So Simple, page 4
“It’s almost exactly the same. Actually, it was worse for Milleson. Our killer used a tire iron for her.”
Michael winced. A tire iron's smaller contact point would transfer a greater concentration of force onto a smaller area than a baseball bat. The results in that case would be explosive, a fact that Warren confirmed a moment later. "There was more of Amanda's head on the wall than there was on the floor."
Michael grimaced again. Faith, no stranger to extreme violence, still felt her stomach turn at the news. “Any defensive wounds in either case?”
“Nothing,” Warren replied. “Both victims were hit before they had time to realize what was going on.”
Faith nodded. “Do you happen to know what happened to Amanda’s dog?”
Warren lifted an eyebrow. “I believe it would have been taken to the shelter. Moorhead PD works with Moorhead Animal Home.”
“Thank you,” Faith replied, “if you think of anything else, please let us know.”
On the drive to Moorhead, Faith called the Moorhead Police Department and asked them to email Amanda Milleson’s crime scene photos to Michael’s Bureau Address. She asked about a charm too.
“Yeah, there was a little pendant of a three-headed dog,” the records officer replied. “You’ll have to come here if you want to look at the real thing, but there’s a photo of it in the file.”
“The photo will work,” Faith replied, “Thank you, officer.”
“Of course,” he said, “Good luck, Special Agent.”
“He sounds a lot friendlier than Trent.”
“Maybe it’s only when they have to look at us that they hate us,” Faith replied.
They reached the animal home ten minutes later. The rectangular gray concrete building with its minimal windows reminded Faith of the prisons she had visited. That wasn’t an inaccurate comparison.
They were met by a tired-looking woman in her mid-forties who introduced herself as Leah. When Faith gave the reason for their visit, she sighed. “Yeah, she’s still here. Poor girl. She barely eats now. Never interacts with the other dogs, or the staff either. Just stares ahead at nothing all day. I don’t think she can accept that her owner’s gone.”
“Can we see her?”
“Sure. Your dog’s friendly right?”
“He’s friendly,” Faith replied. She didn’t feel a need to mention that Turk could be very unfriendly if the situation called for it.
Leah led them to a cage near the back of the shelter. Inside lay a labradoodle that Faith guessed to be about four or five years old. It’s matted coat, patchy in some areas, and its thin frame made it appear much older.
Faith could see for herself that the dog had given up after losing its owner. Maybe the killer did hate dogs. He had traumatized two of them to the point where they couldn’t function.
Turk went immediately to the labradoodle. As before with Luna, the labradoodle slowly accepted Turk’s affection. But its eyes retained the same empty expression.
“Her name is Doris,” Leah offered helpfully.
“Hi, Doris,” Faith said softly.
Doris lifted her eyes to meet Faith’s but otherwise didn’t react. Faith’s heart went out to the poor dog. It had suffered far more than it should have. Just like Luna.
It occurred to Faith that—like Turk—both dogs would have likely witnessed their owners’ deaths. She couldn’t imagine how a dog would recover from that experience.
An image of David’s broken body flashed through her mind. She shivered and crossed her arms. Michael frowned at her with concern, and she lowered her arms to her sides. “What was Doris’s demeanor when you picked her up?”
“Same as she is now. Didn’t react to her name or to any kind of stimuli. Just stood there staring like that. Except when we tried to remove her. She fought like hell to stay with her owner. We had to sedate her to get her here.”
Faith nodded. “I’m not surprised.”
Doris moved her head to rest on Turk’s paws, and Turk lowered his head over hers in a canine approximation of a hug. The simple gesture of affection touched Faith. Good dog.
“I don’t know how someone could do something like this,” Leah said, shaking her head. “Some people are just so violent. I don’t understand it.”
“Some people just don’t have that part of their brain that tells them to value the lives of others,” Michael said.
Watching Doris with Turk, seeing the shock in her eyes, Faith no longer believed their killer was acting to defend adopted dogs. Anyone could see the pain in Doris’s and Luna’s eyes. Their killer certainly did, and he didn’t care.
Or maybe he did. Maybe this was his twisted way of getting back at the dogs for some reason.
That was a bit far-fetched of a thought, but Faith filed it away just in case. Far-fetched seemed to be par for the course in her case.
“Come on, boy,” she called Turk.
Turk stood, gently extricating himself from Doris. He didn’t come to Faith though. Instead, he whined softly and touched his snout to Doris.
The labradoodle looked up at him. Then, after a moment, she stood and walked slowly to her food dish and began to eat. Faith felt a lump form in her throat, and when she turned to Leah, the older woman was crying. “Isn’t that just beautiful?” she said, “You have a great dog, Special Agent.”
“Yes,” Faith agreed. “I do.”
The three of them headed back to the hotel. Turk lay in between the two beds and stared ahead, his eyes filled with the weight of his haunted past. Faith sat with him a moment, just being with him as he had been there for those dogs and for her so many times. Finally, Turk licked Faith’s arm to let her know he was all right. She squeezed him in a half-hug, then walked over to Michael, who sat at the room’s desk looking through crime scene photos on his laptop.
“You still think our killer is trying to avenge dogs?” Michael asked.
