Page 25 of So Lethal (Faith Bold #22)

Faith and Michael sat in a city park with cups of coffee and watched Turk run through the fenced off dog friendly area.

He was chasing a beautiful Cocker Spaniel, slowing so the smaller dog could feel like it was outrunning him.

The Spaniel’s owner—a kindly elderly woman with perfectly coiffed white curls—smiled at Faith.

“He’s a beautiful dog. And in great shape for his age. ”

Faith returned her smile even though she didn’t feel it. “He’s a good dog.”

Thankfully, a younger woman sat next to the Spaniel's owner and engaged her in conversation. Her daughter, apparently. Whoever she was, it meant Faith didn't have to talk to her.

Instead, she talked to Michael, keeping her voice low so they weren’t overheard. “Where do we go from here? We have nothing. We don’t even have a list of people to look for.”

Michael sipped his coffee. “I don’t know. He lifted the hand not holding his coffee cup and let it drop. “I just… don’t know.” He sighed. “I hate to say it, but unless more evidence surfaces, there might not be anything we can do.”

Her lips thinned. “Meaning we’re waiting for another dead body before we can look for a better lead.”

He didn’t reply. Which was a reply in itself.

“We don’t have anything from the police report?” Faith asked. “No evidence? No fingerprints, footprints, DNA, nothing?”

“We have footprints that match the marks from Monica Smith’s scene, but it’s to a brand and size of work boot that’s ubiquitous.

The size is small for the height of the suspect, but not so small that Ferris has been able to narrow it down that way.

” He sighed. “It’s funny. Everyone’s different until you need to rely on those differences. Then everyone’s the damned same.”

Turk barked happily and grinned over at the two of them.

A bloodhound had joined their trio, and the three dogs were playing some sort of jumping game.

Faith waved at him, then said, “This doesn’t feel like it should be the case that stumps us.

After everything we’ve done, every case we’ve solved on the back of thin evidence or leaps of intellect, this really seems like it should be open and shut. ”

“Does it really seem that way, or is it just that it’s not as weird as some of the other cases?”

She sighed. “I guess that’s it,” she admitted.

“The last crime scene got weird with the angel wings, but that was the first one. And it was really crude too, like the killer didn’t really know what he was doing.

The others were just simple strangulations.

The bodies weren’t even moved. Well, I guess Sarah was placed in her car, but that’s it. I guess it just seems so… mundane.”

Michael smiled without humor. “Would this be a bad time to point out how many ‘mundane’ cases go cold?”

“It would be a shitty time to point that out, yes.” She sipped her coffee. “Is this what ordinary detectives go through? Are we just spoiled because we get hand-delivered only the most spectacular cases?”

“If all of the detectives I talk to are to be believed, yes.”

She looked at him. “How many detectives do you talk to?”

“A few at Philadelphia PD. So not a lot, I guess, but all of them tell me I’m lucky to only work one case at a time, and that all of my cases are ‘shiny.’”

“Shiny?”

“That’s the term they used. I guess it means they all have very distinct characteristics that make it easy to follow a lead.”

“It sure doesn’t seem easy,” Faith grumbled.

He shrugged. “I mean, if you figure that most murder investigations take weeks to solve, we really do have it easy.”

“Most murder investigations don’t drop multiple victims within days of each other,” Faith countered.

“I’m not saying we have a cushy job,” Michael said. “I’m just trying to find a way to accept that this might be the first time we have to slog it out instead of just leaping across steppingstones to the answer.”

Faith set her jaw. “Well, I don’t accept that.”

“Life goes on whether you accept it or not.”

Faith felt her irritation growing. She didn’t want to fight with Michael, so she let the argument drop. “Well, it sucks.”

He lifted his coffee cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

She touched her cup to his and they sipped together.

The dogs were resting now, sitting comfortably together and panting joyfully.

The thought crossed Faith’s mind that maybe it would be all right for Turk to spend the last few years of his life like this, playing and making new friends.

She wasn’t ready to retire, but maybe it was selfish of her to expect that Turk had to work just because she wasn’t ready to stop.

That was another train of thought she didn’t want to take, so she turned back to the case, focusing on the profile of their killer.

There were really only two possibilities for motive, assuming this wasn’t a personal vendetta against people he knew. It was looking less and less likely that was the case, so it had to be either a disdain for the hearing impaired or a twisted sympathy for them.

But why these victims? That was the question they couldn’t answer yet, the most important question to answer. The killer might not have a personal vendetta, but he had to at least have known the victims somehow.

Or maybe not. He wouldn’t have to know them. He’d just have to know that they existed and that they suffered from impaired hearing. Some killers picked specific victims, but Faith had captured several who made lists and picked names off of that list.

