Faith moved on instinct, bringing her hands up to cover her head and diving to the side. Evans

  Hand sailed past where her jaw was a moment ago.

  Evans stepped toward Michael, who was still reeling from the first blow, but Turk leapt in front of him, growling and snapping. Evans frowned but kept a cautious distance from the dog, bouncing on his toes and testing Turk’s movements with quick right and left steps. Turk followed him closely, but there was a half-second gap between Evans’ movements and Turk’s responses.

  Evans noticed this and dove past Turk. Unfortunately for him, Michael had recovered. He dove for Evans knees, and Faith got to savor the look of utter shock that came to Evans face as the much smaller man picked him up off of the ground and dumped him on his back.

  As impressive as Michael’s wrestling was, Evans was still a danger off of his back. He brought his fist down hard on the back of Michael’s head. Michael’s grip loosened as the blow stunned him. Evans brought his fist up again to strike Michael and Faith leapt on top of his arm, trying to hold him down.

  She felt her body leave the ground and had just enough time to marvel at Evans’ strength before she found herself sailing through the air. Her training kicked in, and she was able to cover and roll when she hit the ground, but the impact still skinned her elbows and knees.

  She got up and saw that Turk was now holding the arm Evans had shaken free. Evans was trying to shake Turk off, but Michael had moved and now controlled his other arm, and Evans couldn’t pry himself loose.

  “Motherfucker!” he shouted. “Let go of me!”

  Faith drew her weapon and leveled it at Evans. “You’re coming dangerously close to being enough of a threat that I can justify using this. How far would you like to push things?”

  Evans stared at her, his face twisted in fury. Faith kept her gaze and her stance level, and finally, Evans relaxed. “Can you call your dog off of me?”

  “Sure,” Faith replied, “and you’ll calmly allow my partner to handcuff you. Otherwise, I fire this weapon.”

  Evans didn’t reply, but he remained calm as Faith called Turk off and Michael handcuffed him. A bump was forming over Michael’s right eye, and the left side of his jaw was swelling. Faith’s face, fortunately, had been spared damage, but her knees and elbows burned, and she could feel blood soak into her uniform. They would get Evans for two counts of assault on a peace officer and one of resisting arrest if nothing else.

  Evans tried to stand, but Faith shook her head. “No, you stay right there.”

  “You don’t want to take me to jail?” Evans asked.

  “We’ll get there.” To Michael, she said, “Call Fargo PD. We need a wagon for this one. Some ankle cuffs too.”

  Evans laughed and shook his head at the sky. “Come on,” he teased, “you’re afraid of little old me?”

  Michael ignored him and called for backup. Turk remained to the side of Evans, distant enough that Evans couldn’t reach him but close enough that he could leap into action if needed. Faith kept her weapon trained on Evans, but he seemed calm enough now that his hands were taken from him.

  She looked over at Michael to see him gingerly rubbing his jaw. He had a sour expression, and he looked so adorable that Faith had to stifle a laugh.

  The wagon arrived four minutes later. Sergeant Trent got out, his face dark. He approached Evans, and for a moment, Faith feared he would act rashly. “Let’s make this nice and easy,” she said, keeping her eyes on Evans but speaking for Trent’s benefit.

  Trent, fortunately, made no attempt to hurt Evans as he placed the ankle cuffs and led the big man to the wagon. Faith holstered her weapon and turned to Michael. “I’m impressed. I would have thought one of those blows would have knocked you out.”

  “Glad you enjoyed yourself,” Michael said sourly.

  She laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Just tell Ellie that you beat up a former heavyweight boxer. I’ll back you up.”

  “That is the exact worst thing I could do.”

  The three of them followed the police wagon back to the precinct. As the adrenaline from the fight wore off, both human agents started feeling the effects of the conflict. Michael closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, and every movement Faith made felt like sandpaper grating on her elbows and knees.

