Page 49 of So Lethal

“Oh, that was so horrible. My friend Hector works the desk during the day, and he told me—”

“Rose, I need you to focus for me. Four months ago, the center hosted a career day for the hearing impaired. I need to know if a particular individual attended that event.”

“Oh, there’s no way I can verify that. It was an open event. Anyone could have walked in. I can tell you who presented or ran a booth.”

“I’ll take it. The man’s name is Carl Sampson.”

“Carl… Sampson… Yeah, here he is. He ran a booth talking about auto repair. I guess he owned a shop in Fremont.”

Faith pumped her fist. “Thank you, Rose. You’ve been a big help.”

She hung up and said, “Carl was at the trial and at the career day.”

“Hell yeah,” Michael said. “Let’s give him a call.”

Faith dialed the number and put the phone on speaker. A moment later, a slightly groggy and more than slightly irritated female voice replied, “Hello?”

“Good evening. This is Special Agent Faith Bold with the FBI.”

“So you really are the FBI? Why is the FBI calling me at ten-forty in the evening?”

"I apologize for the inconvenience, ma'am," Faith replied. "I need to speak to Carl Sampson. Is he available?"

The phone was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with venom. “Is this a joke?”

Faith’s brow furrowed. “No, it’s no joke, ma’am. In fact, it’s a very serious matter. I need to speak to him as soon as possible.”

“Carl died two months ago.”

Michael cursed softly. Faith could only manage a weak, “I see.”

“Why are you looking for him now? Was he involved in something?”

Faith sighed. "I guess not. I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am."

She hung up and folded her hands on the desk, resting her forearms on her closed fists. “Well, shit. There goes our lead.”

Michael stood. “I’m going to bed. We’re not getting anywhere grabbing at straws. Let’s get some rest, and we’ll reapproach the problem in the morning.”

“I really, really, really hate that,” Faith said.

“If you have an idea where to look next, I’m all ears,” Michael replied. “Otherwise, I think our best bet is to get some shuteye and hit it with fresh minds tomorrow. He’s already killed someone tonight, and he came within a hair's breadth of getting caught. I doubt seriously he's going to try anything stupid again before morning."

Faith nodded. Michael was right. They’d pulled all-nighters before, but they had nowhere to go right now, and driving themselves to exhaustion chasing their tails wasn’t going to help them catch their murderer.

She sighed again. “Yeah, all right. Damn it.”

Michael laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get this guy. We’re closing in on him, I can feel it. We just need to find the last missing piece.”

She managed a half-smile that did nothing to hide her frustration, then went to the bathroom to change. This was the hardest part of every case. Coming within literal feet of catching their suspect only for him to flee galled her. Maybe Michael was right, and it wasn't really her fault, but it was hard not to think of everything she could have done differently that might have changed that outcome. And to find a promising lead only to lose it in a few minutes didn't help her mood.

By the time she left the bathroom, Michael was fast asleep. She envied him that ability. She’d had it once herself, back when she was a Marine and life was simple. Dangerous and terrifying, but simple. Since Trammell, though, she hadn’t been able to find sleep nearly as easily.

She lay in bed and spent a while staring at the ceiling and trying to put a picture of their killer together in her head. Try as she might, his image remained vague and featureless.

Eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed her impatience. Her eyes closed, and she fell asleep, the apparition of their killer still haunting her.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

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