Chapter Twenty Four

Michael waited until they were on the highway before asking. "You gonna tell me why you look mad instead of happy? And don't tell me it's because you had to drive that truck."

She sighed. "He didn't have a knife."

"Clarke?"

"Yeah. Our killer murdered all four of his victims with a double-edged knife, probably a dagger of some sort. Clarke didn't even carry a knife."

"Yeah, I wondered about that too," Michael said. "On the flip side, an animal control officer fits our profile. He carries a dog whistle for work, has an excuse to prowl neighborhoods at night, and has an excuse to blow that whistle and wake up everyone's dogs. He already killed someone tonight, and it doesn't take much brainpower to avoid carrying a murder weapon with you at all times, especially if it's something unique like a double-edged dagger. He could have killed Jessica, stashed the knife at home, and then gone to work. Hell, it might be in his truck somewhere. We'll see what the officers say after they search it."

Faith's unease lessened a little. "Yeah. Maybe that's where it is."

"Besides, we expected false alarms," Michael said. "If he's not our guy, then he's not our guy. The point of this arrest is that our system works. I know you're not a big Wanda Simonich supporter right now, and I'm not exactly her number one fan either, but she was right about that. This is only the first collar. It doesn't have to be the last one."

Faith relaxed a little more. "Yeah. Good point." She took a deep breath and released it. "Okay. Thanks for talking me down."

"Don't mention it. That's literally my job. Seriously, that's why the Boss partnered me with you."

"Yes, I know. He told me to my face when I was assigned to the Philadelphia Field Office."

"Did he?"

"Yep. He said, and I quote, ‘I'm assigning you to Prince because he won't put up with your temper. You start freaking out, and he'll either calm you down or shut you up. Either one's fine with me.'"

Michael chuckled. "Yeah, I'm not surprised. You always were his favorite."

She looked at him ruefully. "Sometimes I wish he actually hated me."

"Oh no. That's worse. Then you get to deal with a fifteen-plus-year career and the knowledge that you'll never climb above Special Agent."

She scoffed. "That's on you, dude. You've practically broadcasted to the world that you don't want to advance. Be honest. If they offered you ASAC, would you take it?"

"Well, no, but it'd be nice for someone to ask."

"Because you could tell them to shove it?"

"I've always wanted to do that. What's wrong with that?"

She laughed. "Can't say I haven't felt the same way sometimes."

The police radio buzzed, and Wanda's strained voice came over the channel. "Hey, agents, are you anywhere near Bowling Green right now?"

"I have no idea where that is," Faith said.

"It's about five miles east of Holbrook."

"I'm not from here, Wanda. I need addresses."

"Got it," Michael said, holding up the GPS on his phone. "We're eight minutes away, Wanda."

Wanda sighed. "Thank God. We got another call. Same thing, dogs going crazy."

Faith instantly went to high alert. "Did they give a description of the suspect?"

"No, they only heard the dogs."

"Where exactly?"

"One thousand blocks of Amish Lane."

Michael tapped that into the cruiser's GPS. The route came up, and Faith turned the lights on and exited the freeway.

"All right," she said. "We're on our way. What's the ETA for your units?"

"Thirty minutes."

"What? Seriously?"

"We called off the patrols after we picked up Adrian Clarke."

Michael threw his hands up in the air and stared at the ceiling. Faith's blood began to boil.

"Any reason you would do that?" Michael asked. "Especially before interrogating Clarke and making sure he was actually our guy?"

"He looked really good. He was violent, he resisted arrest, he had a dog whistle—"

"He didn't have the goddamned murder weapon!" Michael shouted. "Did you want to wait to make sure it was in his truck or at least in his home before you threw the victory party?"

"Forget it," Faith said tersely. She was just as upset as Michael was, but now wasn't the time to argue. "Wanda, get those units to us ASAP, and get a helicopter in the air searching for a suspect."

"Yes, of course," the detective said contritely. "Will do. I'm… I'm sorry for—"

"Save it," Faith said. "Just get us some backup."

She sighed and looked at Michael. "That's why I'm not happy."

"Yeah. Me too." He took a deep breath and said, "Well, whatever. We'll do it ourselves. We've done it before."

Turk barked firmly, and a smile came to Faith's lips. "All right, Turk. Let's go catch a bad guy."

***

They reached the neighborhood in five minutes thanks to the wonderful ability of the cruiser to move faster than the lumbering box Faith had to drive to the scene of Clarke's arrest. The moment she opened the door, she knew they were in the right place.

