Page 54 of So Wicked

Fifty minutes.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

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.”

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