Page 27 of So Lethal (Faith Bold #22)

The FBI agents arrived at David Harrison's house just as Ferris and his PD units did. Michael parked their rental behind the cruisers, so the police vehicles formed a barricade. Then, the three of them rushed across the street to join Ferris.

The detective was issuing commands to his officers when they reached him. “Cooper, take four out back and put two men on either side. I’ll go through the front with the FBI agents.” He nodded at Faith. “All right, Special Agent. This is your collar. We’ll follow your lead.”

Right after giving all of the orders, Faith thought wryly. Ferris meant well, though, and Faith would have issued similar instructions anyway.

“Be alert,” she told the gathered officers.

“Harrison has combat experience, and he’s believed to be armed and dangerous.

No one does anything stupid trying to be the hero of the day, got it?

” The officers voiced their acknowledgment, and Faith said, “Okay. Cooper, once you’re in position, let us know.

We’ll try knocking. He’s deaf, but he should still feel the vibrations.

We’ll give him one chance, then we’re going in. Let’s move out.”

The group split. The SJPD officers looked professional and determined. Most importantly, they looked steady. Self-control and unit cohesion were the two most critical components of arrests like this one, and Ferris’s officers had both.

Faith positioned herself to the left of the door. Michael stood to the right with Ferris off of the porch steps to the right as well. Turk stood in front of the door, eyes focused, tail switching, muscles coiled like springs.

“Okay, agent,” Cooper said. “We’re ready.”

“Copy that.” She pounded her fist on the door. For the benefit of anyone in the vicinity who might not know what was going on, she also shouted, “David Harrison! This is the police! Open the door now!”

No answer. Faith pounded again, called again, and when there was still no answer, she said into her radio. “We’re going in. Breach in three”—Michael positioned himself in front of the door—“two”—he holstered his weapon and spread his feet shoulder-width apart—“one!”

Michael kicked in the door with a grunt of effort. Instantly, Turk shot through the opening, barking and snarling. Ferris and the agents followed, guns drawn. Another crashing noise sounded as Cooper broke through the back door.

The lights in the house were off, but enough daylight filtered through the windows that they could see well enough. There was no sign of anyone in the living room, confirmed a moment later when Ferris called, “Clear!” He looked at Faith. “Should we go upstairs and leave the first floor to Cooper.”

Faith nodded. Ferris issued the command while she, Michael, and Turk scaled the stairs to the second floor.

Once more, Turk was the first one up, growling and barking as he moved in and out of the rooms. Faith listened for the cry that would tell him Turk had found his target.

Even if David was death, he would still make noise if he was bit.

No noises came. One by one, they cleared the rooms upstairs.

Faith’s excitement turned to fear. He wasn’t home.

That’s okay. He could be at work or at the grocery store or at a restaurant. Don’t freak out yet.

“He’s not in the house,” Ferris said.

Faith sighed. “Yeah. I figured. Do we have an APB out on his vehicle?”

“We do. Red mid-2000s Lincoln Navigator with a chrome trailer hitch, license plate 6TGY774. Nothing’s popped up so far.”

She nodded and tried not to let frustration and disappointment get to her. You’ve been here before. He’ll turn up. They always do.

She responded to herself with, yeah, but will he turn up alone or with a dead body?

“Make sure that APB is high priority. Michael, do we have a workplace for him?”

“Negative. Looks like he’s been living off of his Army disability pay and veteran stipend since the accident.”

Faith sighed. “Okay. Ferris, let’s stay here, but let’s have cruisers parked at the street corners on either side of the house. If he sees us here, he’s going to run, so I want to see him first and pursue as soon as possible after that happens.”

“On it. Don’t worry, Agent. This kind of shit happens all the time. He’s gonna turn up eventually.”

Faith nodded meanwhile her mind came up with every possible scenario where he didn’t turn up.

The vehicle could be found, but he could have ditched it and stolen another.

He could have a friend they don’t know about and live in his basement until his beard and hair grew out. He could be halfway to Mexico.

“Call customs and border patrol,” Faith told Michael. “Give them Harrison’s description. Just in case.”

“I’ll loop TSA into that as well,” Michael said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He started dialing, then slumped. “Shit. You don’t think he bolted after you almost caught him, do you?”

The blood drained from Faith’s face. She hadn’t considered that until just now.

She lifted her hands to the top of her head. “Shit.” She took a breath to steady herself, then said, “Just get the word out. We’ll have to hope he’s popped on someone’s radar somewhere, and we can go from there.”

“I’ll loop the San Francisco field office in then,” Michael replied. “In case he’s crossing state lines but not national borders.”

In case he’s stupid, in other words.

Faith shook her head and headed downstairs. Turk trotted next to her, watching her closely in case he needed to step in to calm her down. Cooper and his men were standing around, their focus replaced with the alert relaxation that Faith thought of as “cop standby.”

“Cooper, we’re making this our base of operations,” she told him.

His eyes widened. “We can do that?”

“The FBI can when hunting serial killers. We just can’t sleep here. That’s how we get around the Fourth Amendment.”

She saw something on the coffee table and did a double take. “Actually, scratch that. We now have some very good probable cause.”

