CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Question,” Jessica asked. “What if we’re looking at this the wrong way?”
Faith, whose thoughts still felt like they were floating through murky water, shrugged. “I’ll bite. What way should we be looking at it?”
The two of them were back in their hotel room, trying to create a profile of their killer.
Their search for aggrieved adopters or former owners who might have interacted with all three victims turned up nothing.
However, they were able to confirm that all victims were at one point decision-makers in the adoption process.
That was a connection, but without a connection between all three of them, they needed another reason why these people in particular had been targeted.
“Well, we’re assuming that we’re looking for someone who’s pissed either because they couldn’t get a dog or because a dog was taken from them, right?”
“Right.”
“The thing is, this killer murdered his victims in front of dogs. I guess Matthew not so much, but that was because Carl was in the building when the killer attacked. I don’t think he cares much about the dogs. You saw how traumatized Bonnie was.”
“Bonnie?”
“The collie. She was on the verge of a heart attack. And the first dog, the rottweiler, had to be sedated and moved elsewhere. These aren’t the acts of someone who cares about dogs.”
Faith nodded. “Then again, Lucas Hayes cared about the dogs he went after. He actually wanted to take one for himself. Granted, he was very selfish, but from his perspective, he loved those dogs.”
“Yeah, but he sedated them. This guy hasn’t.”
“He isn’t afraid of them,” Faith countered. “Lucas was afraid that the dogs would alert others to his presence. He killed in broad daylight with other people around.”
“Only with one of the victims,” Jessica said. “And this killer hasn’t released any of the dogs either. He just kills his victims and leaves them there.”
Faith leaned forward and steepled her fingers. The fog was clearing somewhat as she brainstormed with Jessica. “So, what then? This guy hates dogs?”
“Hate is a strong word, but maybe he feels that some dogs don’t deserve adoption.”
Faith frowned. “Then why wouldn’t he kill the dogs or hurt them in some way?”
“Maybe he thinks of them as dumb animals. If some guy walks his pit bull without a leash, and the pit bull mauls you, do you get mad at the pit bull, or the idiot not holding the leash.”
Faith nodded slowly. “Okay. I could see that. So maybe a dog bite victim or something?”
“I don’t know, but all of our victims had a reputation of advocating strongly for adoption. Maybe the guy we’re looking for disagreed with that.”
Faith leaned back in her chair. “No offense, but that seems like a stretch.”
“A lot of our killers turn out to be murderers based on the thinnest of justifications. I think it’s worth looking into, at least.”
She had a point. “All right. Let’s look for anyone who might have disagreed with their generosity toward dogs. Maybe dog bite victims or their family members or colleagues who disagreed with their methods.”
“I’d start with dog bite victims. The murders were all very violent. This doesn’t strike me as the kind of spree spawned by simple disagreement. I’m thinking these guys might have advocated for the adoption of aggressive dogs.”
Faith had seen equally violent murders for less, but she was inclined to agree with Jessica. Sarah Garrett was definitely working with aggressive dogs. The dog present when she was killed was a former fighting dog.
But he didn’t bite the killer.
That gave Faith pause, but not all dogs who bit would bite everyone. If the killer was intimidating enough, Max might not have been brave enough to bit him, especially with past trauma from intimidating men.
She looked up a list of dog bite victims in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex within the past year and whistled when she saw the substantial results. “Damn.”
“It’s a big metropolitan area,” Jessica said. “Over eight million people, over one million dogs. Honestly, having only a thousand or so results is a pretty low number.”
“When you put it that way, I guess it makes sense,” Faith replied. “I’m just not used to thinking of dogs as violent. Not unless they have good reason to be.”
“A lot of them probably did,” Jessica pointed out.
“Let’s see if we can filter by dogs that interacted with our victims’ animal shelters.
It might be more difficult to determine if the dogs actually interacted with our victims, but we can figure out if they interacted with the shelters and go from there. ”
They spent the next hour putting together a list of dogs that were taken to the three shelters listed.
Predictably, a sizable number were taken to the Tarrant County shelter since two animal control offices were headquartered there.
