Page 29 of So Wicked

The reporter, of course, didn’t take no for an answer. “Can you tell us if you have any suspects?”

Slade didn’t bother answering him. “Sergeant, get these dipshits off of my crime scene. Move them if you have to. I’ll be more than happy to tell the judge exactly why I used force to prevent destruction of evidence.”

There was a mild commotion as the unseen sergeant and his officers cleared the cemetery of press. Faith sunk lower in her seat and prayed silently that the passing newspeople didn’t glance into the passenger window of Slade’s cruiser. She looked behind at Turk and decided he was okay to be seen. Cops had K9s too.

The door opened. “All right.”

“Shit!” Faith swore, flinching. “Damn it, Slade.”

“Sorry. I was just saying it’s safe to come out now.”

“Right.” She rubbed her forehead. “Yeah.”

She got out of the cruiser and let Turk out. Unfortunately, the crime scene had indeed been trampled. The ground surrounding the body was full of footprints, and it was impossible to tell if any of them were the killers.

“Bunch of parasites,” Slade muttered. “Damn it.”

“Did they touch the body?”

“A part of me hopes so, Special Agent, because if I find a single fingerprint from one of those Neanderthals on my victim, I will make it my personal mission to ensure that they lose every single privilege that might allow them to work in news ever again.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Sorry. I just hate reporters.”

“Can’t say I’m a huge fan either,” Faith said. She looked down at the body. “There are worse people, though.”

The victim wore scrubs instead of the business casual outfit Dr. Patel had worn. He also wore glasses. He also was a he, which was more evidence in favor of the hypothesis that it was the victims’ profession that mattered more than anything. Perhaps the only thing that mattered.

She stooped down and put on some rubber gloves. “Who called it in?”

“Security guard. Showed up, saw the body, noped out and called us. Sergeant told me over the phone that they talked tohim already. I have his number if I think we want to call him later.”

“Works for me. I doubt it’s a guard anyway. It’s got to be someone who knows the victims personally.”

She pulled the victim’s wallet from his pocket and looked at the ID. “Dr. Mark Chen.”

“Let me see it,” Slade said. She handed him the wallet, and he said, “I’ll send the DL number to the station and have them get me a bio on this guy.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and took a picture of the ID. “So you think it’s someone who knows our victims?”

“I do. These killings were done to send a message.”

“What message, though? It’s not just bad vets. You said so yourself.”

“No, not just bad ones. I don’t know what the message is yet. It might have something to do with punishment. It might even be a way to show forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?”

“Or absolution.” She cocked her head. “Hmm. I have a project for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. I want you to figure out what the connection between all of these victims is.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think the victims knew each other?”

“Maybe. Maybe they just happened to be in the same place at the same time. Maybe they all just happened to have our killer in their extended social circle.”

“So they might not know each other, but the killer would have to know all of them.”

“Yes. There are dozens of veterinary doctors in the Indianapolis area, maybe hundreds. This killer targeted three specific ones in three different places around Carmel andWestfield. I would bet my career that he has a reason for picking each of them.”

Actually, shewasbetting her career.

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