Turk barked and shook his head, whining and growling. Around her, she could hear several other dogs barking and howling. The streets were empty, but several windows were opened as residents tried to get a peek at what was going on.

"Should we tell them to stay inside and lock their windows?" Michael asked.

Faith hesitated a moment before saying, "No. If someone comes outside, we'll tell them, but I don't want to alert our suspect. He kills with a knife, not a gun, so I don't think we have to worry about collateral damage."

"We carry guns," Michael reminded her.

"Then we'll have to use them with care. Hopefully not at all. We'll have Turk take the guy down. We shoot only to save Turk's life or the life of a potential victim."

"What about our own lives?"

Faith glared at him. "Now's not the time to be cute, Michael."

"Okay. In not-cute news, Turk doesn't look so hot. Are you sure he'll be good to handle this?"

Turk shook his head from side to side and paced in a figure eight. He looked at Faith plaintively, and she said, "I know this is tough boy, but I need you to fight through it, okay? Can you push through it and find me this guy?"

Turk whined and shook his head, and Faith dropped to the ground and ruffled his fur. "You can do it, boy. You're a Marine, right?"

Turk met her eyes and dipped his head in acknowledgment. Faith smiled grimly. "Then suck it up, jarhead. Let's go get this asshole."

Turk barked and started off, trotting down the street. Faith nodded at Michael and drew her handgun, then followed her dog, Michael close behind.

Every few seconds, Turk would whine and shake his head. Faith couldn't hear the noise that caused him to react that way, but each time it came, her skin crawled, and a sense of panic slithered up her spine. Maybe she couldn't quite hear the whistle, but she could sense it somehow. If it affected her this way, she could understand how it affected their victims so much more powerfully.

Turk continued for a quarter mile down the street. When he reached a cross street, he stood in the middle of the road uncertainly for a minute, then headed right. The agents kept pace as dogs continued to howl and whine.

This was it. Faith wasn't sure how she knew it, but this was it. This was their guy. Logic told her that she had no more reason to believe that than Wanda had to believe that Clarke was their guy, but her gut told her that she had finally found her killer.

The hair stood on the back of her neck, and she spun around, gun drawn. There was no one there.

"Faith?"

She spun around again, and Michael caught her wrist before she could point her weapon at him. She reddened and said, "Sorry."

"West is not here," Michael said firmly. "He's in jail, and this guy we're after now is not on his level. You're safe."

Faith felt a rush of anger at Michael's assumption that she was thinking of West. That anger disappeared when the hair stood on the back of her neck again, and she could almost hear his taunting laughter.

I will break you.

This was her chance to prove that he hadn't broken her, that he never would. She wasn't going to let him take away her strength and self-control.

She nodded and said, "You're right. Come on, let's go."

She turned to follow Turk again. The dog had put about fifteen yards of distance between them while she and Michael dealt with her momentary panic, and they jogged to catch up.

They had just reached him when he barked and shot in between two of the houses. Faith and Michael broke into a sprint and followed him.

Turk crossed the street on the other side and shot between two more houses on the opposite side. Faith and Michael struggled to keep up, but Turk easily outpaced them. Faith nearly called for him to slow down, but she didn't want to alert their suspect. Turk was one of many barking dogs, but if the killer heard an FBI agent call to her K9 unit, he would know he was being chased.

Come on, boy, she thought silently. Go get him.

They reached the next street, and Turk stopped and howled. He put his head to the ground and started scratching his ear on the pavement. Faith didn't hear a sound so much as feel a pressure in her ears. It wasn't painful, not really, but it sent a fresh wave of anxiety through her.

They were close.

She reached Turk, who finally shook off the whistle and looked to his left down the street. He barked and shot forward.

Faith and Michael looked his direction, and Faith's eyes widened.

Ahead of them, maybe twenty-five yards away, a man stood in the shadows on the side of a house, blowing a dog whistle.

The front door opened, and a tall blonde woman stumbled onto her porch, her hands pressed to her ears.

The two agents broke into a dead run. The killer readied a long dagger, its hilt gleaming in the sunlight.

"Hey!" Faith shouted. "Stop!"

The woman on the porch shrieked in pain and fell to the porch. The killer jumped in the air and turned toward Turk, eyes wide.

"Drop the weapon!" Faith cried.

The killer looked up at Faith, then sprinted behind the house. Turk followed, barking and growling.

"Get him Turk!" Faith cried. To Michael, she said, "Go to the woman on the porch. Stay with her in case we lose the suspect and he comes back."

He nodded. "Be careful, Faith. Get that bastard."

"I will," she promised.

Then she ran after Turk.