CHAPTER TWENTY
Steve Kent lived in a ratty apartment complex in Green Valley, a low-income neighborhood in the southeastern part of Arlington just north of the city of Alexandria.
Arlington was a generally affluent community like most of the Virginian suburbs of D.C.
, but a few pockets of low-income and high-crime areas still existed.
Green Valley was one of those places. While violent crime was low compared to other neighborhoods in similar income brackets, property crime was a significant problem, and the graffiti that covered half of the buildings and the broken glass that littered the streets demonstrated the vandalism the neighborhood struggled with as well.
The streets were empty, and every window was closed and shuttered.
It was still an hour before sunset, but with police cruisers visible on every street corner, the residents would save their business for another day.
Like all people in such neighborhoods, everyone knew that when the five-oh arrived, it was time to hunker down and wait for the storm to pass.
Steve’s apartment complex consisted of four buildings with eight units each in two stories.
The black iron gate was covered in stickers and rusted badly.
When Meyers called the leasing office for entry, it opened with a rough squealing sound and a puff of gray smoke from the motor to the right.
As with the rest of the neighborhood, the residents here chose to stay in their homes with curtains drawn.
“He’s in unit 4G,” Meyers informed them. “That’s a second-floor unit in the building to the back left.”
He stopped at the very end of the short, square, dead-end parking lot and checked his handgun before getting out.
He looked at Faith and Jessica seriously.
"We're going in with weapons drawn. Trust me on this.
I have a friend in Arlington, PD, and things will go south without a moment's notice if you're not careful. "
Faith doubted like hell that was necessary, and she’d spent most of her FBI career in Philadelphia, a city that made the most dangerous parts of Arlington seem as safe as a kindergarten.
She didn’t consider this point worth arguing though, and in any case, if Kent was their murderer, then they knew he had at least one gun.
Turk trotted ahead of the group as they made their way to Steve’s unit.
Faith heard the faint sound of a television inside of one of the first-floor apartments.
It was a movie about a rookie narcotics officer going on a ride-along with a veteran officer who turned out to be a corrupt cop running an extortion ring within the Los Angeles Police Department.
It was one of David’s favorite movies, but Faith found it laughably inaccurate and only mildly entertaining.
David would probably find a movie about veterinary work just as laughable.
Normal people only wanted the exciting bits, not the tedious parts.
Hopefully, this would be one of the exciting bits and not a waste of time that would lead to more tedium.
They stood on either side of the door, Meyers in front and Turk just to his left. The sergeant knocked on the door and called, “Police! Steve Kent, are you home?”
There was no reply, which wasn’t surprising. Criminals weren’t in the habit of answering the door when law enforcement knocked.
Meyers knocked again. “Steve Kent, this is the police department. Please come to the door.”
No answer, but Faith heard stirring inside. She looked at Jessica, who tightened her grip on her handgun and stepped a few feet farther left, aiming through the curtained window to the living room of the apartment.
“Steve Kent!” Meyers called. “Last warning! We will force entry if you don’t come to the door!”
Faith heard more scuffling inside. Turk pricked up his ears, and Faith felt a jolt of disquiet. When she heard a rough scraping from inside, she cursed. “He’s going out a window.”
Meyers swore and pounded on the door. “Steve! Don’t do it, man!”
Turk barked suddenly and leaped over the railing down to the first floor, earning a cry of alarm from Faith. He landed easily and headed to the back of the building.
Meyers cursed and kicked the door down. He ran inside while Faith vaulted the fence to go after Turk. She landed in a forward roll, which softened the landing just enough that Faith could handle the pain that reverberated through her joints. How the hell could Turk do this so easily at his age?
Jessica called after Faith, but Faith couldn’t hear what she said. “Go through the front!” Faith called back. “Stay with Meyers!”
She ran after Turk, who was barking up a storm. When she rounded the corner of the building, she saw why. Steve Kent was in front of Turk, holding a knife in front of him and slashing wildly. Turk feinted, looking for openings, but Steve kept his knife in between himself and the dog.
“Hey!” Faith called, leveling her handgun at Steve. “Don’t you dare hurt my dog!”
Steve looked up at her and cursed. His eyes were wild, far less sane than they looked in his mugshot. He looked slyly to his left at the brick wall that separated the complex from the street behind.
“Don’t do it,” Faith warned.
A crashing sound ahead pulled Steve’s eyes up. Faith sprinted toward him, but Steve flicked the knife at Turk, missing the dog by inches and pulling Faith’s attention away.
Steve wasted not an instant of time. He bolted for the wall, showing surprising dexterity as he leaped the fence and continued to flee.
“Damn it!” Jessica called.
"Search the apartment!" Faith called back. "Find that gun! Meyers gets in the car and calls Arlington!"
She ran for the fence without waiting for an answer.
Turk outstripped her and climbed the fence, once more showing beyond human dexterity.
Faith took a few seconds longer to pull herself over the brick wall, shaking her head ruefully at the thought that her overweight suspect had managed it more easily than she had.