However, very few dogs spent time at all three shelters.
When they weeded through everything, they had a list of sixteen dogs that spent time at all three shelters.
Most of them arrived at the Plano shelter and were transferred to the Tarrant County facility because the larger shelter was better equipped to handle violent dogs.
From there, they were sent to the Dallas Doghouse as part of a rehabilitation exchange program.
A few followed a reverse pattern where they started at the Doghouse but were transferred to Plano or Tarrant County when their rehabilitation failed.
Faith noted that both of the government doghouses were kill shelters.
Dallas wasn’t, but was it really different if they just sent dogs somewhere else to die?
She kept that thought in the back of her head in case the hypothesis about a vengeful dog bite victim or family member of one didn’t pan out.
They looked through each dog one at a time.
That took another two hours of following up on each family member and victim, determining whether they still lived in the area and then listing them in order based on their level of anger.
None of the victims had been explicitly violent, but several family members, particularly parents of children who had been bitten, were very belligerent over the phone.
No one appeared to have visited the shelters in person. That was concerning. People didn’t tend to progress from phone calls to murder, but physical encounters often simmered in people’s minds long enough to push them over the edge.
Then again, it wasn’t unheard of. Many killers were shy and unassuming.
Some even had a crippling fear of human interaction.
Their repressed anxiety, loneliness, and resentment eventually boiled over, and they lashed out at targets that were usually substitutes for authority figures or unrequited objects of affection in their own lives.
Faith sighed and rubbed her face. She was wandering.
She didn’t like this. She was usually focused to a fault.
In most cases, she had to force herself to let her mind wander lest her fixations blind her to a crucial clue.
This time, she was ruminating over criminal theory when she should be focusing on which of these victims could potentially have wanted their victims dead.
“I’m only coming up with three people,” Jessica said. “Two victims and the father of one victim. Everyone else moved out years ago.”
Thank God for Faith’s partner. “Who are they?”
“Gavin Faulkner, Yana Montgomery and Jed Oakley. Oakley’s the father. The victim was his twelve-year-old son.”
“Okay. I’ll call the father. You call Faulkner, and whoever finishes first gets to talk to Montgomery.”
“Works for me. You mind starting some more coffee? I’m beat.”
Faith looked at her fresh-faced, bright-eyed partner and smirked. “You mean I’m beat, but you don’t want to sound rude.”
“If you want, I can just say you look like you’re still dreaming, and it would be nice for you to wake up.”
Jessica smiled as she said that, but it still stung. “I take it back. I like the tactful request better.”
Jessica patted Faith’s arm affectionately. She didn’t seem angry at all that Faith was off her game. Faith imagined that was partly because Jessica was on top of things and partly understanding that Faith was dealing with some serious problems at home.
It still wasn’t an excuse. People were dying fast, and they were relying on Faith to stop this. They had called her specifically. Both of them, yes, but both of them. Not just Jessica.
Turk barked, and Faith looked down from the coffeemaker to see him looking up at her with concern. He had a sixth sense that seemed to tell him whenever Faith needed a little extra attention.
She dropped to her knees and hugged him close, kissing his cheek and holding him for several minutes while the coffee percolated.
She overheard Jessica talking to Gavin Faulkner.
It seemed the conversation wasn’t going well, at least not for the investigators.
When it finished, Jessica sighed and said, “Well, he has alibis for all three murders. I’ll verify them, but I’m ninety percent sure they’re going to come back clean. ”
Faith gave Turk a final affectionate pat and stood. “Each lead we eliminate brings us closer to the lead we don’t have to eliminate,” she told Jessica. “Don’t lose hope.”
Jessica glanced at the clock. “I’m more worried about losing time than losing hope.”
Faith poured two mugs of coffee and carried them back to the desk.
Her head felt clearer after Turk’s help, but the clarity only made Jessica’s words sharper.
This killer was moving faster than anyone they’d met so far.
There was a very real chance that the day would end with another victim.
They couldn’t afford to spend hours sifting through leads. They needed something concrete soon.
