Authors: Carolyn Arnold
We finally had enough to move in on Larson. He used to have a dog named Molly, just like Bailey had, and had lived in the neighborhood at the same time as Bailey’s murder. If that wasn’t enough, Bailey worked for Larson’s father’s construction company.
Larson had a connection to and reason to hate and frame Fields. He would have had an intimate knowledge of the animal abuse cases. He had volunteered with the animal shelter and attempted to strangle a man who had abused an animal. And, the latest results, he owned a GMC Sierra that could be connected to the chrome paint found at Ellis
’s crime scene and his uncle owned the garage. Paige and
agents from the local field office and officers from PD stood vigilant there while they waited on the warrant to come through. Jack, Zachery, and I headed to Larson’s home, with additional backup, as we already had the necessary clearance for there.
Local PD confirmed that Larson was home and we were getting ready to move in. The pickup was tucked away in the garage.
I banged on the front door. Jack stood beside me.
“FBI, open up!”
Zachery was around the back side of Larson
’s house with a local agent.
Squad cars had cordoned off the street. A couple were in front of the place, being used as shields to the officers who held their guns ready to fire.
“Open up! FBI!” I banged again.
Footsteps inside the house vibrated the front porch.
The door handle twisted. I steadied my weapon and both of us had our guns trained on Larson when he opened the door.
“What are you do—”
I spun him around and worked at getting cuffs on him.
“You are under arrest for the murder—”
“Are you kidding me? What are you talking about?”
Jack pressed the arrest warrant against Larson’s torso, and with both hands secured behind his back, the papers fell to the floor.
I handed Larson over to an agent from the local field office and hurried through the house.
“Where is Howell?”
Larson had an odd grin on his face.
“Never mind, we’ll find him.”
We worked our way through the house. Calls of “A
ll clear” kept working their way over the coms.
I went back to Larson, who was being held inside his front door. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up to meet my face. “Where is he?”
“This is going to make one interesting story.”
I tightened my grip. “Do you think this is funny? That it’s a joke?”
“Let him go, Brandon,” Jack ordered
.
I let Larson go, reluctantly.
Jack swooped past me and pulled Larson to a couch and threw him down.
Any amusement over the situation had left Larson
’s face. Anger replaced it.
“Where is Howell?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?”
“I’m not asking again.”
“You think I killed those people?” Larson laughed. “I was never popular, but I didn’t resort to killing.” Hysteria took over and had tears pouring down his cheeks.
Jack shook him.
“You used to have a dog named Molly.”
“Is that a crime?”
“Ken Bailey was murdered in this neighborhood twenty-six years ago.”
“Good for him.”
“You did it. Did he kill Molly? Is that why you killed him?”
Larson
’s face paled.
“Speak, Larson. You’re facing multiple counts of—”
“I think I know who the killer is.” Larson’s tongue sounded thick as if he barely held down bile.
“Agent Harper?” A local field agent came into the living room.
“The pickup’s clear. There’s no damage to the hitch.”
“You think I dragged Ellis with my truck?” Larson shook his head fiercely. “It wasn’t me. But I told you. I think I know who did it.”
My cell rang and it was Paige. The warrant had come through for the garage. “I’d be wiping that smirk off your face, Larson. We’ve got you.”
“I can’t believe he’d do this, but then again, life wasn’t kind to him until a few years back when he won the lottery. Before that, as an adult, he didn’t amount to much.” Larson mumbled almost incoherently.
“Did you hear him, Larson? Time is up,” Jack said.
“Gregory Ford.”
“That’s Bailey’s cousin,” Zachery said.
Larson looked past Jack to Zachery.
“That’s right.”
“Why would he kill his cousin?”
“That’s the best part right there.” Larson chewed the inside of his lip.
He swallowed and his eyes sought out mine.
“Bailey killed Ford’s dog when they were both kids.”
“He killed his cousin’s dog?”
“Yeah, I saw it with my own eyes. It was horrible. Ken had it hanging from the leash and walked it right up to Greg. He was laughing as he did it.”
“Shit.” The word escaped my lips.
Zachery stepped forward a few feet. “Why name the dog you had Molly?”
