Page 42 of So Silent

“The victim’s name is Jessica Peters,” Wanda said. “Thirty-three. Ran a dog school in Tacoma. Came home last night about seven or so. Time of death will have to be confirmed by the coroner, but she’s in her PJs, and there’s dirty dinner dishes in the sink. Her hair looks like it was clean before it fell into a pool of her own blood, so I'm thinking she showered too. Best guess, she died around nine or ten o'clock."

Faith’s hands slowly clenched into fists. That meant Jessica might have been killed less than an hour ago. Maybe while she was on the phone with David. Obviously, it wasn't her fault that she was on the phone with David when Jessica was murdered, but knowing that a woman was being murdered by the killer she was trying to find while she was on the phone talking with her boyfriend infuriated her. It was almost as though he was taunting her.

She knew that couldn't possibly be true, but knowing that didn't do anything to help her emotions.

It’s not about you, she thought, recalling David’s words. Don’t focus on yourself.

“Did Jessica have exceptional hearing as well?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Wanda replied. “Do you want me to find out?”

“I do. Michael?” Michael lifted his head up from the other end of the garage. “Take a couple of officers and look for signs of a break-in. I want to figure out how he got in. If we know how he got in, we might be able to trace his movements backwards from the murder and find more clues.”

“Got it.”

Michael patted a couple uniforms on the shoulder and quickly issued instructions. Faith looked at Turk, who was carefully sniffing Jessica’s body to look for anything familiar. A moment later, he barked and looked at Faith.

“Find something, boy?”

Turk dipped his head and whined irritably. Faith chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah, I’m upset too. Keep looking. We’ll get this guy.”

Turk put his nose to the ground and began searching for signs of their killer. Faith walked up the stairs into the house and tried to piece together the last moments of Jessica’s life.

She was still in her PJs. She had her keys, her phone, and her purse, but she hadn’t changed. She was still wearing her bunny slippers.

Faith would have said was scared and was making a run for it, but there were no defensive wounds, and if she was frightened for her life, she would probably have left the purse and maybe even the phone. Or she would have run out the front door and screamed for help.

The screaming was actually what had led the police hear. A neighbor reported a scream of rage coming from Jessica’s house.

That was new. Had the killer screamed at Jessica, or had Jessica screamed because of something that angered her?

What would have angered her enough to grab her purse, phone and keys but not change before leaving… where?

Faith walked into the living room and saw the couch cushions on the floor. One of them rested on the coffee table, and the other was on the hearth. A throw pillow was a few feet away in the dining room.

That tracked with the report of a scream of rage, but there was no sign of a struggle. Nothing was broken, and there was no blood anywhere but right where she dropped, just like with the other victims.

Faith began to have a picture of what happened. Jessica was upset about something, and she had either torn up the couch over it, or she had torn up the couch to try to solve a problem, and when that didn’t work, she had tossed the cushions away in a rage.

What problem would couch cushions solve, though?

That question was easy enough to answer. People put pillows over their ears to muffle loud sounds. The pillow hadn’t been enough, so Jessica had tried the couch cushions. That still wasn’t enough, so scream of rage and let’s get out of here.

And the killer had been waiting for her in the garage.

How had he made it there without being noticed? Had he broken in earlier and lain in wait?

“You were right,” Wanda said, walking into the living room. “Sensitive hearing. Specifically hyperacusis and secondary tinnitus. Anything louder than a ceiling fan was like an icepick in our girl’s head. She had prescription hearing implants designed to mute high-pitched sounds.”

“It didn’t mute this sound,” Faith replied.

“Well, they were designed to mute high-pitched sounds that humans can hear. I’m guessing they didn’t think about sounds humans aren’t supposed to hear.”

Faith nodded. “So the killer used a dog whistle, and it rode over the hearing implant and sent her into a frenzy. She panicked and decided she had to get out of here, so she grabbed her keys, phone and purse and made a break for it, only to get stabbed to death as she stepped into the garage.”

“Yep. Now we just need to find out how he got in.”

Michael walked into the room from the back. His expression was grim, and when Faith asked, “Did you find something?” he sighed and shook his head.

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