Faith nodded at Jessica and turned to leave.Jessica pulled a card from her pocket and handed it to Jon, blushing furiously.“If you think of anything else, please give me a—giveusa call.”
Jon smiled at her, and Faith could almost see her melt.“I’ll do that.”
Well, maybe something good can come of this,Faith thought glumly.
The three agents left the construction site.To her credit, Jessica only wore her goofy smile for a minute or so after they left before her expression grew serious.“Okay, so we know this guy knows sculpture.”
“Or he has an Internet connection and can spell ‘How to keep a dead body stiff’.”
“Oh,” Jessica said quietly.
Faith sighed.“I’m sorry.I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No, I’m not upset at you.I’m just upset because you’re right.That went nowhere.”
“Yeah,” Faith agreed.“A dead end.”
“So, what do we know?”Jessica said.“This guy hates chaplains and blames them somehow for the deaths of servicemembers.He kills them violently and stages them in a way that mocks their religion.”
“I don’t see how he can blame them for the deaths of servicemembers,” Faith said.“They’re chaplains.They’re not medics, and they’re not brass.Trust me, the rank pinned onto their epaulettes means nothing.They have no authority in combat or anywhere else in the military outside of a chapel.”
“True, but our killer isn’t thinking clearly,” Jessica said as she unlocked her car.
“Fair enough,” Faith replied as she opened the door for Turk.“But I still don’t buy the blaming them for their death angle.”
“Then that’s what we need to focus on,” Jessica said.“Why the dog tags?What do they symbolize?Why does he want them included with his sculptures?”
Faith grimaced.“I really don’t like that you just called them sculptures.”
Jessica put the car in gear and pulled onto the road.“You don’t have to like it.I’m just saying that’s what he thinks of them as.”
“You think our killer’s an artist?”
“I think so.He’s sending a message, and a picture is worth a thousand words.Or in this case a sculpture.”
Faith let that thought percolate through her mind.“Maybe we look for veterans who are artists and also bitter toward religion.I’ll look up art therapy programs for veterans.I’m sure there’s at least one or two.We’ll see if any of the students harbor a deep-seated hatred for all things God.”
“Might be the most random lead we’ve come up with,” Jessica said, “but considering how random our cases have been so far, I don’t think it’s that farfetched.”
As Faith started searching for art programs geared toward veterans, she tried to imagine the mindset of a killer who saw his victims as clay for him to sculpt.Art was, at its very core, creation.Murder was, at its very core, destruction.So, what was this killer?
“Perversion,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Nothing.There’s an art studio in McLean that has a class reserved for veterans.That’s the closest thing I can find.”
“Punch the address in.We’ll check it out.”
Faith put the numbers into the Prius’s navigation screen, and the route to the Langley Art Academy populated.Jessica turned onto the highway, and Faith leaned back in her chair and thought about why their killer chose to pervert something beautiful.
And who would he corrupt next?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Director Angelique Belfort of the Langley Art Academy was a short, thin woman with long straight copper-colored hair, enormous round wire-rimmed glasses, and a mouth permanently formed in moue.She listened to Faith explain their purpose for attending, then blinked eyelashes so long they scraped the lenses of her glasses.
“I’m afraid I can’t cooperate with your request, Special Agent.The veterans who attend my class are all beautiful souls who seek guidance and purpose through artistic expression.They all harbor bitterness and anger from their experiences.It’s not right to judge them for this when they are seeking a healthy avenue to release those emotions.”