  Turk, on the other hand, seemed none the worse for wear and only panted a little as they headed back to the precinct. He wore his trademark wide grin, and his eyes were bright and alert. In spite of her discomfort, Faith smiled as well. After hitting roadblock after roadblock, she was confident that they had finally found their killer.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Evans chuckled. “Oh man. You guys are like the Keystone Kops, you know that?”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Faith replied.

  “Hey, how’s your friend?” Evans asked. “His head isn’t hurt too bad, is it?” He chuckled after that, but his chuckle stopped when Michael walked into the room. His head was bandaged, and the left side of his jaw was still swollen, but he looked better than he had when they arrived.

  “I’m good,” Michael said, the words coming out slightly slurred from the swelling in his jaw. “I sound like I had a few before I came here, but I’m good.” He took the seat next to Faith. “I gotta say, I would’ve thought a big guy like you would hit harder than that. Guess that’s why you never made it past the regional circuit.”

  “Oh yeah,” Evans said, his smile gone. “You’re a big, tough man, aren’t you?”

  "That's why you prefer girls? They don't fight back as hard?"

  “Take these chains off of me, boy, and we’ll see how hard I hit.”

  Faith rolled her eyes and gave Michael a look before turning back to Evans. “So you know why we’re here.”

  "Yeah, I know. You think I murdered people. I told you I didn't. You didn't believe me. I tried to fight my way out." He shrugged. "I lost. Three on one, and you had a dog. I can live with that."

  “Can you live with life in prison?” Faith asked. “Because if not, you should be trying to help us clear your name.”

  “You’re not here to clear my name,” Evans retorted. “You’re looking for a confession to a crime I didn’t commit.”

  Faith leaned forward and met Evans’ eyes. “We have substantial evidence that you were the killer.”

  “What evidence? I don’t even know these bitches.”

  “Is that like everyone’s favorite word here?” Michael asked.

  “Fine,” Evans said, rolling his eyes. “These ladies.”

  “To answer your question,” Faith replied. “All four victims adopted dogs from the Fargo Rescue Shelter and the Moorhead Animal Home. You volunteered for both shelters—after being fired from both of them—and you worked with all four of their dogs.”

  “I worked with all of the dogs,” he said, “so did a lot of people. Why aren’t you talking to them?”

  “You fit our profile,” Faith replied.

  “What profile? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You were the youngest of several children. Your family had a dog. You were abused as a child and disowned your family for that reason when you became an adult. In addition to your career as a boxer, you have several assaults on your record and one count of a criminal threat when you told your ex-girlfriend you would… I believe the exact phrasing was, ‘smash her bitch head like a balloon and make her new man watch.’”

  “Yeah, I was upset. She cheated on me with some bookie. I wanted to scare her, but I didn’t hurt her.”

  “We know,” Faith replied. “She moved to Arkansas with her new boyfriend to get away from you. She confirmed you never threatened her again, but she also confirmed that she felt you were very serious and would have carried out that threat.”

  “Well, she’s a lying whore, so…”

  “Well, your word isn’t going to be good enough,” Faith said. “So tell me about growing up.”

  “I’m not going to talk about that,” Evans replied. “It’s none of your business.”

  “I don’t need details on what happened to you,” Faith replied. “I just want to understand what might have motivated you to be so angry.”

  “Have you ever been arrested for a crime you didn’t commit?”

  “I’ve never tried to assault two FBI agents and a K9 unit at the same time. See, it’s one thing to be upset, Mr. Evans. It’s another thing to act on that feeling by becoming violent.”

  Evans laughed and shook his head. His smile was mirthful, but his eyes were hard. "You want to know what it was like growing up? I'll tell you. My name wasn't Jon. We'll start there. You know what my mother called me growing up? She called me little shit. I only ever heard her use my name when the preacher came to visit. The dog got to sleep inside. I had to sleep outside. My brothers and sisters were treated like kids. I was treated like trash. They got gifts for their birthdays. I don't even know when my real birthday is. I don't even know how fucking old I am. So am I violent? Hell yeah. If I wasn't violent, I'd be dead right now. I had to fight to stay alive. But did I murder people? No. I wouldn't put myself in prison just to hurt people. I've had enough of being locked in cages. I won't lie to you, I don't give a flying fuck about those dead girls. Life is hard. Everyone dies. Some people get to grow old. A lot of people don't. That's life. That's the way the world works. But I'm not the one who did it."