“No,” she admitted, “but the dogs are important somehow.”
Michael shook his head. “I still think this is sexual deviancy. Just because he hasn’t escalated to sexual assault yet doesn’t mean it’s not sexually motivated. Sex and violence are intimately linked in the minds of many serial killers. They’re both forms of control.”
“I’m familiar with the theory,” Faith replied, “but I don’t think that’s the case here. The Cerberus charm was found at both scenes,” she said, pointing to an image that showed a charm identical to the one she had found in Rebecca Green’s house. “The dogs have something important to do with it. I just don’t know what.”
“Maybe the killer is someone who works with dogs,” Michael suggested. “He might have met the victims through that connection.”
“That’s possible,” Faith agreed, “if we could find something… hold on.”
“What is it?” Michael asked.
Faith pointed at one of the images on Michael’s screen and asked, “Can you zoom in on that?”
“Sure,” he said.
He clicked the image, and it filled his screen. “Right there,” Faith pointed. “Do you see that?”
Michael’s eyes first narrowed, then widened. “Well, what do you know,” he said, “Rebecca Green had one of those.”
The “one of those” in question was a fabric leash of the same make as the one Michael had taken from Rebecca Green’s house. It was even the same color.
They looked up the leash and found that it was a local model sold at one location only: the veterinary office of Doctor David Miller.
Faith’s lips thinned. David was one of the most common names in the English language, but it still bothered her that a potential serial killer shared a name with her boyfriend, who also happened to be a vet.
And also happened to be in the hospital with severe head trauma.
Faith felt her hands ball into fists, and when she noticed Michael staring, she willed them to relax. “All right,” she said, “it looks like we have our first suspect.”
CHAPTER FOUR
David Miller’s practice was located halfway in between the two major animal shelters in the Fargo-Moorhead area. It wasn’t a surprise to Faith to learn from Leah that not only was David Miller the only seller of the leashes they had found at Both Rebecca Miller’s and Amanda Milleson’s home, he was also a supplier of many such leashes to the local animal shelters.
That meant the two victims might have just gotten their leashes for free when they picked up their dogs and not purchased them from David, but it didn’t clear David of suspicion quite yet. Doris, at least, had received her shots from Dr. Miller when Amanda adopted her, so he knew of at least one of the two women.
Doctor Miller was out to lunch when they reached the office, but after seeing their FBI uniforms, the receptionist was all too willing to tell them that Dr. Miller always lunched in his office.
Lucky us, Faith thought.
Turk wore an intense expression as they approached the office. “Easy boy,” Faith said.
Normally, Turk would never think to act without a direct command from Faith, but considering how upset he was over David and the other two dogs, she didn’t want to risk that he might lose control here. He looked at her and dipped his head in acknowledgement.
They knocked on Doctor Miller’s door, and an annoyed voice called, “I’m eating lunch! Unless a patient is dying, it can wait!”
“Actually, it can’t,” Faith called back. “This is the FBI. We need you to talk to us.”
The door opened and Doctor David Miller revealed himself to be a thickly muscled man with a broad chest, bulging arms and thighs as thick as tree trunks. He certainly looked able to kick down a door and swing a baseball bat. He was of average height, shorter than Michael’s six feet, but at least sixty pounds of muscle heavier than Michael’s two hundred.
His eyes flicked between the two agents. Faith tensed slightly, waiting for an outburst, but when he spoke, he was calm. “May I ask what this is about, agents?”
“We’re investigating the murders of Rebecca Green and Amanda Milleson,” Faith replied. “Can you confirm your whereabouts for yesterday evening?”
Miller blinked. His expression became wary. “Am I a suspect?”
“We just have a few questions to ask you,” Michael replied.
“No, that’s not an answer,” he replied, “I asked if I’m a suspect. Am I a suspect?”
“Did you kill them?” Faith asked.
“No. Of course not.”
“Then you have nothing to lose from answering a few questions honestly,” Faith replied.
Miller’s eyes flicked between the three of them. When his eyes fell to Turk, Turk growled low in his throat. Faith tensed even further. Turk smelled something. Maybe it was the victims or their dogs.
Miller frowned. “What’s going on? Why is your dog growling at me?”
“Relax, Doctor Miller,” Faith said. “All you need to do is stay calm.”
Miller glared at her, but behind his anger was fright and behind that something that might be guilt.
“Can you confirm your whereabouts for yesterday evening?” Faith asked.
“I was at home.” He replied. “I live alone, and I have guard dogs, not a security camera, so I don’t know how to prove I was there.”
It was a point against him as a suspect that he had dogs, but if they were guard dogs, it was possible he didn’t treat them kindly the way he might treat a pet.
“Would one of your neighbors have seen you?” Michael offered.
“No. I didn’t think I was going to get questioned for murder in the morning, so I neglected to ask one of them to film me entering my own home.”
“There’s no need to get defensive, Doctor Miller,” Faith said calmly. “We’re just asking questions.”
“Yeah, because you suspect me of murder.”
“What time did you leave the office last night?” Faith asked.
“At three… six p.m.”
“Three or six?” Faith asked.