And this killer didn’t need to make his own list. He had lists readily available to him.

She leaped to her feet. “We need to talk to Dr. Hayes again.”

Michael frowned. “Why?”

“I think I know how to find our killer. Turk! Come!”

Turk looked at Faith. He seemed disappointed to have to leave, but he didn’t hesitate, barking goodbyes to his friends, then loping back to her.

Faith half-jogged back to the car, Michael right behind her. They made the drive to the medical center in four minutes and needed only one more to run up the stairs to the fourth floor.

They nearly collided with Dr. Hayes at the door to her office. The doctor gasped and dropped the file she was holding.

“Sorry about that,” Faith said. “I need to ask you one more question.”

Dr. Hayes blinked, still startled. “Okay.”

“You said that patients usually act like their hearing loss is a tragedy, right?”

“Um… Yes, more or less.”

“Have you ever had a patient who acted like it was a blessing somehow?”

“A blessing? I don’t think so. I did have one patient who thought he was called upon by God to minister to the deaf.”

“Minister? How so?”

“He didn’t say, but I assumed he meant through religion.”

Faith shared a look with Michael. That wasn’t exactly where her mind had gone, but it might be worth following up on. “Can you tell me about him?”

Dr. Hayes glanced around. The others in the suite were staring at them. “I would prefer to talk in my office since we’ll be discussing protected health information. I really should ask for a court order, but considering the urgency, I suppose I can make an exception.”

They entered the office but remained standing.

Faith was too amped up to sit. Dr. Hayes walked behind the desk, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I really don’t understand what this could have to do with the killings,” she said.

“I would think that a murderer would be more likely to hate deaf his victims.”

“Killers come in all flavors, I’m afraid,” Faith said, “and religiously motivated ones aren’t particularly uncommon.”

Dr. Hayes grimaced. “No, I suppose not. Let’s see. This was a recent patient of mine. I saw him… five weeks ago. Captain David Harrison.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Captain?”

“Yes. He was recently discharged from the U.S. Army as a result of his accident.”

“What accident?”

"He couldn't share many details, but I know he was testing equipment. There was an accident, and he suffered a traumatic brain injury. Several different areas were damaged, but the damage to the auditory cortex was most severe. I referred him to a neurologist."

“You said he felt called by God to minister to the deaf,” Faith said. “Can you expand on that?”

Dr. Hayes removed her glasses and cleaned them with her shirt.

Her expression was vaguely disturbed. A lot of people not in Faith’s line of work had difficulty accepting the reality that they could know someone unhinged enough to murder others.

These little delays helped give them time to process that possibility.

Faith understood it, but it frustrated her to no end right now.

She had to focus on her breathing to keep from shouting at Dr. Hayes.

“He… He said that God had chosen him. He said that God was punishing him, and the only way he could atone for that punishment was to liberate others with hearing loss.”

“He used that word? Liberate?”

“He did, but… I thought…”

“None of this is your fault, Doctor,” Michael interjected, “but it’s important that you give us the whole truth right now.”

She took a deep breath and released it in a rush. “He said that he had to minister to those without sound by liberating them from a life of silence.”

Faith’s heart leaped. “One more question for you, doctor. Have any of your patient records gone missing lately?”

“No,” she replied firmly. Then her eyes slid to the left. “But… two weeks ago, there was a data breach, and… there was some indication that information had been copied from a certain insurance carrier’s medical records.”

“Were the records of the four victims among them?” Faith asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but they all had that insurance carrier.” Dr. Hayes’ lips trembled once. “So did Captain Harrison.”

That was it. This was their guy. “I need contact information for Captain Harrison,” Faith said.

Dr. Hayes nodded. Her hands were trembling when she typed the commands on her keyboard. A few seconds later, the printer started humming. Turk watched the printer, his tail switching back and forth in anticipation. When the humming stopped, he barked and looked at Faith.

Dr. Hayes handed Faith the document, avoiding her eyes. “I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“Like my partner said, it’s not your fault,” Faith said.

She left the comfort at that. They had their most solid lead of the case, and she wanted to pursue it right away. So she gave Dr. Hayes a quick thank you, then left the office.

“Should I call for backup?” Michael asked.

“Oh yeah,” Faith replied. “Tell Ferris to bring the cavalry.”

“Will do.”

Harrison’s address was in Cupertino, about halfway between their location and San Jose. They would reach it in twenty minutes. With any luck, they would find him there and put an end to his warped mission.

Captain Harrison wanted to liberate the hearing impaired by murdering them. Faith would liberate them by taking their murderer off of the streets.