Page 53 of So Alone

Michael was nearby, the next grid location over, a scrub plain close enough to the road that it was feasible he could park whatever vehicle he had near the plain. He would be at her location in fifteen minutes if she found Chung.

That wouldn’t be enough time to stop her if she felt a need to intervene. She would try to find cover so she could hold Chung off for as long as possible without needing to step in, but that might not save Warhol.

She took a breath and nudged her mind in a different direction. She thought she knew what the chain of events was. Chung had taken Warhol in a smaller vehicle, then used that smaller vehicle to transport the dogs a few at a time to wherever he kept the larger vehicle and fled town from there. She wasn’t sure if he had thought of that all at once or pieced it together as he went along, but she would bet that’s what happened. If they had more time, she would have Tom look up Chung and see if he owned any other property besides his house, but right now, she needed all hands on deck looking for Chung.

There were just too many places to look. Goldwood wasn’t a small town, but it was the only town for at least an hour in every direction. It was almost comedic how perfect the area was for committing murder.

So where would Chung go? In a worst-case scenario, he was smart enough to realize that he could go anywhere and would simply drive until he found the first convenient spot. That would make things incredibly difficult for the investigators, but not impossible. They had thirteen teams of people looking for him, and they could cover quite a bit of ground. Still, the farther out from town they went, the more ground they had to cover, and without helicopters, it was like finding a needle in a haystack.

So where would he go in a not worst-case scenario? Probably to one of the areas Tom mentioned—the park, the sports complex or the nature park just outside of town. The nature park would be bad. They had gambled that he wouldn’t go there and sent only one team to cover forty-four thousand acres.

The other two places would be a piece of cake. They could have uniforms on the scene in five minutes and make it impossible for him to escape.

Faith didn't think he would go anywhere he'd been before, though. He seemed to pick a new location for each victim. The question was, would he pick randomly this time or deliberately as he had before? If he did pick deliberately, where would he go?

She couldn’t think of an answer, so she let her mind drift elsewhere as she parked the cruiser and got out of the car with Turk. She looked around and saw a small cluster of boulders on the top of one of the ridges. She would head there and see if he was there.

This killing was emotional to him, more so than usual. He had been forced from his home. He had twenty-three dogs and was now forced to make a life elsewhere, and probably a quiet one without risking getting caught murdering people again.

He would make this one count. He would use all of his dogs, she was sure of it. He would use all of his dogs, and there would be nothing left of Andy Warhol when they were finished. Then he would leave. He may even choose to leave his dogs behind. She doubted that, though. They meant something to him. He loved them, or at least felt for them as close to love as he could feel.

Doctor Vanheusen had described him as a quiet and soft-spoken person, very shy but very helpful and very studious. He mentioned that Chung seemed to idolize him and was crushed when he learned Vanheusen’s research was being shut down. In his twisted mind, Faith was sure that he was doing this partly as an homage to Vanheusen.

She frowned. An homage to Vanheusen. Why was that thought sticking in her head? She played it around, knowing that if she was fixating on it, there was a very good reason for it.

Then it hit her.

She gasped and stiffened. Turk snapped his head to her, then looked around, trying to find the threat.

“We’re in the wrong place, Turk,” she said.

She turned and sprinted back to the cruiser, Turk right on her heels.

Chung idolized Vanheusen, saw him as an inspiration. Vanheusen was in jail and would likely not be back home for years, if at all. The property was large, more than enough room for two dozen dogs to chase down and kill Arthur Warhol. Vanheusen’s dogs had all been taken by animal control, and the DEA had confiscated all of the chemicals. The place was cordoned off, but there was no reason for anyone to suspect that someone might come back, so there was no surveillance, and it was outside of town and right next to a minor road that led south to a different interstate than the one that ran through Goldwood.

It was perfect.

She called Michael as soon as she was inside the cruiser. “Michael, he’s at Vanheusen’s house.”

“What? Are you sure?”

She quickly explained her reasoning. “That’s why we can’t find any sign of him. We’ve been assuming he’ll look for a place out in the open, but I think he’s doing this as an homage to Vanheusen.”

“I think he’s just capitalizing on an opportunity,” Michael replied, “but either way’s fine with me. Do you want me to call Tom and have him send everyone over there?”

Faith thought a moment. “No, not everyone. Just a half-dozen officers. That should be enough to handle them.”

“You sure about that? That’s a lot of dogs.”

“Yes, I’m sure. We might have to shoot to kill, but I think we can find a way out before it comes to that.”

“I hope you’re right, Faith.”

“Me too.”

She hung up and gunned the engine. Next to her, Turk stared intently out the window once more.

“What do you say, Turk? Wanna go catch a bad guy?”

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