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They reached the neighborhood in five minutes thanks to the wonderful ability of the cruiser to move faster than the lumbering box Faith had to drive to the scene of Clarke’s arrest. The moment she opened the door, she knew they were in the right place.
Turk barked and shook his head, whining and growling. Around her, she could hear several other dogs barking and howling. The streets were empty, but several windows were opened as residents tried to get a peek at what was going on.
“Should we tell them to stay inside and lock their windows?” Michael asked.
Faith hesitated a moment before saying, "No. If someone comes outside, we'll tell them, but I don't want to alert our suspect. He kills with a knife, not a gun, so I don't think we have to worry about collateral damage."
“We carry guns,” Michael reminded her.
"Then we'll have to use them with care. Hopefully not at all. We'll have Turk take the guy down. We shoot only to save Turk's life or the life of a potential victim."
“What about our own lives?”
Faith glared at him. “Now’s not the time to be cute, Michael.”
“Okay. In not-cute news, Turk doesn’t look so hot. Are you sure he’ll be good to handle this?”
Turk shook his head from side to side and paced in a figure eight. He looked at Faith plaintively, and she said, “I know this is tough boy, but I need you to fight through it, okay? Can you push through it and find me this guy?”
Turk whined and shook his head, and Faith dropped to the ground and ruffled his fur. “You can do it, boy. You’re a Marine, right?”
Turk met her eyes and dipped his head in acknowledgment. Faith smiled grimly. "Then suck it up, jarhead. Let's go get this asshole."
Turk barked and started off, trotting down the street. Faith nodded at Michael and drew her handgun, then followed her dog, Michael close behind.
Every few seconds, Turk would whine and shake his head. Faith couldn’t hear the noise that caused him to react that way, but each time it came, her skin crawled, and a sense of panic slithered up her spine. Maybe she couldn’t quite hear the whistle, but she could sense it somehow. If it affected her this way, she could understand how it affected their victims so much more powerfully.
Turk continued for a quarter mile down the street. When he reached a cross street, he stood in the middle of the road uncertainly for a minute, then headed right. The agents kept pace as dogs continued to howl and whine.
This was it. Faith wasn’t sure how she knew it, but this was it. This was their guy. Logic told her that she had no more reason to believe that than Wanda had to believe that Clarke was their guy, but her gut told her that she had finally found her killer.
The hair stood on the back of her neck, and she spun around, gun drawn. There was no one there.
“Faith?”
She spun around again, and Michael caught her wrist before she could point her weapon at him. She reddened and said, “Sorry.”
“West is not here,” Michael said firmly. “He’s in jail, and this guy we’re after now is not on his level. You’re safe.”
Faith felt a rush of anger at Michael’s assumption that she was thinking of West. That anger disappeared when the hair stood on the back of her neck again, and she could almost hear his taunting laughter.
I will break you.
This was her chance to prove that he hadn’t broken her, that he never would. She wasn’t going to let him take away her strength and self-control.
She nodded and said, “You’re right. Come on, let’s go.”
She turned to follow Turk again. The dog had put about fifteen yards of distance between them while she and Michael dealt with her momentary panic, and they jogged to catch up.
They had just reached him when he barked and shot in between two of the houses. Faith and Michael broke into a sprint and followed him.
Turk crossed the street on the other side and shot between two more houses on the opposite side. Faith and Michael struggled to keep up, but Turk easily outpaced them. Faith nearly called for him to slow down, but she didn’t want to alert their suspect. Turk was one of many barking dogs, but if the killer heard an FBI agent call to her K9 unit, he would know he was being chased.
Come on, boy, she thought silently. Go get him.
They reached the next street, and Turk stopped and howled. He put his head to the ground and started scratching his ear on the pavement. Faith didn’t hear a sound so much as feel a pressure in her ears. It wasn’t painful, not really, but it sent a fresh wave of anxiety through her.
They were close.
