Page 26 of So Wicked

Faith turned to the detective to see a hard expression. He must have known the answer to that question too.

Jack tapped the table and stared at the detective. Anger replaced his anxiety, and his voice was steady when he said, “I told her that I would catch her alone one day, and that I would kill her and bury her with the animals she’s killed so their souls could torture hers for all of eternity. And you know what? I’m glad she’s dead. I hope those animals are torturing her. I hope Shooter spends all of time biting her bitch face off.”

Faith and Slade shared a look. Jack gestured at Turk and said, “Imagine if your dog died because a vet fucked up. Imagine you take him to someone you trust to take care of him, and when you arrive to pick him up, you find out that they killed him instead of taking care of him. How would you feel?”

"I understand how you feel, Jack. If that's the reason you killed them, then I get it."

“I didn’t kill her.” He frowned. “Wait, you said them? Oh, that’s right, there was that other vet too, the uh... what was her name?"

Faith frowned. “Dr. Rachel Summers.”

“Right. Yeah, I don’t know her. Didn’t know her. Did she work at the clinic too?”

Faith’s frown deepened. She had made a career out of reading criminals, and Jack looked very sincerely unaware of who Dr. Summers was. “No, she had a practice at Carmel-Westfield Animal Medical Center.”

“Huh. I don’t know where that is. You think the same person killed both people?”

“Weknowit,” Slade said.

He remained stern, but Faith could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He wasn’t sure that Jack was guilty anymore either.

She folded her arms and leaned forward. “Jack, can you account for your whereabouts last night?”

His eyes shifted to the left, a common physiological tell that a person was about to lie. “I was at work.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Jack stiffened and blinked. He watched Faith’s face shrewdly, then apparently decided she was bluffing. “Yes, I was.”

“Where do you work?”

He frowned. “Why does it matter?”

“So we can verify your alibi. If you can prove to us that you were at work when Dr. Patel was murdered, then you can’t be our killer, and we’ll release you.”

His frown deepened. "You know what? Fuck it. I hated the bitch. I wanted her dead. If I could have killed her, I would have. Shooter's gone. I have nightmares every goddamned night, and they're getting worse. You want to pin this on me? Sure. I killed her."

“You work for Red Racer Auto Body?” Slade asked.

Jack blinked, genuinely surprised. “How’d you figure that out?”

"You listed it as your place of employment when you brought Shooter to the emergency clinic. They gave it to us as part of your contact information. I'm going to call them Jack. If they tell me you weren't at work last night, then it's going to look very bad for you."

“Go ahead. I already told you you can pin it on me.”

Faith leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips. Jack was a good lead if Patel was the only victim, but he didn’t seem to know anything about Rachel Summers at all. He could be lying about that, but…

“Jack, if you’re the killer, then we’d appreciate a clear confession so we know to stop looking. If you’re not the killer, then I have something for you to consider. Dr. Rachel Summers, who you claimed not to know, had zero record of malpractice and not one complaint lodged against her in twelve years asa veterinary doctor. Not one. I understand being happy about Dr. Patel’s death after what happened with Shooter, but Dr. Summers wasn’t the same sort of vet. I assume Shooter went to the vet more than just the last time.”

He looked warily at Faith. “Yeah? So?”

“And I assume that other vets were able to help him? Keep him healthy, make him feel better when he was sick?”

“Yeah?”

“And those vets. Do they deserve to die? Do their patients deserve to be without good, kind doctors?”

Jack lowered his eyes. “No.”

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