CHAPTER SEVEN
Trevor Walsh lived in a small, sixteen-unit apartment complex just over a mile from the shelter.
The building was old, and the paint was starting to peel in some places, but the property was clean and appeared fairly well-maintained.
Faith imagined the owners were more careful about keeping the place up since they were within walking distance of the police department.
“This is bullshit. You guys found a gram of pot. Give me my ticket and fuck off.”
Faith stepped up to the door to see Trevor standing in his living room, his finger stuck in the chest of a female officer who watched him impassively, barely affected by his tantrum.
He was a tall, muscular man with a scruffy beard and hair that was a few weeks overdue for a haircut.
He blinked at the agents for a moment, then said, “What the shit? Why are you guys here?”
Turk approached Trevor, tail switching, ears alert.
Trevor let him approach, not bothered at all.
That didn’t necessarily mean anything since their killer had murdered Sarah Garrett inches away from a massive Rottweiler, so he was clearly comfortable around dogs.
Turk didn’t react when he sniffed Trevor’s feet, though, and that could mean something.
He was usually good at determining if someone was violent or not.
“You’re dog’s beautiful,” Trevor observed. “Shitty weed dog, though. Your sweetheart has a gram in her pocket right now, and he walked right past it.”
“We’re not looking for weed,” Faith replied. “We’re looking for the person who killed Sarah Garrett and Matthew Brooks.”
“What? Seriously?”
“You can just assume that everything we say and do is serious,” Jessica replied.
Trevor looked between the officers, and understanding dawned on his face. “This didn’t have anything to do with weed at all, did it? You were just detaining me until they could get here.”
“Let’s have a conversation, Trevor,” Faith said. “If we like what we hear, then we get out of your hair. We won’t even give you shit about the weed, will we, officer?”
“We will not,” the female officer replied. Her male partner didn’t seem happy with that, but he deferred to the older, more experienced policewoman.
Trevor chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his unkempt hair. “I mean… I’m not really sure I should talk to you guys. I don’t know Sarah Garrett or… what was the other guy’s name?”
“You definitely know Sarah Garrett,” Faith said. “Because she denied your second adoption application when you returned Cammie.”
Trevor chuckled again, this time in frustration. He dropped his head to his chest and folded his arms. “Yeah… That kind of sucked.”
“From what we heard, you weren’t so calm when you talked to her about it a month ago.”
“Well, we didn’t talk. I brought the Chow Chow back because the fucker bit me on the hand.
I asked for a calm dog, something a ten-year-old boy could take care of without having to worry about getting his face bit off.
I got Cammie for my nephew, by the way. Did they mention that at the Plano shelter? ”
“It came up,” Faith replied. “It also came up that you broke their door on your way out.”
Trevor laughed. Apparently that was his nervous tic. “Well, come on, guys, I was pissed. I brought the dog back because it bit my hand, and they wanted to give me shit about getting another one. I thought they wanted people to adopt their dogs.”
“Good people who don’t lie about being experienced handlers,” Jessica pointed out.
Trevor glared at her. “Fuck you.”
“Quick temper, eh, Trevor?” Jessica replied.
Trevor rolled his eyes. “I lied because they said they only gave dogs to experienced handlers.”
“That dog, yes, because it was an aggressive breed that hadn’t been properly trained or socialized as a puppy,” Faith replied. “They wanted to place it in the care of someone who could handle it.”
“Well… He wanted a Chow Chow.”
“Your nephew.”
“Yeah. My sister…”
He sighed and dropped his head. When he lifted his eyes again, he wore a pleading expression. “Look, I got into trouble a few years ago, and I did some time. A two-spot at the Colony.”
“The George Beto Unit in Tennessee Colony about two hours south of here,” the male officer explained.
“Oh,” Faith said, raising an eyebrow. “What was that for?”
Trevor shifted his feet. “Armed assault.”
“Aggravated assault with a deadly weapon,” the female officer corrected. “Plead down from attempted murder.”
Faith whistled. “That’s pretty serious.”
“It’s pretty bullshit is what it is,” Trevor said. “I didn’t try to kill the guy, I tried to scare him.”
“You shot him through the femoral artery,” the male officer replied.
“Yeah, on accident! How was I supposed to know shooting someone in the leg would kill them?”
“Let’s just acknowledge that you have a violent history,” Faith said.
“You got into an altercation with at least one of our victims. We’ll set aside the question of whether your violent history resurfaced in your encounter with Sarah Garrett.
Talk to me about Matthew Brooks. What’s your relationship with him? ”
“Nonexistent. Who is he?”
“The man who died outside of the Dallas Doghouse less than two hours ago,” Faith said.
“What?” His eyes widened. “Oh, shit. The shelter across from the police station.”
“So now you know him?” Jessica prodded.
“Not him, no,” Trevor replied. “But I know the Doghouse. I tried to get a dog there after things didn’t work out in Plano. They rejected me too because of my criminal history. That’s why I wasn’t honest to begin with. I knew they were going to do that.”
