Page 48 of So Lethal

“Maybe the killer was in both places, though. Maybe he attended the trial and the support group.”

“We know he didn’t attend the support group, though. No one there matches your description of the killer.”

Faith frowned. “Right. Maybe he was at the career day and Dr. Crane’s trial.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Michael said.

“At the career day, yes, but not at the clinical trial. We can start with the trial, filter out anyone who doesn’t match the description, and then see if anyone remaining was at the career day. It’s probably not going to be a large number. There aren’t a lot of people six-four plus in the world.”

Faith nodded. “Okay, good. We’ll start there.”

“How do we get the info on the people in the clinical trial, though? The Auditory Research Center is shut down, and I don’t think Dr. Crane is going to be very excited to talk to us.”

“He’s not going to have a choice unless he wants to catch another obstruction charge.”

“He can cry HIPAA and make us go through the process,” Michael countered. He pulled open his laptop. “Let me see if I can get the records from the Board of Audiology.”

While Michael did that, Faith looked at Turk. The big dog was sleeping now that his meal was finished. His muzzle was a little grayer, but he was still sleek and strong. He was nearly ten years old now, almost a year older than the mandatory retirement age for FBI K9 units. She had fought hard to get permission to keep him on active duty, but there was no hiding from the fact that he would be too old eventually.

The two of them had been working together for over three years. She hoped they could work together for another three years, but still, how did the time go so fast?

Her heart ached. Dogs didn’t live long enough. Ten to thirteen years on average for German Shepherds, and if they made fifteen, that was considered exceptional.

It wasn't long enough. They were such perfect, pure, beautiful creatures. If anything, they should be the ones with long lifespans, and people should be the ones granted a decade and change.

She chuckled at that. The noise made Turk’s ear prick up but when no potentially threatening sound reached his ears, he lowered it again. Listen to me. Acting like a crazy cat lady.

Still, she wasn’t looking forward to the day when she would have to say goodbye to her best friend. Whether it was three years from now or five years from now or ten years from now, it would be too soon.

“Got it,” Michael said. “See? The Board’s not going to jerk us around.”

She turned back to the laptop and looked at the information Michael had. All but one of the subjects were under six feet and could be immediately dismissed, but one, Carl Sampson, was six-foot-four and a sleek two hundred ten pounds with ten percent body fat.

She smiled and said, “Wonderful. Now we call the community center.”

“Are they going to have someone there this late?”

She shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. They don’t close for another twenty minutes.”

He shook his head. “It’s crazy that they’re open so late. When I was a kid, we had the old community center, and that place was locked by six o’clock.”

“Times change, old man.”

He smiled sweetly and lifted a finger. She chuckled and dialed the number.

A moment later, a bored-sounding woman who was probably barely old enough to qualify as an adult replied, “Thank you for calling the South Bay Community Center, this is Rose, how may I help you?”

“Rose, this is Special Agent Faith Bold with the FBI. I need your help with a case.”

Rose sighed. “Jenna, I swear to God, if you’re prank-calling me at work again—”

“Not a prank call,” Faith interrupted. “Look up the FBI ID check database. When you’re ready, I’ll read you mine, and you can verify that I am who I say I am.”

After a brief pause, Rose said warily, “All right.” A slightly longer pause, then. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Faith read her the ID number. A third brief pause followed, then Rose gasped. “Oh my God! Oh, this is about that woman who was killed the other day, right?”

“Yes. I need your help verifying something for me.”

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