Page 21 of So Alone

“Not possible,” Michael said, shaking his head. “The bite marks were all the wrong size for coyotes. Unless Dr. Jensen is horrifically incompetent, a pack of different-sized dogs killed our victims.”

“Or a pack of different-sized coyotes,” Faith pointed out.

“Not the same,” Michael replied. “The dentition is different.”

“The what?”

“The bite patterns. I looked it up over lunch.”

Faith sighed. “Noted,” she said. “What do we do then?”

“Well, I’m not saying we don’t look into the coyote angle,” Michael replied. “I’m not an expert, after all. I’m just saying we don’t abandon the idea that dogs were involved too. Whether or not the dogs were operating under the influence of a human shot-caller is another question.”

They fell silent a moment, each considering where to proceed.

“We could stake out likely hotspots,” Tom suggested. “The industrial park, the nature preserve, the sports complex; anywhere on the outskirts of town with low population concentrations and plenty of cover near wide open spaces.”

Faith sighed and shook her head. She felt like she was in a bad procedural show. Grid-searches and now stakeouts. Next, she would be in a high-speed car chase while Michael shot through the passenger window.

But she didn’t have any better ideas. “All right,” she said. “Michael, Turk and I will take the industrial park. I want you to stake out the nature park. You can assign your deputies wherever you’d like, but I want us on the two known crime scenes. Carnivores tend to frequent the same hunting grounds, so if there really is a pack of coyotes or wild dogs killing people, they’ll return to where they were successful before.”

“Works for me,” Tom responded. “I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“Same here.”

He left, and Faith and Michael shared a look. "This is bullshit," Faith said.

“Yes,” Michael agreed. “Makes me long for the days when our killer would use a good, old-fashioned murder weapon like an exotic cocktail of poisons or a syringe of industrial strength detergent.”

***

Faith and Michael waited on top of the warehouse in the middle of the construction lot where two days prior, Gigi Demetrious had been eaten alive. They wore night-vision goggles to keep light pollution to a minimum. Turk saw clearly without the visual enhancement and lay next to Faith, ears turned to pick up any sound from the park.

Silence. Faith sighed and turned to Michael, who gazed stoically ahead. She risked a whisper. "I think we should try to see if there's a connection between the two victims."

“We already interviewed their employees and coworkers,” Michael replied, “and their families. No one in either circle knew the other.”

“Maybe Gerald was sleeping with her,” Faith offered. “It’s a stretch, but everything right now is.”

Michael shook his head. “I feel like someone would have known something about that.”

“Then something else,” Faith insisted. “They have to be related somehow.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Michael countered. “None of Kenneth Langeveldt’s victims were related. The only thing that connected them was that they bore a very superficial resemblance to the family he murdered when he was a teenager. The fact that Gerald and Gigi were both assholes may be all of the connection we get, and anyone we know of who might have a reason to act on that assholishness has an alibi.”

Turk stood suddenly, ears cocked forward. Michael and Faith tensed and turned to watch the central courtyard where Turk gazed.

A rat trundled into the courtyard, its body engorged with a recent feast. It made it halfway across the courtyard before an owl swooped silently down and grasped it, its talons crushing the life out of the rodent before it could cry out.

Faith and Michael looked at each other. “Well, that was creepy as hell,” Michael said.

“Not helpful to us, though,” Faith said.

“Still creepy.”

They resumed their silent vigil. Faith’s thoughts began to turn after a while to the Copycat Killer case. She begin to wonder who could know her well enough to have such intimate details of her life. She didn’t like the implication. Faith was a private person. She had no friends outside of the Bureau other than David. That left a very short and very disturbing list of people who might know enough about her to threaten the people she loved by name.

Months ago, she had suspected Gordon Clark of being the Copycat killer, basing her suspicion on Gordon’s seemingly preternatural ability to end up wherever Faith was when she was investigating the murders and on Turk’s violent reaction when he first met Gordon. She had verified that Gordon couldn’t possibly have been the killer long before his death at the hands of the real killer, but that didn’t mean that no one at the Bureau was responsible.

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