Page 6 of So Lethal

“No, we got that out of the way earlier.”

“Yeesh. My fault for asking. See you in a bit.”

He hung up, and Faith returned to the living room. “Sorry, David. That was Michael. We have a case.”

He smiled wryly. “Oh yeah, I can tell you’re sorry. It was the grin that gave it away.”

Heat climbed her cheeks. “Well, to be honest, I am also excited to have something to do. It’s been over a month since my last case, and since my efforts with the messenger have yielded nothing, I might as well catch another bad guy while I’m waiting.”

“That’s the spirit.” He got to his feet and kissed her softly. “Go get ‘em, baby.”

She kissed him back just under his jaw. “I will. And I will come back and happily give you some more of the sexy time we got to have today.”

He chuckled. “Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”

She kissed him a final time, then said, “Hey Turk, guess what? We get to go catch another bad guy.”

Turk barked excitedly. Faith crouched low and pulled him into a bear hug. The discomfort that lingered in her mind after her therapy session dissipated. She was back in her element.

CHAPTER THREE

Faith, Turk, and Michael arrived at Monica Smith’s studio in San Jose at six in the morning. Two officers were still at the scene, a uniformed sergeant and a plainclothes detective. The detective glanced at their FBI IDs and offered them a half-wave for a greeting.

“Detective Ferris,” he said, sticking out a hand with the most impressively thick fingers Faith had ever seen.

“Special Agent Faith Bold,” Faith replied. “This is my partner Special Agent Michael Prince and my K9 unit Turk.”

Turk barked formally. Ferris nodded at him, then gestured for the three of them to follow him through the gate. “Cooper, watch the door, yeah? Make sure no looky-loos come inside.”

The street was completely empty, but Cooper nodded and said, “You got it, Ferris.”

Just inside the gate was a small yard that looked like it was used for storage. Canvases were stacked under the eaves, and cans of paint were lined up on either side of the steps that led into the unit. Other materials—clay, marble and half-finished bronze statues—stood at odd places along the poured concrete panels that formed the yard.

“I thought she was a graphic designer,” Michael asked.

“She was,” Ferris replied. “She did creative art on the side.”

“Got it.”

Faith and Turk moved immediately to the most conspicuous object in the yard, a chalk outline where a few hours ago the San Jose Police Department had found Monica’s body. Turk put his nose to the ground and began sniffing for clues. Faith had already picked up a few of her own.

“No blood?” she asked.

"No. The cause of death was asphyxiation by strangulation. The killer wore gloves and used a latex rubber ligature. ME thinks a tourniquet."

“Any sign of a struggle?”

"No defensive wounds," Ferris replied. Looks like she scratched at his face, but he wore a ski mask. Fibers come back as bargain-basement polyester, the type you can grab for five bucks out of a bin at your local Wal-Mart. I said it was quick, though. Unconscious in five seconds. The ligature was pulled very tight."

Faith’s eyes traveled over the outline. “He laid her down carefully. Arms and legs don’t fall straight like that.”

“Yeah, we figured he was trying to avoid noise?”

Faith shook her head. “Maybe, but that’s not all of it. Laying her down like that suggests care.”

“You think it was a boyfriend or something?”

“Let’s get a little more info before we decide on an avenue of investigation,” Faith replied. “What time was the body discovered?”

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