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“That’s not even the best part,” Missy said. “Get this. Carter was a history professor at the University of Texas in Austin, but he quit after Mandy died. Guess what job he took?”
“What?”
“Night watchman at a cemetery. Specifically the Herbert Walker Memorial Lawn. He’s worked there the past ten years.”
“Beautiful,” Michael said. “What’s his home address?”
Missy gave them the address and Faith punched it into the GPS. “Okay, we can be there in fifteen minutes,” Faith said.
“We can be there in ten,” Missy said, “you want us to wait for you?”
“Hell no. If you see him, keep him there until we can get there to talk to him, but don’t wait for us before you stop him.”
“You got it, baby doll.”
Faith tried not to allow herself to get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help it. This one felt different from the others. Maybe it was because for the first time they had a connection to the victimsandthe MO. Maybe it was just a hunch. Either way, she felt that somehow this one was more real than the others, more likely to be their guy.
They rushed to the home, and Faith took deep breaths to stay calm. It wouldn’t do for her to get overexcited and lose her composure. She glanced over at Michael to see the same practiced calm on his face. In between them, Turk’s head was lifted and alert, and his tail switched back and forth again. She wondered when he had picked up that habit. Maybe he had always had it, and she just recently noticed.
She reached down and scratched him in between his ears. “Almost done, boy.”
She knew it was too soon to say that, but this one really did feel different. God, she wanted this to be over.
They reached the address in fifteen minutes, as promised, but when they arrived, Missy met them outside the house with a grim expression.
“He’s not home. I called his job, and they said he doesn’t start until midnight.”
The graveyard shift. The irony wasn’t lost on Faith.
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “That’s fine. Let’s clear the area and have a few unmarked cars stake the house out. Michael and I will split up and take some officers to search cemeteries in the area. Better yet, let’s put out an APB and get the whole department on it. He’s probably staking out his next scene. We’ll put his description out there, and hopefully someone will…”
Her voice trailed off when she saw a beat-up white van turn down the street, then stop when it saw the police cars. She caught a brief glimpse of the driver and saw the expression of shock on his face. Then his eyes narrowed.
“That’s him!” Faith called. “Stop that van!”
She, Michael, and Turk sprinted toward their own car as the driver of the white van spun the wheel. The van skidded as he turned around, but before he could accelerate away from his pursuers, two police cruisers came barreling around the other corner and slammed into the van from the front. He started to reverse, and Faith and Michael dove to the side to avoid the crash.
Faith looked up to see Missy standing with her gun drawn, an old blue steel revolver that looked exactly like what a detective in Texas should carry. She took careful aim at the van’s tires and cracked off six shots. Faith heard the pops where they impacted, but the van continued to reverse. Carter backed up until he reached the next street corner, then tried to spin around and head toward the main road. When he spun, his damaged tires finally blew. The van careened to one side, hovered lazily in the air for a moment, then came back down on its wheels.
The driver’s door flew open and a huge man climbed out of the van and began to sprint away with explosive speed.
Not as explosive as Turk. The big dog rushed after him, barking and growling. Carter turned toward the German shepherd, then stopped and squared his stance, preparing to fight Turk. A crazed grin spread across his face and he lifted his fists.
An image flashed through Faith’s mind of Trammell, wearing his own grin, raising a spade over his head moments before splitting Turk’s skull with it. She drew her handgun and shouted, “Stand down or I’ll fucking kill you!”
The suspect looked up at Faith, eyes widened in shock at the vehemence of the command. After a moment, he straightened and raised his hands over his head. “I surrender!” he called.
Turk leapt into the air and planted all four feet squarely on his chest, throwing him to the ground. Carter landed with a grunt and kept his hands extended over his head, grinning in spite of Turk’s snarling face inches from his own.
Faith arrived a moment later and got her first good look at the man she was now sure was their killer. He was in phenomenal shape. He looked like a powerlifter, with massive shoulders and tree trunks for legs. More tellingly, he was covered in dirt.
He grinned at her and said cheekily, “Good evening, ma’am. Can I help you with something?”
“Where is the victim?” Faith asked immediately.
He lifted one hand and waggled a finger to correct her. “Target.”
One of the officers caught up and turned Carter over, pulling first one hand behind his back, then the other, handcuffing him. Carter didn’t resist, which was probably a good thing. It would take a half-dozen Tasers to put him down. Looking at him, she wasn’t surprised at all that he could dig a grave and bury a body in a coffin singlehandedly and then fill the grave all in a single night. He probably didn’t even break a sweat doing it.
