Page 24

Faith paced the outside of the café. Slade sat on a bench, his open laptop resting on his thighs, his fingers continuing to fly over the keys. Turk looked back and forth between both of them, eagerly awaiting the explosion of activity he knew would come when they finally had their answer.

“There’s too many people,” Slade said. “There are entire websites full of people in the area who regret euthanizing their pets, and a lot of them are saying some heavy stuff. It’s all punishment-based too. ‘They deserve to rot in Hell’ is a disturbingly common message. We’re pretty sure our killer wants the victims to be forgiven and join the animals in Heaven.”

Faith shook her head. “Okay. So we won’t find the killer by looking for possible suspects. What about looking for the next victim?”

“Okay. How do we do that?”

“Our victims were known for end-of-life care and euthanasia. Look up best vets for end-of-life care.”

“How do I do that?”

“I don’t know. Try Google and look for a reputable-looking website that rates local veterinarians.”

Slade nodded. “Got it.” He tapped his keys for a couple of minutes, then said, “Okay. I’m on RateMyVet.com searching the top vets for hospice and end-of-life care in the Indianapolis area. It looks like our four victims are all at the top. Summers, Lee, Chen, Patel.”

“Really? One through four?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s number five?”

“Let’s see… Doctor Amanda Carpenter. She runs the Restful River Animal Hospice facility in Cumberland. That’s a suburb just east of Indianapolis.” He met Faith’s eyes. “I think that’s her.”

“And it’s after ten at night.”

A chill ran down Faith’s spine. She saw the same fear reflected on Slade’s face. Their killer could be after Dr. Carpenter right now.

“Call the facility,” Faith told Slade.

“It’s after business hours.”

“I don’t care. Someone might still be there. Call them anyway.”

“All right.” He dialed the number and waited. “Nothing. No answer.”

“Dial them again.”

Faith crossed her arms and tapped her foot while Slade held the phone to his ear. He shook his head. “Nope. No one’s home.” He paled. “You don’t think we’re too late, do you?”

“I hope not,” Faith said.

“We could look up pet cemeteries near Carpenter’s Hospice,” Slade suggested. “Maybe we can catch our killer in the act.”

Faith shook her head. “No, I’m not ready to give up on her yet. Is there a cell phone number there?”

“Not for Carpenter. Just the facility number and her private line.”

“Call her private line.”

Slade obliged. His shoulders slumped a moment later. “Straight to voicemail. Not even a dial tone.”

Faith swore. “What other numbers are there?”

“There’s a palliative care line, a hospice line, a euthanasia line, and a general reception line.”

“Try all of them. Try the euthanasia line first.”

She shivered as Slade dialed the number, not from the cold but from anxiety. Come on. Don’t be dead. Not yet. Not when we’re right here to save you.

Slade sighed. “Nothing. The place is closed, Faith. I’m sorry. We need to think about saving other people. It’s still early. We might catch the killer at the pet cemetery if we move now.”

“Try the general reception line,” Faith insisted. “Please, Slade.”

Slade sighed again, but he didn’t protest further. Faith bounced up and down on her toes, pleading silently that someone would—

“Hello?” Slade said. “Yes, hello!”

Faith leaped in the air. Coming down, she nearly slid on the icy ground, much to Turk’s consternation. He ran to steady her, and when she caught her balance, he growled at her like a parent scolding an overactive child.

“Hi. Wow. I’m so glad you answered,” Slade said. “I’m Detective Chester Slade with the Carmel Police Department. Is your facility still open?”

He put the phone on speaker so Faith could hear the answer. The man on the other end sounded a little annoyed but did a passable job of keeping professionally pleasant. “No, I’m sorry. We close at nine o’clock. If this is an emergency, you can contact the Indianapolis Animal Hospital at—”

“Different kind of emergency,” Slade interrupted. “We need to speak to Dr. Amanda Carpenter. Is she there with you?”

“No, I’m… I’m not at the Hospice.”

Slade blinked. “What? How are you answering this number?”

“This is my work cell phone number.” In an exasperated voice, he explained. “Dr. Carpenter believes that someone should always be available to provide patients and prospective patients with information on our facility and the services we provide. For some reason, she feels a receptionist is better suited to do that than the owner and administrator of the facility.”

“Do you have Dr. Carpenter’s number?”

“I do, but she won’t answer it. Trust me, I know. That’s why I was going to give you the number of the Indianapolis Animal Hospital.”

“Do you have her home address,” Slade pressed.

“Her home…” the receptionist paused, then said suspiciously, “Excuse me, who did you say you are?”

“I’m Detective Chester Slade with the Carmel Police Department. I’m here with Special Agent Faith Bold of the FBI.”

“Carmel? We’re in Cumberland, sir. This is sketchy. I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, listen!” Slade shouted. “You know all those vets who are dying? I’m investigating that case.”

There was a slight pause, then a wary, “Okay?”

“Look, we need to contact her now . Her life is in immediate danger.”

Another slight pause, then. “Oh, shit. Um… shit. Look, she won’t answer her phone. I’ll give you the number if you want, but she won’t even check texts until the morning. That’s probably why she’s number five and not number one on that list.”

“Focus!” Slade snapped.

“Right. Shit. Sorry. Um… Okay, she’s probably still at the hospital.”

“This late? You’re sure?”

