Page 15 of So Lethal (Faith Bold #22)

The next morning found Faith refreshed and able to think more clearly. She didn’t like that they were back to square one, but that was where they were, and Faith needed to deal with it. That meant going back to good old-fashioned police work.

To that end, the two of them were interviewing the other members of Sarah Martinez’s support group.

Beth Rosenberg had volunteered to attend as an interpreter.

That required them to clear her completely as a suspect, easily done when she proved she was out of state the night of James Porter’s murder.

Their first several interviews went much like the interview with Beth the night before. Sarah was polite but aloof. She didn’t seem to really be looking for healing. She clung tightly to bitterness. A few other responses that said pretty much the same thing.

Faith noted with some irritation that most of the respondents were sorrier for Sarah’s sister than for Sarah herself.

Obviously Faith felt bad too, but it wasn’t just Sarah’s sister that had suffered.

Sarah had lost her life. Sure, she was having a harder time than the others were, but it bothered Faith that they had just written her off so easily because she wasn’t as eager to heal as they were.

Faith didn’t know if she was justified feeling that way, but it was how she felt.

By lunchtime, they had worked their way through eight of the twelve members of the group. They took a break to eat sub sandwiches catered by a local shop that donated regularly to the community center.

“I’m not sure exactly what you’re hoping to learn,” Beth said. “I don’t think anyone here could possibly be involved in this.”

“We don’t either,” Faith replied. “But we think the killer is targeting deaf people.”

“Well, Sarah wasn’t deaf,” Beth clarified. “Deaf people are born without the ability to hear. Sarah had hearing loss.”

“I don’t think the killer would make that distinction,” Faith said.

Beth’s brow furrowed. Then her eyes widened. “Those other two people—Monica and John.”

“James,” Michael corrected.

“Right. Those are other victims, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Faith said. “We’re trying to keep this case low-profile right now, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t spread that news. But yes, we believe that there’s a serial killer targeting deaf people in the Bay Area.”

Beth’s hand came to her mouth. “Oh my God. That’s horrible.”

“Yes,” Faith agreed. “It is. We’re still not sure how this killer is selecting his or her victims, but it could be that the others in your support group have interacted with or seen the killer at some point.”

“Oh my God,” she repeated. “Are they in danger?”

“It’s hard to say,” Faith replied. “The victims were killed at distant locations from each other. Still in the Bay Area, but…” She stopped herself. She had already shared more about the case than was prudent. “Anyway, we’re trying to see if anyone noticed something or someone suspicious.”

“Oh my God,” Beth breathed a third time. “I just can’t… Why are some people so evil ?”

Faith smiled grimly. “I’ve had this job for over twelve years, and I still don’t know the answer to that question.”

“They don’t always see it as evil,” Michael offered.

“In a lot of cases, serial killers manage to convince themselves that what they’re doing is good.

Sometimes it’s due to mental illness, and sometimes it’s just an incredibly powerful ability to justify bad behavior, but…

” His voice trailed off when he saw Beth’s expression.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, we should get back to the interviews.”

The group returned to the conference room. Beth left to bring in the next interviewee, and Faith scolded Michael. “Way to make it worse, dummy.”

“Hey, you started all of that,” he retorted.

She glared at him for a moment, but he was right. “Yeah. I guess I did.” She shook her head. “We should learn ASL. There are too many hearing-impaired people in America for us not to know how to communicate with them.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Michael said. “If we can ever find the time.”

“What are you talking about? We have a lot of free time.”

“No, you have a lot of free time because you have a very kind partner who’s willing to do almost all of the paperwork for you,” Michael replied. “ I do not have nearly the same free time.”

She rolled her eyes, but once again, Michael was right. If she had a weakness as an agent, it was her contempt for paperwork. She really appreciated that Michael was willing to handle as much of it as he could.

"So, do you think this killer is evil?" Michael asked.

She frowned. “Do you think he isn’t?”

“I’ll rephrase. Do you think he knows that what he’s doing is wrong, or do you think he’s convinced himself that it’s right?”

She shook her head. “I think both are possible. But if you’re asking me to build a profile, I’d have to say I’m not sure.

I still don’t buy that these victims are only connected because they’re deaf.

They’re too far apart for that to be the only connection.

There’s a reason why it’s these specific targets.

Hell, we’re talking to eleven other hearing-impaired people today. Why did he choose Sarah?”

“She was aloof from the group and she parked on the tenth floor even when it was empty.”

She frowned. “Well, shit. So much for that.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arm.

“I just don’t buy it, though. One victim in San Jose, one in San Francisco, and one in Fremont.

He can’t just randomly happen to be in all of those places at different times and randomly stumble across deaf people in each location. ”

“To be fair, Sarah Martinez lived in Fremont but was killed in San Jose,” Michael clarified.

“Fair enough,” she allowed. “Either way, he picked these particular victims. Even if he just wanted one of the people from this support group, he still picked this support group. I want to know why.”

The door opened, and Beth led a short, bespectacled man with a ring of dark brown hair circling a shiny bald pate. Faith would have to save brainstorming for later.

“Hello,” she told the man. “I’m Special Agent Faith Bold, this is my partner Special Agent Michael Prince and my K9 unit, Turk.”

Turk barked a greeting. A touch of grief crossed the man’s face. He signed something, and Beth interpreted. “His name is Ethan. He says he misses hearing his dog bark.”

