CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Faith scanned the small crowd at the dog park, looking for anyone suspicious.
Only about two hundred people had arrived with maybe half that many dogs, decent enough to justify the seventy or so police and sheriff’s officers providing security or passing out sandwiches and snacks to the attendees.
Actually, not remotely decent enough, so they had sent a dozen or so to escort Amanda Wright and her news team.
Everyone was upbeat, following Meyers’s instructions to stay happy.
They wanted their killer to feel comfortable watching Faith.
He wouldn’t approach, though. Not with all of these cops.
She lifted her eyes and looked beyond the crowd, scanning the park beyond.
They had set up the stage so it faced the park, believing it more likely that their killer would hide among the trees or walk along one of the paths rather than park in the lot and walk directly to the dog park.
If anything, Jessica and Turk were waiting in the car, so they’d see him if he showed up there.
And they needed the killer to be brave. Just brave enough to come close enough that they could catch him before he ditched his gun.
Faith’s smile faded briefly as it hit her just how much a shot in the dark this little plan of hers was. A lot needed to go right in order for it to work. She was beginning to understand why Jessica was resistant to it.
“Okay, Bold,” Amanda whispered. “We’re going to get started. You’re sure you guys can stop this madman before he mows down the whole park?”
He definitely wasn’t going to mow down the whole park, but Faith just replied, “I’m sure.”
Amanda sighed and shook her head, then smiled and waved at her camera man. He gave her a thumbs up.
Amanda turned to the crowd and said, “All right, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Veterans Memorial Park!”
She lifted her hands exuberantly, and an uncertain cheer rose from the crowd, many of whom were no doubt here only for the free food.
That was fine. It would only make Faith’s joy stand out more.
Or Amanda’s, but Amanda’s smile looked a lot faker than Faith’s.
Just in case, Faith would make sure the police escort stayed with them all the way to the news van.
“I’m here with the woman of the hour, Miss Natasha Declan!”
Faith beamed at the crowd and waved. She brightened when she saw a Scottish terrier wagging his tail exuberantly at her. The dog looked like it was going to explode with excitement, and Faith mirrored it, clapping her hands, then placing them over her heart.
“Well, I was going to ask if you were happy to be here,” Amanda said, “but I guess we know the answer to that!”
“Oh my gosh, yes!” Faith exclaimed. “I just love dogs so much!” She flipped her hand, “And I guess people are okay, too.”
The crowd laughed politely, and now some real smiles came to their faces. Who didn’t love a woman who loved dogs?
“Just so you know,” Jessica said over the radio earpiece in Faith’s ear. “Turk is personally offended that you’re playing with other dogs while he’s stuck in the car.”
Faith laughed and turned her bright smile to Amanda.
They had a brief interview that mirrored the one Faith had taken on the network that morning, extolling the virtues of her fake charity and promising to have a website up by the end of the week.
She felt a little bad about that lie. Some of these people would probably try to look her up so they could donate.
She wondered if she could work with the Prince William County Animal Rescue Society to put up a link to their page.
That’s for later. Focus on the job.
The interview concluded with the announcement of the award. The Prince William County Sheriff’s Office band—a tuba, a drummer, a trombone, and two trumpets—played a barely listenable rendition of what sounded like circus tent music while Amanda placed a cheap brass medal around Faith’s neck.
Faith made sure to look like she was bursting with joy even as she was tensing with anxiety. She didn’t see any sign of anyone suspicious.
“Okay, well,” Amanda said, a little tense herself as she realized this had all been for no reason. “Enjoy your lunch, everyone! Miss Declan, will you be joining us?”
“I think I’ll enjoy a moment of meditation,” Faith replied, “but I’ll be back soon. Save some oatmeal raisin cookies for me!”
Someone cracked a joke about letting her have all the oatmeal raisin cookies. Faith didn’t get it, but she laughed anyway.
Then she slipped off the stage and headed into the park. The Sheriff’s deputies made sure to look the other way so she could reach the first bend in the path and be hidden by the trees before they “realized” she was gone.
She looked around, scanning for literally anyone or anything as the noise of the celebration faded in the background. She saw nothing.
She sighed. What a damned waste of time. How could she have thought this was going to work? Was she that desperate?
Yes. Yes, she was. And sleep deprived. And still disturbed by the unwelcome reminder of Trammell that this case brought her. And worried about David, who was possibly just “being a man” like Jessica seemed to think or was struggling with some mystery that he didn’t want to share with her.
To sum up, she wasn’t at her best. She was failing the people she had promised to protect.
She shouldn’t have taken this case. She wasn’t asked to.
