After a full forty-eight hours that Kate spent in bed feeling sorry for herself and swearing at her gullibility, Kenny convinced her to leave the house and get some fresh air.
“It’ll do you good.”
Kate knew her uncle was right, but she upgraded her phone plan first, just so she’d have access to the Internet while he’d temporarily booted her out of the house.
She decided to head toward Jamaica Pond and take in the serene atmosphere of nature for a change. If only the department had cleared her for work… Patrol would help take her mind off of Matt.
But ducks would have to do for today.
Even though every couple that walked by caused a pinch in her heart, she pushed through. She walked until she came to a bench that was unoccupied.
She sat. She inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to allow tears to come out once more.
Her eyes lingered on the pond that stretched in front of her. Off to one side, the path continued, with a few people feeding ducks about a hundred yards away.
Ducks. These ones had obviously been lucky enough to have been spared by the animal killer, whoever he was.
Weren’t ducks fortunate creatures? They didn’t have to deal with heartbreaks and deception. But who knows… Maybe ducks had relationships, too. Kate had no idea.
She let her gaze rest on one particularly brave duck who was making its way toward a man holding a large piece of food.
From where she sat, Kate couldn’t tell if it was bread or something else, but it was definitely large for a breadcrumb. Then she wondered why the man wore gloves. It wasn’t cold at all.
Then she noticed the red shoes he wore.
I’ve seen those shoes before.
But the man’s face wasn’t visible from where Kate sat. She could, however, see his blond hair. Although he was hunched over, she’d guess he was around six-feet tall. Based on how his clothes hung off of him, with the loose fabric of his sleeves flapping in the wind, the man was scrawny.
When a memory flashed through her mind, she pulled out her phone, found Johnston among her contacts, and sent him a message:
The video from your son with dead pigeons.
Can you forward it to me?
A minute later, her phone beeped.
She watched the clip and saw bright red shoes. Although she couldn’t tell for sure the shoes were the same from this far away, how many people wore red freaking shoes nowadays?
Then she remembered the dead cat and the chubby woman who’d called 9-1-1 instead of 3-1-1. Among the group of bystanders that had gathered around the cat… That’s where she’d seen him before. That’s where she’d seen Scott!
Kate knew full well that killers and other sociopaths often revisited crime scenes. Scott had stuck around. With the pigeons, and with the cat.
Could it be?
Then Kate shook her head. She had no real evidence. Red shoes and wrong place at the wrong time. Coincidences.
But then she thought of the animal shelter. She looked through her call history, found the number, and waited as the ringtone sounded again and again. Finally, someone answered.
“Hi, this is going to sound strange, but could you tell me if you’ve noticed an increase in the number of deaths at the MSPCA?”
“Who’s this?” the receptionist asked.
“My name’s Kate Murphy.”
“Are you with the press?”
“No, no. I just want to know, out of curiosity.”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer this question, but if you leave your name and number, I can have someone call you back.”
Kate did just that, all the while thinking that the receptionist’s answer was a cover-up until a trained PR person could answer it without incriminating anyone. So, Kate read the response as a “more than likely.”
In the distance, the brave duck reached Scott and snapped the food offering into its beak before taking it down to the ground. The morsel was big but obviously tasty based on how intently the duck ate it.
The duck’s head bobbed strangely as it finally swallowed the bite then walked back toward the pond and its feathered mates.
A nearby boy who’d seen the exchange between Scott and the duck approached Scott.
Probably wants to feed the ducks, too.
Kate was pretty sure the MSPCA wouldn’t call her back right away, but she couldn’t resist following up on her suspicions.
It could be.
What if?
Her thumb flew across the screen as she researched what the animal missing from the pet store was. After Google reported that blue kraits were striped snakes from Malaysia, she looked into the effects of their venom. Then she googled tarantula bites.
Fucker.
While she had no idea if the man owned a gun, he certainly had access to the venom. And with his experience handling exotic snakes and spiders, he probably knew how to extract it. He could have stolen those animals. Then it was just a matter of putting the venom into food.
Kate looked up again and saw Scott talking to the boy, offering him a piece of whatever he had in his plastic bag. The two appeared to be chatting, pointing at the ducks on the pond. Kate couldn’t hear what they were saying, but her instincts told her Scott was up to no-good.
She texted Johnston again.
I think I found him. The animal killer.
What?
Come to Jamaica Pond ASAP.
He’s here.
Near the boathouse.
She knew the park was outside their district, but she was off duty. Calling 9-1-1 and trying to explain herself would be a waste of time. Johnston could do a lot more and a lot faster than she could right now.
And as she brought her eyes up from her device, she spotted the boy about to put the food into his mouth.
“No, drop that!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, which made her cough. Her vocal chords hadn’t fully healed just yet.
The man turned toward her, and so did the boy. Thankfully, he obeyed, but the man took off running, leaving the bag behind.
She jumped up and began pursuit. “Stop, now!” she yelled as she followed the path and started to bridge the hundred-yard gap between them.
A few seconds later, she bent down to pick up the bag he’d dropped earlier, and then continued. While her broken ribs hurt like hell, she pushed through the pain. She made good progress. Sure, her pace was nowhere near her regular performance, but she was steadily gaining on him.
Fifty yards.
“Scott! Drop to the ground. Now!”
But he didn’t. Instead, his body knocked over a woman coming from the opposite direction.
Shit. Hope she’s okay, Kate thought before ignoring her and refocusing on Scott, now thirty yards ahead.
When he stumbled, Kate seized the opportunity and tackled him, which made her yelp in pain. It hurt worse than hell this time.
“Shit!” she swore as she used the weight of her body to pin Scott on the ground, face-first. She dropped the bag she’d been carrying so that she could clutch her ribs.
Fuck that hurts.
She coughed.
Maybe the doc had a point when he said I wasn’t ready for duty yet.
“Will you get off me?” Scott said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Is that so?” Kate said, realizing that passersby had stopped to stare. A young man had his cellphone out in front of him, more than likely recording what was happening.
I certainly hope I’m right, Kate thought to herself just as a broad-shouldered patrol officer on a bicycle arrived at the scene.
“What’s going on here?” he asked authoritatively.
Kate raised both her hands in the air but stayed atop Scott.
“Ma’am, can you please get off of him?”
“I’m Officer Murphy from C-11,” she said looking at the officer’s nametag, which read Harrison. “I’m off duty, but I believe this is the man we’ve all been looking for. The one who’s been killing animals in and around Boston. I can get off of him, but I don’t want him to get away. I’m in no condition to try and catch him if he runs again.”
Harrison frowned at her before reaching for his shoulder radio. A minute or so later, after some back and forth with his supervisor, Officer Harrison proceeded to cuff Mr. Scott.