Faith offered a sympathetic smile. Turk sidled up to the man and laid his head in his lap. Ethan sighed and signed something else. “He says he’s sorry to hear about Sarah. He was afraid something like this would happen.”

Faith’s smile vanished. “Why would you say that?”

Ethan frowned and answered through Beth. “I thought she killed herself. It wasn’t suicide?”

“No,” Faith replied. “She was murdered.”

Ethan’s jaw went slack. He shivered and signed rapidly. “I didn’t know that. I thought for sure she had taken her own life. Murdered? God, that’s horrible! Her poor sister.”

“Why did you think she killed herself?” Faith pressed. “Did she seem suicidal to you?”

“Oh yes,” Ethan signed back. “Especially after her fight with…”

Beth blinked. “Oh… I didn’t know about that.”

“Know about what?” Faith demanded. “What did he say?”

“He said that she got into a fight with Marcus.”

“Who’s Marcus?”

“He was one of the other students here. I had to kick him out after week five because he was being belligerent with me. He was surly with other students too.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?” Faith snapped.

Beth paled. “I… I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t believe that he’d do something like this . And I didn’t know that he had argued with Sarah.”

Faith sighed. “What’s his last name?”

“Wolfe with an e.”

“W-O-L-F-E?”

“Yes.”

Faith turned to Michael. “Find him. Beth, give him any contact information you have.”

“I deleted his number from my phone after I kicked him out, but St. Teresa’s might still have it.”

“I’ll call them,” Michael said.

He got to his feet and walked to the back of the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did. Faith turned back to Ethan. “Tell me about this fight.”

Ethan began to sign rapidly again. Beth translated, her voice shaky.

“After the week three meeting—I was home sick that week, so they had a different moderator—Marcus approached Sarah and started yelling at her. He was drunk, and he accused her of being a privileged b-word. Sarah was upset by that, of course, and asked him why he said that. He went on a long rant about Sarah having it easy because she was rich, how she could probably get her hearing fixed by paying the doctors a lot of money when his insurance wouldn’t even cover the cost of a cochlear implant.

She told him to go eff himself, and he tried to slap her, but a couple of the other men intervened. ”

“And the guest host didn’t tell you about this?” Faith asked Beth.

“No. I’m just finding out about it now.”

She signed something to Ethan, who signed back and then lifted his hands.

“Have this conversation later,” Faith said. “Ethan, were there any other interactions between Sarah and Marcus?”

“No,” Ethan signed. “They ignored each other the next two sessions, and then Marcus was gone.”

“And no one at any time thought it would be a good idea to tell someone that a belligerent drunk had argued with and tried to assault Sarah?”

Ethan reddened and lowered his eyes. “We wanted Marcus to get help. We all felt bad for him. He was struggling more than any of us.”

Faith had to take a moment to calm down. Of course, they would sympathize with Marcus but not with the woman he assaulted. How did people make decisions about who they cared about and who they didn't care about? Was it really just because Sarah was rich and Marcus wasn't?

“Do you really think Marcus killed her?” Ethan asked.

Faith didn’t answer that question. “Thank you, Ethan. That’s all we need.” She handed him a card. “If you think of anything else, call me and let me know.”

“Do you have TTY?” Beth explained, “That’s a teletype machine. Hearing-impaired people use it to communicate.”

“The Philadelphia Field Office does,” Faith replied. “That’s the office number. I’ll let them know to keep an eye out and contact me if they get anything.”

Ethan nodded and got to his feet. “I hope you find whoever killed Sarah,” he signed. “She was a good woman. She didn’t deserve that.”

Faith’s anger softened a touch. At the end of the day, Ethan was only a civilian. Civilians weren’t supposed to be able to think like investigators. “We will. I promise.”

Ethan smiled and gave Turk one last pat before leaving the room. When he was gone, Faith turned to Beth. “We don’t need to talk to anyone else right now. Keep your phone on, though. We might need more help.”

“All right. I’m sorry. I never would have thought that Marcus could do something like this.”

“We’re still not sure that he did,” Faith replied. “Focus on your surviving students for now. Let us handle the hunt for Sarah’s killer.”

“Okay. Thank you both. I’m glad someone’s speaking for Sarah. No one should have to die alone like that.”

Faith thought of Gordon Clark and Grant Monroe, friends and mentors of hers, both murdered alone by serial killers obsessed with her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said, "Have a good day, Beth. At the very least, have a better one than yesterday."

Beth chuckled and wiped tears from her eyes. “I will. Thank you again.”

Michael approached Faith after Beth left. “I’ve got an address for Wolfe.”

“Good. Let’s go see what he has to say for himself.”

As they left the community center, Faith wondered how many killers got away with murder just because the thought of murder was unfathomable to most people.

How many people had looked at Ted Bundy and assumed that there was no way such a charming and handsome man could be responsible for cutting women to pieces with a hacksaw?

How many people believed that Richard Ramirez was just a weird, angry guy and never considered how deep his depravity actually ran?

How many people looked at Franklin West and saw only a psychologist in a turtleneck? It wasn’t healthy to assume that anyone around you could be a serial killer, but it was true.

Sometimes Faith wondered if anyone was ever truly safe, or if they were only lucky that the predator’s eyes were aimed elsewhere.