“Did anyone have a problem with Linda?”
“I don’t know.I didn’t know her that well.”He lifted a shaking hand to his face, wincing when his fingertips brushed the skin under his eye.
“Can you recall anyone angry with anyone here?A prospective adopter maybe who was angry about being denied a dog?”
Hansen frowned slightly, and it occurred to Faith that she’d just asked a leading question, a big no-no in investigatory work, and a rookie mistake, especially for an agent with her experience.Faith’s head felt furry, like she was still shaking off the fog of her dreams.That wasn’t good.If she couldn’t be a hundred percent, it would seriously impede her ability to investigate.
Her mistake didn’t seem to matter this time since Martinez shook his head.“No, we don’t really have trouble with that here.Sometimes people are upset when animal control picks up their dogs, but they’re always calmed down by the end.The officers are really good about helping them through the process.”His face fell.“I’m usually out of here by eleven-thirty, though.I start early and work through my breaks so I can leave.I wouldn’t know if anything happened later in the day.”
Faith nodded.She probably wasn’t going to get anything else from him, especially with her head this furry.She handed him a business card and said, “If you think of something, let me know.”
Hansen clapped him on the shoulder again.“Come on.I’ll get you a ride.You probably shouldn’t be driving anywhere right now.”
He led the shaking Martinez out of the building and Faith stepped into the animal containment center.Unlike the previous two shelters, this place was a cacophony of noise.The animals here were going crazy, howling, barking, growling, scratching, whining, and even squawking, hissing, and meowing.Most of the animals were dogs, but there was a notable number of other animals too.
The dog in the cage immediately in front of Faith, a beautiful female collie, was pressed against the back of her cage, shaking and whining, staring in horror at the body lying in front of the cage.Faith frowned and called to one of the animal control officers clustered together a few cages down.“Can we move her?She shouldn’t be here looking at this.”
The officer shook her head.“That door’s the only way in or out.We can’t take her out without screwing up the crime scene.”
“Well, maybe sedate her or something.She’s going to give herself a heart attack.”
The officer nodded and said something to one of his fellows, who left the room, presumably to get a sedative.Faith walked to Jessica, who was kneeling in front of the body.Turk was sniffing around the blood pooled beneath the victim.
Linda Hale looked to be about forty years old, of average height and build, with medium-length nutbrown hair and hazel eyes obscured behind a pair of thin glasses.Well, one hazel eye behind a half-pair of glasses.The other eye was burst and had melted around a standard screwdriver with an enamel handle covering the orbit and extending four inches beyond her head.A small scrap of paper with the now familiar handwriting dangled from the handle, secured with twine like a macabre Christmas ornament.SLAYER. Small bits of glass from the shattered lens were scattered around her cheek.
“I assume the killer wasn’t expressing his love of thrash metal,” Jessica said, gesturing at the note.
“My guess would be no,” Faith said.
“Screwdriver this time,” Jessica remarked.“Think he’s just closing his eyes and grabbing something random out of a toolbox?”
Faith stood and crossed her arms.It bothered her that the killer chose a different weapon for each murder.It wasn’t unheard of for there to be minor variations in a killer’s MO depending on circumstances but a railroad spike in the mouth, electric shock, and then a screwdriver in the eye?The only consistent part of the MO were the notes.And the fact that the victims worked in animal shelters.
Maybe the weapons didn’t matter.Maybe it really was just whatever the killer felt was convenient at the time.If so, then what did that say about their killer?Was he organized or disorganized?Was he killing people on purpose or just showing up early to shelters and offing the first people he saw?
“Could be something to do with the body parts,” Jessica suggested.“Sarah Garrett’s mouth, Linda Hale’s eye.”
“And Matthew Brooks’ entire body?”
“His skin, maybe.Could be a race thing.”
“But only in his case?”Faith shook her head.“I don’t want to fit a square peg into a round hole.We’ve got three bodies and three different weapons.I think it’s time to accept that we’re not going to learn anything trying to find meaning in the murder weapon.”
“Yeah, you’re right.It’s too bad the dog can’t talk,” Jessica remarked.“Poor girl must have seen the whole thing.”
Faith looked up at the poor collie.An animal control officer was in with her now, gently brushing her fur and preparing to insert a syringe into her neck.As soon as the dose was administered, she lay her head against the officer, sighed, and waited for sleep.
Faith looked at Turk, who watched the whole process mournfully.“Anything, boy?”
He dipped his head and snorted, then approached the note dangling from the screwdriver.He sniffed it gingerly, then snorted again.
“I think he’s right,” Jessica said.“The note is the key.Have we gotten a handwriting analysis from Fort Worth yet?”
“Not yet,” Faith replied.
She frowned, realizing they hadn’t taken a handwriting sample from Trevor Walsh.They needed to do that from now on.Damn it, she really was off her game.
“I think we need to compare handwriting from all of our suspects going forward,” Jessica said.“It might be worth getting one from Walsh too.”