Miller met her eyes. For a moment, he looked frightened. Then his jaw tensed slightly.
She saw what he planned to do a split second before he did it. “Turk!” she cried out.
A second too late. Miller shoved past them and bolted for the door. Though he only shrugged past Faith rather than striking her, the force of the contact was enough to lift her off of her feet and send her crashing into the wall. Michael fared only slightly better, staggering backwards and knocking over a cartF of surgical implements.
Turk danced out of the way of the charging vet and immediately gave pursuit. Miller didn’t bother opening the door. He just put his shoulder down and ran right through it.
“Take him down, Turk!” Faith called as she and Michael gave chase. Michael split off in the hallway, rushing for the back door. Smart. That way, they could flank him.
She drew her weapon when they headed outside and leveled it at Miller. “Doctor Miller! Stop!”
He didn’t, of course, but he did turn his head, which meant he didn’t see Michael coming around the corner. Michael hit him with a hard left hook to the jaw. The blow didn’t knock Miller out, but it staggered him, delaying him long enough that Turk had time to catch him and latch onto his leg. Miller cried out and struggled against the German Shepherd, but Turk was more determined than Faith had ever seen him. With a mighty twist, Turk pulled Miller to the ground. Michael drew his handgun, and Miller finally lifted his hands.
“Please call your dog off!” he cried. “It hurts!”
“Yeah, that happens when you run from law enforcement,” Faith said.
She did call Turk off, though, and Miller sighed with relief when Turk released him. He didn’t resist as Michael cuffed him. His tough guy demeanor was gone. He trembled like a leaf as they led him to the cruiser and spent the entire ride to the station insisting he was innocent and begging to be let go.
“If you’re innocent,” Faith replied, “then you have nothing to worry about. All you have to do is be honest and help us clear you.”
“What if you don’t believe me?” he asked plaintively.
“I believe evidence, Doctor Miller,” she replied. “I have evidence that links you to these murders. However, you might be able to explain that. I’m hoping you can.”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
Faith shared a look with Michael, and they ignored Miller for the rest of the drive to the precinct. David continued to protest as they booked him, but once he was shackled to the table, the gravity of his situation seemed to hit him, and he lapsed into stunned silence.
“All right, Doctor,” Faith said, “I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you left your office around three yesterday afternoon. That sound right?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Miller pouted.
Michael sighed and rubbed his head. “Doctor Miller, when did you leave your damned office? Can you answer that question?”
“I left at three, okay? I left the office at three.”
“What did you do after you left the office?”
“I…” he trailed off and looked to his left.
“Lying is a very bad idea right now, Doctor Miller,” Faith advised. “Unless, of course, you are the murderer, in which case I guess you might as well try whatever you can think of.”
“I’m not lying!”
“You’re not saying anything,” Michael clarified. “That makes me think that you murdered some girls. Do you want to try to convince me otherwise?”
“Oh for God… I was with a client, okay?”
“With a client, or with a client?” Faith asked.
“What do you think?” Miller pouted.
“I think you need to start answering us.”
Miller tried to run his hands through his hair, but his shackles stopped him. He began bouncing his left knee, drumming his heel on the floor. “Look, this client is very high-profile, and he made it very clear that if I tell anyone what he and I are doing together, he’ll ruin me. He can do it too. It’s consensual, no one’s hurting anyone.”
“As long as you don’t reveal his name.”
“Yes,” Miller replied, “and unless you think revealing his name will somehow prove I’m not a murderer, you need to drop this.”
“Revealing his name will prove you’re not a murderer,” Faith replied, “because it will allow us to verify your whereabouts.”
He lowered his head, lips trembling, and said, “All right. God, he’s going to be so pissed.”
“And he is?” Michael pressed.
Miller sighed again. “Councilman Denner.”
“First name?”
Miller looked at them incredulously, and Faith reminded him, “We’re not from around here.”
“Oh, right. Councilman James Denner of the Moorhead City Council. He and I have been seeing each other. Please don’t tell him I told you.”
“We have to,” Faith replied. “And you need us to.”
“You don’t understand! I’ll lose my business!”
“Why?”
“He’ll deny my license! I’ll have to move out of the area and start over!”
“I think you’re overreacting a little,” Faith replied. “If he denies your license, you could expose your affair. It’s an empty threat. Assuming, of course, that you’re telling the truth.”
“Man, I don’t want it to end, though! Haven’t you ever been in love?”
Faith thought of David’s bruised and broken body and said, "Love hurts sometimes." She stood, and the three of them left the room. Turk gave Miller a final growl before following the two of them.
While Michael talked with the Councilman, Faith sipped on a coffee in the break room. The arrest, booking and interrogation of Miller had taken up the entire afternoon. If his alibi was confirmed, they would be left without a lead again. A part of her hoped Michael would come back and tell her that the alibi was junk. She didn’t feel great about hoping for that, but it would be nice to have a case that was wrapped up in a clean and straightforward manner.
“If wishes were horses,” she muttered. Turk looked up at her, and she said, “Nothing, boy. Just talking to myself.”
He gave her a wary look that she decided was a perfectly appropriate response to hearing her say she was talking to herself. She chuckled and patted his shoulder.
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