I need to hit the weight room more often, she thought to herself as she ran after Turk.
She heard a cry up ahead and called, “Take him down, Turk! Hold him!”
That was followed by a yelp, and ice flooded her veins when she saw Turk roll over onto his back. “Turk! No!”
Turk rolled back to his feet and shook his head, then sprinted back after Steve. Faith’s blood boiled. “Steve, you’d better surrender and start playing nice right now! If you hurt my dog, I’ll…”
She pushed her lips tightly together. She couldn’t cause problems with their case by threatening a suspect.
She followed Turk into the alley and found him cornering Steve again. The criminal was backed against a wall, knife drawn. Turk gave him a respectful buffer, not allowing him to leave but not putting himself at risk from the knife.
“Steve,” Faith called. “Put the knife down.”
Steve looked up at her, eyes not quite as wild as before but every bit as cunning. “Call your dog off, or I’ll cut him.”
Faith met his gaze and promised, “That will be the worst mistake of our life. Lay the weapon down and surrender.”
“Screw you.”
Faith aimed her handgun and said, “This is going to happen, Steve. All we’re arguing about right now is the easy way versus the hard way. Trust me, you want the easy way.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Steve protested. “I’m innocent!”
“There are two people who would beg to differ,” Faith replied. “You attacked a woman at a park in Stafford earlier today. We need to talk about that.”
Steve’s lower lip trembled. Turk crept forward with almost imperceptible stillness. Faith needed to keep him talking long enough for Turk to get close and strike.
“If you tell me what happened, we can work something out,” Faith said. “Let’s just put our weapons away and talk like reasonable people.” Steve looked past Faith, and she added, “No, that’s a bad idea. You want to end this chase and come quietly. You don’t want to resist.”
Turk launched himself at Steve. Steve flinched away, flailing with the knife. His reflexes were remarkable. He missed Turk with his blade, but Turk’s teeth closed around air inches from Steve’s arm.
Faith dove for Steve, but once again, he showed remarkable reflexes. He sidestepped her, and when she pivoted and reached for him again, he slammed his fist into her jaw. Faith saw stars and stumbled to her knees.
Turk released and enraged bark, and this time when he leaped for Steve, his teeth found their mark, sinking into Steve’s forearm. Steve screamed, and Turk dropped his weight, dragging his back paws on the ground and twisting his head, trying to pull Steve to the ground.
Steve was a big man, though, and while clearly in anguish from the bite, he found the fortitude to shake Turk off. Turk bounced off the wall with another yelp, but once more righted himself quickly.
Faith shook the cobwebs from her vision. Steve was sprinting toward the front of the alley, outpacing Turk for the moment, although that would change soon.
Or it would have. Instead, Turk stopped suddenly, pulling up short while still six or seven yards from Steve.
“What are you doing?” Faith cried. “Get him, boy!”
The reason for Turk’s halt became evident a moment later.
Steve exited the alley and made it two steps before the back of Meyers’s police cruiser slammed into his hip, sending him to the ground.
As soon as Turk saw the car, he leaped ahead, jumping on top of the downed suspect and holding him there while Faith and Meyers approached.
“Ow!” Steve cried. “Ow! All right! All right, you’ve got me! God damn it!”
Faith pointed her handgun at his head. “Stay down! You make one move to harm my dog, and I’ll pull this trigger!”
“All right!” Steve shouted, glaring angrily at him. “Fuck! I get it! Let me go, you assholes!”
“Not a chance,” Meyers said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt.
“Let him go,” Faith commanded Turk. “Steve, roll over and put your hands behind your back.”
“Sure, if I can still move them,” Steve growled. “Bitch.”
He complied with Faith’s instruction, though, rolling over and allowing Meyers to cuff him.
Blood trickled from the bite wound on his forearm.
Meyers pulled him to a sitting position, then called into his radio, “Suspect in custody. I need an ambulance at…” He looked at the building across the street. “Five-fourteen Chesterfield.”
A voice crackled an acknowledgement, and Meyers turned to Steve. “We’re going to get paramedics to check you out before we take you in for questioning.”
“Aw, gee, you’re so fucking kind,” Steve growled. “Thank you.”
“Steve Kent,” Faith said. “You’re under arrest for the murders of—”
“What?” Kent snapped. “Murders?”
“Shut up and let me finish,” Faith snapped. “Yes. You’re under arrest for the murders of—”
“I didn’t kill anyone! Are you kidding me?”
He seemed genuinely alarmed, which made sense considering the penalty he was facing.
He also seemed genuinely confused, which boded very poorly for them.
Then again, criminals lied all the time, and Steve had shown no problem with violence. She would reserve judgment for the moment, but after this chase, she was more hopeful than before that they had finally found their man.
And if they hadn’t, it was still good that they’d gotten Steve Kent off the street. That might turn out to be a thin silver lining, but it was something.
Then again, if he wasn’t their murderer, then that something might not be enough.