Page 34 of So Lethal

“Let’s try knocking one last time,” he said. “Then we’ll walk around the property and see if we can get his attention.”

He knocked firmly, his “cop-knock” that worked wonders for startling suspects into either opening the door or trying to flee. Either would be fine with Faith at this point. With Turk here, there was almost no chance of Marcus successfully fleeing.

“He ain’t gonna hear you!” a voice to their right called. “He’s deaf! Lost his hearing in a gas explosion last year.”

The voice belonged to a middle-aged man in a dirty wifebeater who leaned out of his window and squinted at them. “You’ll have to call him. He’s got a machine that types whatever you say on a piece of paper.”

“Thank you,” Faith said. “What’s your name?”

“Name’s Casper. Like the ghost.”

“Thank you, Casper. Are you going to be here for a while?”

Casper chuckled. “Rest of my life probably. I’m retired.”

“Good for you. We might come over and talk in a few minutes.”

Casper scratched his nearly bald head. “All right. Marcus in trouble?”

“We’re not sure yet.”

The door opened, startling Faith. She spun around, hand flying to her shoulder holster. She found herself staring at a tall, muscular man with a week-old stubble, a mop of unruly hair, and rheumy blue eyes that blazed with grief, irritation, contempt, and despair all at once. The pungent odor of sweat and alcohol washed over her, almost enough to make her eyes water.

This specimen—Marcus Wolfe, surely—held a note in front of her face. On the note, scribbled in jerky handwriting, was the message, get off my property.

Faith took her hand off of her gun and raised it and its companion, palms outward. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wolfe,” she said slowly and clearly. “I’m Special Agent Faith Bold. This is my partner—”

Marcus pointed to his ears and chopped his hand across his throat in an exaggerated gesture.

“I understand,” Faith continued, slowing her speech further. “I’m with the FBI.” She pointed at her vest. “F… B… I. I need to talk to you about—”

Marcus slammed the door into her face. Faith turned to Michael. Turk growled this time, softly but enough to let Faith know he was annoyed by their suspect’s reaction.

“He can’t hear you!” Casper called again.

Faith rolled her eyes. “We got it. Thank you, sir. Go on inside, and we’ll talk to you in a moment.”

“All right,” Casper replied in a slightly injured tone. “Just trying to be helpful.”

Faith waited until she heard the window shut, then said, “We’ll try your idea and go around the house to try to get his attention. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to—”

The door flew open again. Faith jumped backwards and cried, “Jesus!”

Marcus shoved another note into her face. This one read, are you stupid? I can’t hear you, dumbass!

“We need to talk to you,” Faith said. She pointed at herself, then at Marcus. “I need to talk to you.”

Marcus stared at her like she’d just announced her candidacy for President of Jupiter. He lifted his hands into the air, shoved the note into her face again, then stormed inside and shut the door.

Faith looked at the porch and sighed. “Okay, this was a bad idea.”

“We can call Beth and see if we can get her to interpret for us.”

“Do that,” Faith said, “but first, call Ferris and see if he can put two officers on Marcus. I don’t want another incident like we had with Dr. Crane."

The three investigators crossed the yard to Casper’s house while Michael made the phone calls. “I got Beth’s voicemail,” he told Faith. “Ferris said he can have officers in the area in ten minutes.”

“That’s good enough. Thank you.”

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