from you in case we need to follow up. Thank you very much, ma’am.”
While Meyers got the woman’s contact information, Faith stepped outside with Jessica.
"That's the third caller who's reported a suspicious man in a hoodie and work boots," Jessica said.
"Two at Rooster and one at Veterans. Nothing from Stafford Courthouse yet, but it's the same thing each time.
A Caucasian man in his forties, tall and burly, wearing a hoodie pulled low over his head, and work boots, shows up and loiters for an hour or so.
He sits on a bench with his hands folded and watches people quietly, then leaves. "
“And no one thought of reporting this before? When we were interrogating people at the scenes of the murders?”
“All three callers said the same thing. They didn’t think anything of it at the time. He was just a random guy. A little weird, but they didn’t leap right to ‘this guy’s a crazy killer’. That’s just not a thing normal people think about.”
Faith pressed her lips together. It should be a thing that normal people thought about. So many times throughout her career she'd heard that excuse. "I just didn't think about it. I mean, who does that?”
Lots of people. And lots of people died because people didn’t allow themselves to imagine the worst-case scenarios.
But there was nothing to be gained by ranting about that right now. Their warning was working. They were getting a description of this guy. People were on the lookout for him. Meyers could send a sketch to the news media, and people would be looking specifically for their killer.
She smiled ruefully. Only minutes ago, she thought the warning was useless. Oh she of little Faith.
“Guys!” Meyers said, poking his head out of his office. “We have another call! Someone found the guy at Rooster!”
The trio of FBI agents exploded into action. Faith, Jessica, and Turk ran for Faith’s car while Meyers grabbed another deputy and headed for a cruiser.
Faith spun her tires as she peeled out of the parking lot. They’d reach Rooster Memorial Park in five minutes. They only needed the killer to be there for that long without disappearing. Then they could wrap this up before anyone else got hurt.