Page 52 of So Twisted

“What do you see, Turk?”

Turk looked back at her. He looked so confused. Her heart sank even further.Come on, boy. Please don’t fall apart on me.

She sighed and called him to her.

Turk lowered his eyes, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked ashamed. When he reached her, she ruffled his fur. “It’s okay, Turk. You’ll find him.”

And for the first time since she’d known him, she wasn’t sure she believed that.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The scene was every bit as gruesome as Detective Cuthbert described. Maybe it wasn’t as gruesome as Marcus Reeves’ torn throat, but Faith didn’t have to see that face to face. She was staring at an exploded eyeball dripping down Dr. Clement’s left cheek right now, and that was among the worst things she had ever seen at a crime scene.

“How long would it take to do something like this?” Faith asked.

"There aren't any hooks here," Cuthbert replied, "so that means he carried them out with him. That means that he probably held a few in each hand and twisted them to look like bird talons squeezing. Didn't do a very good job, but that's par for the course. He's the most incompetent murderer I've ever seen, who is somehow also freaking impossible to find."

“We need to figure out if any other researchers were caught up in the backlash when Dr. Clement went off the rails,” Michael said. “Then see if any of them knew our other victims.”

“That doesn’t seem likely,” Cuthbert said. “I mean, I’ll look into it, but the difference between Dr. Clement and Alison Chen is the same as the difference between me and a mental patient who thinks they’re Sherlock Holmes.” He looked back at the body. “Although I guess Dr. Clement was flirting with insanity herself.”

A thought occurred to Faith. “I agree with Michael. We should look into other wildlife researchers, particularly animal behaviorists.”

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise. He clearly didn’t expect Faith to agree with him. Cuthbert seemed surprised as well. He raised an eyebrow and said, “You guys are the serial killer experts. Tell me what I’m missing here.”

“I think our killer might be trying to modify human behavior the way Dr. Clement was trying to modify animal behavior. He’s killing his victims using the tools of the animals they worked closely with to send a message to others that abusing animals will only hurt us in the end.”

Clement still wasn’t convinced. “I mean… I see where you’re going with that, but you can’t really modify someone’s behavior when you’ve killed them. And these are not accidents. He has very much killed all four of these people.”

“Yes,” Faith agreed, “and I don’t think you can modify eagle behavior by shocking them until they learn to avoid pooping on cars and eating people’s pet cats. But if Dr. Clement was loopy enough to think she could, then maybe our killer is loopy enough to think that he’ll make a difference in the world by killing people who don’t behave the way he thinks they should.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve met a killer who thought that way,” Michael added.

Cuthbert shrugged. “Well, like I said, you guys are the serial killer experts. Council Bluffs isn’t exactly the murder capital of America, so I’ll admit I’m a little bit a lot out of my depth. I’ll go read some news articles.”

He turned to leave, pausing when he saw Turk sniffing carefully up and down the gate that led to the yard outside. He wisely kept whatever thoughts the sight gave him to himself.

When he was gone, Michael cleared his throat. “Listen, Faith. I’m sorry about—”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Faith said curtly, “and sorry won’t even be close to good enough.”

Michael lowered his head and didn’t reply. Faith looked down at her body and said, “See if you can figure out how this went down: how the killer entered, how he approached Dr. Clement, if she fought back, and so forth. Maybe we’ll gain some insight into the killer’s MO.”

“Sure. You got it.”

Faith left him and walked to Turk. “Hey, buddy.”

Turk looked at her and shook his head, groaning in frustration. Faith squatted beside him and stroked his fur. “It’s okay, buddy,” she said, fighting another lump forming in her throat. “You’re doing your best. You’re a good boy.”

Turk looked back at the fence and cautiously resumed his inspection. “Did you find something, boy?” she asked, hoping against hope that there might be some sort of logical explanation for his behavior.

Turk looked at her, then back at the fence. Finally, he snorted and dipped his head, then moved deeper into the aviary. Faith stayed where she was and watched him walk away. She lowered her eyes and stared at his pawprint in the dirt in between a couple of shrubs.

She had fought so hard to get his retirement postponed. She had gone to bat for him against three members of the Bureau so high-ranking that even the Boss was intimidated by them. All of that, and barely a month later, Turk was already nearing the end. She thought she would get at least a few more years with him. At least two.

You’re going to have to let him go someday, Faith.

The voice in her conscience was that of Supervisory Special Agent Gordon Clark, an old friend and mentor of hers who was one of Franklin West’s last victims before Faith discovered his identity as the Copycat Killer and drove him out of Philadelphia. Faith hadn’t thought about him in a while. Maybe it was because West had killed him to get her attention, and now the Messenger was out there killing people to get her attention.

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