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“It has to be someone who works here,” Faith said. “The only connection between the victims is that they’re both jerks and they both used the terminal.”
“Well,” Michael said, “that narrows our suspect pool from hundreds of thousands to hundreds. That’s progress.”
“Sure,” Faith said, “I suppose it is.”
They sat in the security office at the terminal reviewing footage from the night of Chester McIlhenny’s death. They were grasping at straws considering the woeful camera coverage, but if they could catch sight of either of the victims, they could at least get a sense of the timeline and hopefully an idea of where the actual murders took place.
“Can you call the field office?” Faith said. “Have them start looking into the employees here. See if anyone has a violent criminal past.”
“Sure,” Michael said.
Just at that moment, his phone buzzed. He picked it up and frowned. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“The Boss,” Michael said. He answered and said, “Prince. Yeah, she’s here.”
He set the phone down on the desk and put it on speaker.
“Hi, Boss,” Faith said, steeling herself for what she knew would be an unpleasant conversation.
She was right.
“What the hell are you two doing over there? I just got a call from the South African consulate saying you brutalized a South African citizen? You sicced your K9 on him and detained him without cause?”
“That’s not true, sir,” Faith said. “Turk smelled the poison on him and chased him down only after he refused to stop. We interrogated him briefly, and once we determined he wasn’t involved, we offered medical care, which Mr. Schoenmaker declined, and then we released him.”
“So, he did maul Mr. Schoenmaker. Why the hell was he detained in the first place?”
“Because, sir,” Faith said, “he refused to stop.”
“And why did he run, Bold?” the Boss asked irritably. “Did you politely approach him and ask to question him? Or perhaps Turk lunged at him the moment he caught a scent, and you demanded that he stop on that pretense. Then, when Schoenmaker ran from the aggressive woman and her snarling German shepherd, you just let Turk run Mr. Schoenmaker down because hey, he smelled something so it must be our killer.”
Faith sighed and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Yes, what?”
Faith sighed again. “Yes, Turk chased him, and I … allowed the pursuit.”
“Lovely,” the Boss said. “Well, you’re suspended.”
“What?” Michael and Faith said together.
“Yeah, you’re suspended. Or you would be if Mr. Schoenmaker decided to press charges. You allowed your K9 unit to fly completely off the handle and injure a citizen of another nation on a cause that is as thin as anything I’ve ever heard. Mr. Schoenmaker is well within his rights to sue the FBI for mistreatment, which would have cost us potentially hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees, damages, and medical care.”
“So, I’m not suspended?” Faith asked.
“I’m so glad you’re understanding the salient points of this conversation, Bold,” the Boss said sarcastically. “No, you’re not suspended, but full disclosure, Bold, I was typing up your suspension when Clark convinced me not to.”
“Clark convinced you not to suspend me?”
“Yes,” the Boss said. “He pointed out that if your little escapade had worked, then there would be no reason to suspend you. Can’t say I agree with that logic, but he also pointed out that you and Prince have the best track record for solving these spree killings and moving the case over to the New York office would delay resolution of this case. Unfortunately, I do agree with that, so you get to keep your job, but Bold, you are on ice so thin if you so much as sneeze, it’ll collapse underneath you. For the last time, get your shit together.”
“Yes, sir,” Faith said quietly.
“And get a handle on your K9. He should know better than to just rush after someone without a command to pursue.”
Faith’s jaw tightened slightly. “Yes, sir.”