“Yes. She doesn’t like going home right away because her husband doesn’t like movies and gives her shit for eating ice cream. I guess he’s really into skinny women, so he gets grouchy that she’s not a stick figure like she was when they were married. They’ve been having problems for a while, and—”

“Okay, so she’s at the hospital until what time?” Slade interrupted.

“Umm… she usually watches a movie and eats ice cream. Sometimes she drinks a glass of wine too. If she drinks, she’ll be there until after midnight. If not, then she could be on her way home already. Probably not, though. I’m thinking she’s still at the hospital.”

“We’ll go to the hospital,” Faith told Slade. “Send units to her house. You, on the phone.”

“Danny.”

“Danny, give Detective Slade Dr. Carpenter’s address and personal phone number. Slade, give him your phone number and mine. When we hang up, Danny, call and text Dr. Carpenter. Tell her what we told you, give her our numbers and tell her to call us.”

“Okay. Um… okay.”

“Slade, give me the keys.”

Slade’s brow furrowed, but to his credit, he didn’t balk. Faith tossed the keys out of the air and sprinted for the car. Turk followed, barking for her to slow down and be careful. Instead, she slid the last three yards and slammed into the car hard enough to leave bruises on her legs.

Turk gave a resigned bark and checked on her. Faith ruffled his fur quickly and opened the door for him to get inside. The roads were icy, but Faith was used to driving quickly on ice. She couldn’t move that quickly, but she would probably move more quickly than Slade would.

She pulled up to the café, and Slade climbed into the passenger seat. “Okay. We’re going to take the four-sixty-five south to… Jesus!”

He gripped the grab handle and pressed his left hand on the dash as the cruiser spun around and accelerated toward the road. The rear wheels fishtailed dangerously when Faith turned out of the parking lot, but she feathered the accelerator, and the wheels found their traction a moment later.

“Does this cruiser have winter tires?” Faith asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Studded?”

“Um… no, but—”

“That’s all right. I’ll make it work.”

“Are you kidding? Faith!”

He cried out again as she drifted onto the freeway. The freeway was less icy than the surface streets, but there was still a dusting of snow, and the cruiser flinched and slid slightly as she headed south toward Cumberland.

“Faith, if you get us killed on the way there, we won’t be able to help anyone,” Slade reminded her, struggling to control his voice.”

“I’m well aware of that fact,” Faith said. “Trust me. I’ve done this…”

She paused to navigate a particularly perilous stretch of snow that tried to turn the cruiser sideways. Once they were straightened out, she finished. “I’ve done this before.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Then deal with feeling like crap for a while,” Faith retorted. “We’re twenty minutes from Cumberland, and Carpenter’s vulnerable.”

“Yeah, I know. Just please don’t kill us, okay?”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, telling me not to worry isn’t going to make me not worry.”

“Well, then worry quietly.”

He glared at her. “Your partner must love you.”

“He used to.” Slade raised his eyebrow, and Faith quickly changed the subject. “Call Dr. Carpenter again. Keep calling her until she answers.”

Slade dialed the number, and Faith counted the minutes. Hang in there, Dr. Carpenter. We’re on our way to rescue you.

The thought came to her that the killer could be saying the same thing. He or she was convinced that this was the only way to rescue the victims’ souls. It disturbed Faith to know that she and a serial killer could be having the same thought at the same time about the same person.

Drastically different means of achieving that goal, though .

They reached the Cumberland exit eleven minutes after getting onto the freeway. Faith looked ahead at the exit and saw that it was clear of traffic. “Fair warning, Slade. You’re going to hate this.”

“Hate what? Oh my God !”

Faith twisted the wheel and feathered the brakes, drifting down the ramp. Snow and dust plumed behind the cruiser as she spun the tires, using the centrifugal force of the drift to propel them forward when they exited the ramp.

The Hospice facility was three miles up the road. Even driving at this pace, it would take five minutes to cover that distance. She wasn’t comfortable driving faster than this.

Slade wasn’t comfortable either. His eyes were closed, and his hands trembled as he gripped the handle and mouthed words that Faith guessed were prayers. It was a good thing she had chosen to drive. He wouldn’t be brave enough to do it himself.

The minutes passed with aching slowness. Faith watched the road drift lazily by and wished to hell this was summer when she could have burnt rubber and reached the hospital in no time. When she finally pulled into the parking lot, she didn’t bother trying to park in a space or on a curb. She just let the cruiser stop where it wanted to and set the brake.

She switched on the lights, and the three of them got out of the car and rushed into the hospital. Turk began to bark immediately when the door opened. He jetted ahead, Faith and Slade close behind, weapons drawn.

“Dr. Carpenter!” Faith shouted. “Amanda Carpenter!”

She heard a cry from the room ahead just before Turk burst through the door. The two human investigators sprinted forward.

Faith entered the room to see Turk standing in front of a terrified looking woman in a white lab coat. A pint of ice cream and a bottle of white wine sat on an end table next to a sofa. A fifty-inch television hanging from the wall was playing a movie about a woman who left her husband for a childhood sweetheart.

“What the hell?” the woman cried out. “What is going on?”

Turk whined and looked around, dipping his head from side to side. He fixed on the doctor and barked in alarm.

A hand shot out from behind Carpenter, seemingly out of nowhere. Faith shouted for Carpenter to move, but she knew it was too late. She was about to watch Carpenter die right in front of her.