  Faith could almost feel sympathy for Evans, but not quite yet. Not after seeing what had happened to the murdered women. “Can you verify your whereabouts for last night?”

  “Last night? I was home. Where do you think I was?”

  “Can anyone confirm that you were home?” she asked.

  “No, I live alone.”

  “What about two nights ago?” Faith asked.

  “Home again. I don’t go out at night.” He grinned widely. “Too many people get killed that way.”

  “Four nights ago?”

  Evans chuckled. “Yeah, my alibi is I was at home. No, no one can confirm it. You can ask the neighbors, but I don’t exactly live in the town of brotherly love. It’s just my word against yours.”

  “Yeah, that’s a problem, Mr. Evans.”

  "Well, it's a problem I can't solve." Seeing the agents' expression, he added, "Like I said, some people get to grow old, some people don't. Some people get to grow old living their best life out with the beautiful people. Some people get to grow old in a cage, locked away, where everyone can pretend they don't exist. Guess I'm one of the unlucky ones." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, jutting his jaw out. "It doesn't matter. I ain't no bitch. Put me in prison. It's not all that much worse than the world outside. At least there, people will respect me."

  Faith sighed and looked at Michael. He shrugged slightly, and Faith nodded and turned back to Evans. “All right, Mr. Evans. Hang tight.”

  “Ain’t got a choice, do I?”

  The three agents left the interrogation room and headed to the observation room on the other side of the two-way mirror. Sergeant Trent met them with his arms folded. “He’s practically bragging about it,” he said, his fury barely contained.

  “He’s not bragging,” Michael replied. “He’s giving up.”

  “It’d be nice if he gave up by confessing,” Trent opined.

  “Unless he’s telling the truth,” Faith said.

  The other two looked at her. “You’re not saying you actually believe him, are you?” Trent asked.

  “No,” Faith said, “not yet.”

  “What does not yet mean?”

  “It means that we don’t have enough to satisfy me yet,” Faith replied. “He’s acting like it’s a foregone conclusion that he’ll be charged and convicted, but considering his past, it’s understandable he would feel that way. He believes that everyone will see him in the worst possible light, and he’s acting as though that’s already the case.”

  “So what do we do?” Trent asked irritably. “Just wait until we can prove he was there?”

  “If this goes to court, and all we have is circumstantial evidence, then it’s unlikely he’ll even make it to trial,” Faith pointed out. “Not to mention that if he’s not the killer, we’ll just be wasting time until the real killer strikes again.”

  Trent sighed and folded his arms, and Faith said, “I understand your frustration, Sergeant. I want this killer brought to justice too. I just want to make sure the right person receives that justice.”

  “You’re the one who identified him as a suspect,” Trent pointed out. “Now you’re having second thoughts?”

  “No,” Faith clarified. “I still feel he’s the most likely suspect, but I want to talk to him some more to make sure we’re on the right track.”

  “So talk to him. What are you doing in here talking my ear off?”

  “Take a breath, Sergeant,” Michael said. “We’re doing our jobs. If it bothers you this much, feel free to be somewhere else.”

  “Both of you take a breath,” Faith said. “We can’t afford to let our emotions get in the way at this stage.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Trent said, “you get to go home. This is my town. These are my people. Someone’s beating them to death, and I’m not in the mood to shuffle my feet and twiddle my thumbs waiting for something to happen.”

  “Are you in the mood to charge the wrong person and wait until someone finds another body?”

  Trent sighed and looked over Faith’s shoulder at the wall. After a moment, he shook his head.