She just happened to be there to discover Iris Caldwell, but she should have let Meyers run with it instead of inserting herself just because dogs were involved.
He might not have gotten to the killer any faster than she would, but he could have—
A branch snapped to her left. She whirled that direction and saw him.
He was about six-one, shorter than Faith had guessed, but wider in build, carrying most of his weight on thick thighs and a barrel-shaped core.
He didn’t wear a hoodie, but his baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, and he wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a windbreaker with a turned-up collar that further obscured his features.
And of course, he wore generic size thirteen work boots that looked like they had cost forty dollars brand-new and were now scuffed to hell.
His hand was in his pocket, and when he saw Faith, he bared his teeth and pulled out a small hideaway gun.
Faith drew her handgun, leveling her weapon at him before he could bring his own gun all the way out of his pocket. “Drop it!” she commanded. “Put it down, now!”
“Faith?” Jessica said. “Shit, you’re supposed to tell me if you see him! Turk, let’s go!”
The killer blinked, stunned that Faith drew his weapon faster than he could draw his. Faith repeated her command, still grinning like a fool. “It’s over. Drop the weapon and put your hands on top of your head.”
The killer stared at her in disbelief. “Why are you smiling? Why the hell are you smiling? I was about to kill you, and you’re happy?”
“You’re not going to kill anyone else,” Faith said. “That’s what makes me happy.”
“Why do you get to be happy?” the killer said. “It’s not fair. I’m a good person.”
Faith had to stifle laughter at that. She dropped her smile too.
“There. I’m not smiling anymore. That good enough for you?
” Turk barked in the distance, and she added, “That’s my K9.
He’s not like the dogs you beat. He can handle you easily.
He’s got my partner and all of those sheriff’s deputies and police officers coming with him.
It’s over. This is your chance to come without getting hurt. ”
The killer looked at his empty hand as though realizing something. “Oh yeah. I forgot my club.”
“All the more reason to not be holding that gun when they get here,” Faith said. When the killer still didn’t drop the gun, Faith tried a different approach. “I’m Special Agent Faith Bold, FBI. What’s your name?”
“Kenneth,” the killer replied absently.
“Kenneth, why don’t you put the gun down for me?
We’ll talk. I don’t want to hurt you. If you can drop your weapon, I’ll put mine away, okay?
I have to handcuff you, but I can get you away from the crowd and take you somewhere safe.
I’ll get you a meal too. You like Mexican food?
It’s damned hard to find good Mexican food in Virginia, but I know the best spot.
I’ll get you the best burrito you’ve ever had, and you can tell me what’s been going on with you. ”
Kenneth lifted his eyes to her. She couldn’t see behind the sunglasses, but the pain on the lower half of his face was palpable.
Faith couldn’t quite bring herself to feel sympathy for him, but she felt a whisper of something akin to compassion.
“Let’s just take it easy, Kenneth. We can at least get you comfortable. Won’t that be nice?”
Turk barked again, much closer this time.
“You’ve only got a few more seconds,” Faith warned. “Then this becomes very painful.”
Kenneth chuckled bitterly. He looked down at the gun.
“Bad idea,” Faith said, drawing the hammer back. “Very bad idea, Kenneth. Let’s be smart, okay?”
“You know,” Kenneth said, “it really sucks that the nicest people in my life are the guy who kicked me out of my apartment and the FBI agent about to arrest me. Nice job with the whole dog charity story. I really thought you were some stupid twat who was happy for no good reason.”
“Kenneth, put the gun—Kenneth!”
He turned away from Faith and lifted the gun toward his head in one smooth motion. Because he turned away, she couldn’t shoot his hand and make him drop the gun. She started forward, but she wouldn’t reach him before he killed himself.
A blur of black and brown leaped into the air, and an instant later, Kenneth cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Turk stood above him, teeth clamped around his wrist. He lifted his head, forcing the gun away from Kenneth’s body and harmlessly up toward the trees.
“No!” Kenneth cried. “Let me go!”
He punched Turk in the ribs, but the movement was awkward from the position he was lying in, and his blows landed far too softly to hurt the dog. Faith jumped on his arm and forced it to the ground, then grabbed his other hand and pried the .22 out of his grasp.
Kenneth struggled until Faith took the gun away, then went limp. He burst into tears, weeping like a child and muttering, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”
Turk looked at Faith. She nodded, and he released him, backing away and watching while Faith rolled Kenneth onto his belly and handcuffed him.
Jessica jogged up a moment later. She blinked in confusion at the scene. “Did he just give up?”
Faith looked down at the weeping man, who continued to mutter about how unfair it was that Turk had prevented him from taking his own life. “Yeah,” she replied. “You could say that.”