She walked closer and picked up the photograph on the table. It was a picture of Monica Smith standing in the yard of her studio. Faith looked back at the coffee table but saw no other pictures. The killer had probably cleared the evidence from his home and accidentally left this one behind.

She started up the stairs again, nearly colliding with Michael. He flinched and said, “Upstairs or downstairs? Make up your mind.”

“Upstairs. I want the house scoured, starting with the bedroom. I want to know where he went.”

“No way we find anything,” Michael said.

“Fix that attitude,” she snapped. “We never know until we look.”

“I’m gonna look,” he replied, “I’m just pissed.”

She sighed. “I know. Me too. But we don’t stop. We keep going until we get him, no matter what.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

The two of them returned to the bedroom and started digging through Harrison’s belongings.

Turk helped, sniffing through everything, but he didn’t turn up any more evidence than they did.

The home’s other bedroom yielded nothing important either, and the living room provided only the photograph Faith had already found.

By the time they finished searching the house, they had found nothing that might indicate where David Harrison had gone, and they had wasted an hour of time not finding anything.

Faith sighed and sat at the kitchen table, drumming her teeth on the oiled pine and trying to think where to go from here. Waiting was unacceptable to her.

Of course, she’d learned recently that it didn’t matter whether waiting was acceptable or not. Sometimes she just had to deal with it.

Her fists closed at that thought. Screw that! I’m not going to “deal” with murderers escaping.

She got to her feet and started pacing. Where would Harrison go to hide?

He was a former equipment tester for the Army. She had seen the display case above his dresser, so she knew he was proud of his service. If he was going to go somewhere, it would probably be with one of his friends from the Army.

“Michael, do we know what unit Harrison served in?”

“Not from his medical record, but I can probably find out.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed the number.

As he talked, Faith second-guessed her initial conclusion.

Soldiers were loyal to their own just like Marines, but that loyalty had limits.

Harrison could probably get by with no questions asked for a short while, but eventually, the news would get out that he was on the run.

His friends would want to know the truth, and what could he tell them?

A lie, maybe, but that wouldn’t hold water for long.

Best case scenario, he’d be booted out and allowed to leave without the friend ratting him to the cops.

That would leave him right back at square one.

Harrison clearly lived alone and had lived alone since leaving the Army.

He was comfortable by himself. With his hearing gone, he was probably more comfortable by himself than with others.

He would want to go somewhere he felt comfortable holing up by himself.

“Fine,” Michael snapped, loudly enough to pull Faith’s attention to him.

“Sounds good to me. We’ll be more than happy to tell the entire world that you’re protecting a serial killer to hide secrets.

Considering current opinions on military secrets, I’m sure that press will be just great for the Army. ”

“What’s wrong?” Faith asked. “They won’t tell you where served?”

Michael held up a finger and winked. “All right, we’re done here.

Oh.” He grinned and winked again. “General. Yeah, I don’t give a shit.

He’s a suspected killer. I need every byte of data on him, or I will personally blame the Army for his existence.

I’m good on the news too, General. I look real pretty on camera. Oh, you can help me? Wonderful.”

He covered the phone and said, “You just gotta know how to talk to ‘em.”

Faith wasn’t sure that Michael’s approach was necessary, but it had worked, so she wasn’t complaining.

A moment later, Michael said. “Five-oh-ninth Infantry Company. And that’s a testing unit?

Equipment testing, got it.” He frowned. “No, that isn’t all you’re going to tell me.

He’s on the run, and we think he’s hiding with friends. ”

Faith snapped her fingers. “Here,” Michael said. “Let me hand you to my partner.”

Faith took the phone. A rough male voice informed her, “Your partner is an asshole.”

“He sure can be,” Faith agreed, “but I’m not.

I’m a very concerned investigator who’s trying to bring justice to the loved ones of four innocent people who Captain Harrison may have murdered.

I believe he’s going to hide somewhere important to the five-oh-ninth, not at a friend’s house.

I think it will be an abandoned classified facility where he can be reasonably sure he won’t be looked for.

Is there anything in the rive-oh-ninth’s history that might fit that bill? ”

The general was silent for a moment. Then he sighed.

“Shit. Yeah, there might be. We had a testing facility on the north side of Mount Hamilton. It’s just east of San Jose.

We shut the facility down after Harrison’s accident.

I’m technically committing treason by telling you this, but we didn’t test anything black out there, just some less lethal stuff for crowd dispersal. ”

“Less lethal stuff like an acoustic weapon?” Faith asked.

“Yes,” the general admitted. “But you need to keep that out of your official reports. You found him at an old storage depot that we haven’t used in years. Got that?”

“I got it.”

“I mean it, agent. I’m trying to help, but if this comes back to bite me, I’ll make damned sure it bites you, too.”

“It will bite no one but David Harrison, sir. You have my word.”

“Good. Here are those coordinates.”

Faith wrote down the coordinates and thanked the general.

He hung up, and Faith pulled her radio out.

"Everyone, listen up. We have a possible location for David Harrison.

I want two people at the house, just in case.

Everyone else, we're on our way to the following location.

" She read the coordinates, and the officers cheered.

"Okay," Faith said. "Let's go catch a bad guy. "