  “All right, then,” Faith said. “Give us some time to work, please.”

  Trent nodded but kept his lips pressed tightly together. The three agents walked back into the interrogation room.

  "Well," Evans said drily. "If it isn't my three favorite people. How are you all doing?"

  “Have you ever heard of Cerberus?” Faith asked as she took her seat.

  “Cerberus? Isn’t he that dog from hell?”

  “That’s the one,” Faith replied. “Could you describe him to me?”

  Evans blinked. “You want me to describe a demon dog?”

  “Please.”

  He looked from Faith to Michael, and when he saw Michael’s expression, he said, “Oh, you guys are serious. Goddamn, you really are the Keystone Kops.”

  “Just answer the question, please,” Michael asked.

  Evans chuckled and rubbed his temples. “Oh man. This is lovely. I don’t know. He has red eyes. He breathes fire. Eats souls. Black fur, I’m assuming. Or wait, flaming fur. Like fire fur.”

  “How many heads does he have?”

  Evans blinked. “Heads? Does he have more than one? I don’t know, two?”

  Faith paid close attention to his expression as he answered the questions. He didn’t show any sign of lying. That didn’t mean that he didn’t know what the charms were, though. She pulled her phone from her pocket and navigated to a picture of the Cerberus charm she had taken from Rebecca Green’s crime scene.

  “Do you recognize this?” she asked, holding it up for Evans to see.

  He looked at it. “Oh, my bad. Three heads. Do I win a prize?”

  “Do you recognize this charm?”

  "No. Looks like something I saw at a stand in Hong Kong. You know, they have those street markets that sell a bunch of cheap shit for the tourists to buy. That looks like that. I'll bet you can get a case online for forty bucks."

  “This was found at each crime scene,” Faith replied. “You don’t know anything about that?”

  Evans rolled his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t? Kinda seems like you’ve already decided I’m your guy.”

  “Not quite,” Faith replied. “Are you a baseball fan, Mr. Evans?”

  “No, I watch basketball.”

  “Have you ever owned a baseball bat?”

  “No. What the hell kind of questions are these?”

  “You threatened to smash your ex-girlfriend’s head in,” Faith said, “what weapon would you have used to accomplish that?”

  “I wanted to scare her,” Evans said in a clipped tone. “I wouldn’t have actually acted on it.”

  “Let’s say you did.”

  “No, let’s not. Look, I don’t know how to convince you I didn’t kill them, but I didn’t. I don’t just go around hitting people.”

  “Hmm,” Michael said. “You hit me.”

  “You came to arrest me,” Evans countered.

  “Why did you resist?” Faith asked. “If you’re innocent, then why did you fight us?”

  “Do you believe I’m innocent?” Evans asked.

  “Please answer the question.”

  Evans chuckled and shook his head. "I fought back because I knew that you guys had already decided I was the murderer. I thought if I could get away, I could go to Canada or something, and maybe you guys wouldn't be able to track me down."

  “We would,” Michael replied. “We have a great relationship with the Canadian government. They would have found you and brought you right back to us.”

  “Well, good to know. Maybe I’ll learn Spanish and try Mexico next time.”

  “Why would we have already decided you’re the killer?” Faith asked. “Do you not think that we would do our due diligence in a murder investigation?”

  “I’m sure you think you would,” he replied, “but I think your preconceived notions got the best of you. I’ve learned the hard way not to trust others to be fair with me.” He leaned back. “Look, I’m done talking. I don’t have any way to prove I’m innocent. Fortunately, I’m innocent until proven guilty. So,” he lifted his hands and let them fall back onto the table, “prove me guilty.”

  Faith and Michael looked at each other. Then they stood and left the room. Trent waited for them in the observation room, arms still folded. “Well?” he asked.

  “Book him for assault on a peace officer and resisting arrest,” Faith said. “He might still be our guy, but we need to do more digging to know for sure. Let him stew in a cell for a little bit while Michael and I do some more looking.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18