He sniffed and calmed down again. Once more, his face took on a pleading look. “My sister stopped letting me talk to my nephew after I went to prison. She just started letting me see him again. I wanted to get him a dog so I could, I don’t know. Do something meaningful.”
He sat on the edge of a torn-up couch that groaned in protest at the weight. “I’m really trying to turn my life around, you know. I wasn’t a good man for a long time. I know that. I’m trying to fix that, but it’s really hard. No one gives you a chance.”
“That’s not true,” Faith said. “You have a chance. You have one right now. You know who doesn’t? Sarah Garrett. Matthew Brooks.”
Trevor sniffed and met Faith with an empty-eyed expression that Faith had seen on the faces of a lot of people who’d given up and acted on that in the worst possible way. “Yeah. Well, maybe they had it easy. They don’t have to keep getting their ass kicked.”
Faith shared a look with Jessica then looked back at Trevor. “What were you up to this morning?”
He scoffed. “I was at work.”
“What time?”
“I was working graveyard at the FedEx Shipping Center in Forth Worth. I got off at seven and headed home. I got here around eight and had time to start a pot of coffee when the doorbell rang and I opened it to meet my new best friends.”
He looked up at the cops, smiling sourly. They didn’t return his smile.
Faith’s heart sank. “Can anyone verify that you were at work?”
“Yeah, my supervisor, my coworkers, the cameras. I told your buddies already. They have a bunch of cameras watching the loading area now because of people stealing packages. I’m sure you can see me on most of them.”
Jessica dropped her head. Trevor laughed bitterly. “Yeah, sorry to disappoint you. I know how much you wanted me to be your murderer.”
Faith just wanted innocent people to stop dying, and she was sure Jessica did too. She could understand why Trevor might feel upset about their obvious disappointment, though. “Jessica, can you follow up on that, please?”
Jessica stepped away to do that, and Faith asked, “What about last night? This would be early evening, around seven o’clock.”
“I was here,” he said. “I don’t have an alibi for that one, but if you think it’s the same guy who killed both people, then it definitely can’t be me.”
Faith did think that the same killer killed both Sarah and Matthew, but Trevor’s documented conflict was with Sarah, so she didn’t want to dismiss Trevor entirely as a suspect. Still, without more evidence, they couldn’t prove that he was involved.
“Do you have any travel plans, Mr. Walsh”
Trevor laughed. “No. I’ll be right here if you feel like talking again. Or at the FedEx Shipping Center in Fort Worth. Until they fire me when they figure out about this, at least.”
Jessica stepped closer. Faith looked at her partner, and she nodded. “He was there. Clocked out at seven, chatted with coworkers for fifteen minutes or so, then headed home. He wouldn’t have gotten to the Doghouse until eight, and Matthew was already dead by then.”
Faith sighed. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else, Mr. Walsh. Thank you for your time.”
“I mean, you didn’t really give me a choice.”
Faith met his eyes, and something in her expression caused him to pale.
“If you killed Sarah Garrett, we will find out, and we will make sure you receive justice. If you didn’t kill her, then do your nephew a favor: quit smoking weed, clean this place up, get your hair cut, and help your sister adopt a dog.
You do have a chance at a better life, but you have to put effort into it. ”
Trevor swallowed. “Okay. I will.”
Faith wasn’t confident that Trevor meant that and wasn’t just saying what he thought she wanted to hear. She also wasn’t confident at all that he was their suspect anymore.
On their way out, Jessica told the police officers to keep an eye on Trevor and note any unusual comings and goings. They promised to do so, but it was clear they didn’t think he was the killer either. They had wasted their time.
On the drive back to the hotel, Jessica asked, “So what next?”
“We go back to basics,” Faith replied. “We got lucky with that lead right off the bat. It didn’t pan out, so we look where we would normally look: coworkers, friends, family, acquaintances, anyone else who might have had a reason to want them dead.”
Jessica nodded. “Yeah. I was afraid you’d say that.”
Faith glanced at her. “Why afraid?”
“Because Matthew was well-liked too. According to Carl, he was always helping people around the shelter, picking up shifts, assisting with difficult dogs, bringing nice Christmas gifts… We’re dealing with two goody-two-shoes.”
“Maybe that made someone jealous,” Faith suggested.
“Do you really think that’s what it is?” Jessica asked in a tone that suggested she really didn’t.
Faith didn’t either. She sighed and admitted, “No. But we’re going to look into it anyway. Leave no stone unturned.”
Jessica looked through the windshield and voiced the fear Faith hadn’t. “I’m just worried that while we’re looking behind rocks, our killer’s going to murder someone else.”
Faith’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as she contemplated the speed with which this killer was moving.
Two people within twelve hours at the very start of the case.
Whoever they were, the rage that had built inside of them was all coming out at once.
Faith feared that they were going to encounter a few more handwritten notes before this was all over.