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“Well, I don’t answer numbers I don’t recognize,” Gina said irritably.
Faith could have explained that was why she had to visit the house personally, but she decided it wasn’t worth her time trying. “Have a nice evening, ma’am,” she said. “Lock your doors and windows, and if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, please call nine-one-one.”
She walked outside, Turk on her heels. “Well, boy,” she said, “I guess someone else gets to catch this killer.”
She walked back to Darla’s car and started dialing Darla’s number to ask where to return the vehicle, but stopped when her phone rang. It was Derek.
“No luck,” Derek said. “We checked every single house. No one’s there. You have the rings?”
“I have them,” Faith said. “Levinson is our man for sure.”
“Well,” Derek said, “he’s gone. I’m guessing you didn’t find him at Gina Norris’s residence?”
“No,” Faith said quietly.
“Well,” Derek said, “that’s that, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Faith said. “I guess.”
“We’ll put out an APB,” Derek said. “We’ll get the Border Patrol and Marshals on it. If he tries to leave the state or the country, we’ll pick him up. Don’t worry, Bold. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” Faith said, “thank you.”
Derek hung up, and she sighed, staring out at the window. It didn’t make sense. Why would he have left without the rings? It just didn’t make sense. She was so sure the rings were important.
Maybe she had underestimated him. Maybe he was strong enough that he could overcome his need for the keepsakes when his freedom was on the line. There was no arguing that he wasn’t in Gina Norris’s house, and if he wasn’t at any of the other houses, then he must be gone.
Or he had selected his victim before today, and they were barking completely up the wrong tree. She hoped desperately that wasn’t the case, but if it was, she supposed they would find out soon enough.
She pushed the keys into the ignition, but before she could start the engine, she paused. She had forgotten to check a large standing wardrobe in the bedroom. She hesitated, wondering if it was worth going back into the house for that. Turk hadn’t smelled anything, but if it was the rings he smelled and not the killer himself, then he wouldn’t have picked up a scent.
That was why Levinson left the rings at home. Faith was sure of that. She had no way of knowing that it was true, but it was as powerful a hunch as any she’d ever felt.
She had to check. Worst case, Darla would chew her out for scaring her again.
She got out of the car and headed to the door. She knocked, but there was no answer. A stone formed in the pit of Faith’s stomach. She knocked again, and once more, there was no answer. She called Gina’s number. It went straight to voicemail. She called out, “Gina? Mrs. Norris?”
There was no response.
She drew her weapon and tested the door. At the same time, Turk growled low in his throat. Faith’s heart raced, and she silently prayed the door was unlocked in spite of her advice to Gina.
It opened easily, and she released a soft sigh of relief. She walked inside, but her walk turned into a dead run when Turk sprinted up the stairs. Faith heard a cry of fear just before she followed Turk into the bedroom.
Gina Norris lay on the floor with her hand pressed to her neck, eyes wide. Blood trickled through her fingers. Faith turned her eyes to Turk who had his teeth around the arm of the man he had identified earlier that morning as the killer. The cry of fear came from the owner of that arm, Henry Levinson, who shrieked and dropped the knife he held in the arm Turk had seized.
Faith pointed her handgun at him, and Levinson, showing surprising strength, lifted Turk off of the ground and held him in the air to protect himself from Faith’s weapon.
Faith cursed and debated rushing him but decided against it. The last thing she needed was for Levinson to disarm her somehow. Besides, though Levinson was clearly far stronger than he looked, he was no match for Turk.
She rushed to Gina’s side. Gina’s eyes pleaded for help, and Faith said, “Keep pressure on the wound.”
She searched for something she could use to stifle the bleeding, and when she found nothing, she pulled her shirt off and pushed it onto the wound. The knife had glanced off of her neck, leaving a wound that while deep had only nicked the jugular vein and not severed it. Faith realized she had interrupted him just as he struck what he intended to be the killing blow. If help didn’t arrive soon, it would be the killing blow, severed vein or not.
She pulled her phone out and called Michael. “Get over here ASAP!” she cried. “Norris residence. He’s here!”
“On our way,” Michael said.
“Call for an ambulance,” Faith instructed.