She dialed Jed Oakley’s number and said a silent prayer that she’d get something solid.
The call went to voicemail. Faith left a brief message identifying herself and asking for a call back as soon as possible, then hung up and glanced at Jessica. She was on the phone with Yana Montgomery and didn’t seem to be getting any further with that conversation either.
They didn’t have nearly enough to justify hounding Jed Oakley to return their call, so she figured they would have to move on to professional conflicts. Before she could get started, though, her phone rang. Jed Oakley had called her back.
She answered in a pleasant tone. “Hello, Mr. Oakley?”
“Yeah, this is Jed.”
“Jed, I’m Special Agent Faith Bold of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. How are you doing today?”
“Well… the FBI’s calling me, so I’m not sure. How am I doing?”
Faith chuckled politely. “I guess that depends on your answers to my questions.”
Jed dropped the wary politeness. “What’s this about?”
“I’m investigating the murders of three animal shelter employees over the past two days. Sarah Garrett, Matthew Brooks, and Linda Hale. Sound familiar?”
“Ah. I knew Sarah Garrett. She was the adoption specialist at the Plano Animal Shelter. I called her to report that one of the dogs they had up for adoption was responsible for mauling my son. She gave me an earful about how it was my son’s fault for approaching a strange dog without understanding the impact trauma has on animals. ”
“That must have been upsetting.”
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jed said. “I have security cameras at my house that will prove I was home for all of the past five days. I have contractors over installing heated floors, and I prefer to remain home when people are working on my house.”
Faith’s face fell, and she was glad Jed couldn’t see her. “I see. Well, this is just an informational call, but if you’re willing, we’ll take that footage.”
“Give me an email address, and I’ll send it along with a statement from my attorney about the purposes for which it’s legally allowed to be used.”
“Of course, sir.”
Jed paused a second, then spoke again in a less antagonistic voice. “While I have you on the phone, I think you’re looking in the wrong place.”
Faith’s ears perked up. “Do you have an idea where the right place might be?”
“Look up a guy named Dr. Elliot.”
“Dr. Elliot?” Faith said, looking pointedly at Jessica who had finished her phone call and was now listening intently to Faith’s. Jessica typed the name into the computer and began scanning the list of Dr. Elliots for a likely match to the one they were looking for.
“Yeah. I don’t know his first name. I just overheard Sarah mention that people like me and Dr. Elliot needed to stop threatening her just because she believed that dogs could be helped and didn’t need to be euthanized at the first sign of violence.”
“Did she talk at all about that threat?”
“No. To be honest, I didn’t ask. I just made it clear that I was in no way threatening her and my call was intended only to provide them with information. I was more concerned they would try to claim I was harassing them. I didn’t think anyone would actually kill them.”
“Faith?” Jessica said softly.
Faith looked to see Jessica pointing at a name on the screen.
Marcus Elliot, veterinary behaviorist. He was featured in a magazine article from five months prior where he insisted that euthanasia was the correct choice for most dogs identified as having behavioral issues.
“He names all three victims in the article,” Jessica told her.
Faith nodded. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Oakley.”
“May I have an email address to provide my alibi?”
“That won’t be necessary. Sorry to bother you.”
“Oh. All right. Good luck, special agent.”
He hung up, and Faith asked Jessica, “Really? He named our victims?”
“He mentioned that he spoke with Sarah Garrett at the Plano Animal Shelter, and she resisted the idea of euthanasia. He only mentioned Martin Brooks and Linda Hale in passing, but in both cases, he was referencing staff who allowed emotions to outweigh science. The general thrust of the article was that fully trained veterinary professionals were better equipped to know when euthanasia was correct than untrained ‘wage workers’ who didn’t understand canine psychology. ”
“Hmm.” Faith rubbed her chin. “Oakley said Sarah Garrett mentioned that a Dr. Elliot threatened her. This was in the middle of her yelling at him, so it looks like the threat was serious enough to scare her. Maybe there’s something here.”
“He lives here in Plano,” Jessica said. “It might be worth a visit.”
Faith checked the clock. They were running out of time. “Let’s hope so.”