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That thought strengthened her. She stood and squared her shoulders.
“Let’s go, Turk,” she said. “We have a killer to catch.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Faith,” Michael began, “anybody is going to be terrified if Turk lunges at them.”
She bristled at the condescension in his tone. Michael always trusted her intuition. The fact that he automatically dismissed her hurt and angered her.
Now was not the time to worry about her feelings, though. She took a deep breath. “Turk wore his gear. He knew Turk was a K9. He was terrified before Turk lunged. I don’t mean he was wary or a little frightened. He was terrified when he saw the dog. He thought he was caught.”
Michael rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's possible," he said, "but we'll need more proof before we go any further. I'll start digging through the evidence, see if anything sticks out."
“Damn it, don’t patronize me!” Faith snapped. Michael recoiled as though he’d been slapped, and she felt a brief pang of guilt for her reaction, but that guilt couldn’t overcome the renewed sense of energy the anger brought.
“This is a real lead,” she said adamantly. “We’re close. I can feel it. And I have Turk to thank for it.”
Michael said, “Maybe you do. Maybe Turk’s got a nose for these kinds of things.” She could tell by his tone and his face that he wasn’t convinced.
“Look,” she said, “a little luck, and we’ll have our killer.”
Michael sighed another infuriating, patronizing sigh. “Look, let’s just assume you’re right, and Turk wanted to attack the killer,” he said. “If that’s the case—”
“It is,” she said. Michael almost sighed again, but he clearly understood her warning glance.
“We still only have you seeing the man for a second or two and being focused on restraining a hundred pounds of German shepherd killing machine instead of noting his features. I mean, do you think you can even get with a sketch artist? Do you think you have a clear enough memory to do that?”
“I’ll recognize him if I see him again,” Faith said, “and I can do a sketch, I guess, but that’s not the next step.”
“You saw the killer and sketching him isn’t the next step? Come on, Faith.”
“Michael, for God’s sake!” she snapped. “Why can’t you just trust me? I know I’ve been a little … off, but this is different. Remember at Amanda Montgomery’s house? I told Turk to find him. He found him. That man was the killer.”
“Faith, I appreciate your instincts,” Michael said, rubbing his eyes, “but I don’t want to go off on another wild goose chase. What if you’re wrong?”
“What if I’m right?” she countered. Then something clicked in her mind. “Michael, we need to rework the profile. It’s wrong.”
“Rework the profile? Why?”
He stared at her, and she noted for the first time during this conversation that Michael actually paid attention without thinking of objections. She leaned back in her chair, mind racing with excitement. “I’ve looked at this from every possible direction, and I keep coming to the same conclusion. The killer is stealing the wedding bands of his victims as trophies.”
“We already know that,” Michael said.
“Yes,” she said, “because it explained why we keep finding victims with pale marks on their fingers but no wedding bands. The killer was keeping them as trophies. Serial Killer 101, right?”
“What’s your point, though?” Michael asked.
“He’s wearing them, Michael. He’s not saving them in some trophy case or some stash. He’s wearing them.”
She could see the gears in his head turning. “And if he’s wearing the rings, this all starts with his marriage, maybe.”
“Exactly! I mean, the whole cliché is a crazy guy killing Mommy over and over again. What if this particular crazy guy is killing wifey over and over again?” She smiled triumphantly. Michael smiled in reply. That was as good as she would get because Michael wouldn’t acknowledge his earlier condescension.
“But he kills men too.”
“Still fits,” she said, “because the defining factor isn’t gender. It’s whatever made his wife evil to him. For all we know, he’s gay, and it’s his husband, not his wife. The point is, he’s killing his spouse over and over.”
“So,” Michael said, “some serial killers actually start by killing their mothers but just as many never do. They kill substitute Mommy over and over again. What about this guy? Is his wife still alive?”