“That was the name of Greg’s dog. The one that was killed. It affected more than one kid. I wasn’t moved to retaliation.”
“What about your uncle’s garage?” I asked, on a hunch.
“What about it?”
“Is there any way that Gregory Ford would have access to it?”
“Yeah, of course. I gave him a key years ago. During the winter months, I know he goes there and tinkers.”
They had received the all clear, but Paige’s feet remained grounded. She assessed the amount of fire power around her. Between the local field agents and PD officers, they could have blown the garage into the sky. But, she was in charge here and they would do things her way. If they moved too quickly, lives could be needlessly lost.
“All right, we go in—front and back. Split up and keep on guard.” She took one step and her phone rang. Its trill had her heart thumping. The men stopped all movement and looked at her. She should have had the volume off, but ID confirmed it was a call she needed to answer. “Jack?”
His message caused her stomach to swirl. They were now after a man by the name of Gregory Ford. He wasn’t at his home. That meant only one thing.
In the building, mere feet away there was a serial killer and, likely, his latest victim. Something about getting to this point never got easier. To face the monsters who inflicted torture and murder was always a surreal encounter—a sick darkness hung in the air and threatened to suffocate her.
While still on the line with Jack, she heard the ding of an incoming message and guessed it was a picture of Ford.
“We’re on it, Boss.” She hung up, hoping that her training didn’t fail her in this time of need.
*****
“You know your actions brought this upon you,” the Advocate said through the speaker system he had installed.
“What?”
He laughed.
“You’re kidding me. You don’t know why you’re here. You are obtuse. You hurt and killed an innocent dog. They are man’s best friend. You took his trust and twisted it to your advantage. You worked out your satanic thoughts.”
Nothing.
“What, no response?”
Sweat glistened on the Offender’s body. His clothing was soaking wet. His body swayed and he opted to sit down on the floor.
“It won’t be long and you’ll have paid for your sins.”
*****
“We go in on my mark,” Paige said.
One of the local agents had already picked the lock. Paige raised three fingers and when all were down,
they breeched the garage.
She followed. “FBI!”
Inside, it was dimly lit but there was a GMC Sierra pickup. As the agents and officers spread out in the space, she went to the vehicle. Crouched near the trailer hitch, she swept her flashlight over it. Chrome paint was missing.
Her heart beat against her ribs. Adrenaline fused with fear but initialized forward momentum.
“We’ve got the right guy.” A voice came over the coms and it must have been one of the local agents. “There’s a shrine out back for a dog named Molly.”
That’s not all they had. She hurried through the building, sweeping her light in large arcs as she moved. Her eyes caught something.
The other agents moved around, clearing the bays, but her attention was on a door. It sat crooked on its hinges and was slightly open.
As s
he moved toward it, she had that sinking feeling. What would she find when she opened it? It didn’t appear access a room on the main level. A basement? Below ground never held anything good. She pushed through her trepidation. She owed it to the reputation of Jack’s team.
She swung it open, her attention steadied ahead of her, but she heard others rush behind her. She balanced her gun and the flashlight, but it was no longer needed. A bright glow illuminated the base of the stairs. She moved toward the light.
There was man in a glass box. He looked near death, but it wasn
’t Howell.
Ford stood to the side of him, and when he saw her, lifted his gun on the man.
Paige held her firearm steady. “Put down your weapon.”
Ford shook his head. “He is guilty and needs to pay for what he’s done.”
Paige’s eyes went to the man. If they didn’t get him out of there soon, this wouldn’t be a rescue anymore. “I said put down your weapon.”
Ford smirked and twisted his body to face the man.
She heard agents and officers come down the stairs behind her. She squeezed the trigger.
The bullet struck Ford in his arm, causing his hand to release his weapon.
“No,” he cried while cradling his wound. “He must pay!”
He was a man gone mad, the look in his eyes burrowed into Paige’s mind. He took fast steps toward the box and the heater.
“Stop!” Paige solidified her stance. She was prepared to shoot him again. The placement of this one would inflict more damage.
She knew all the other law enforcement personnel around her had their guns readied and aimed on Ford as well. If she wanted Ford to survive to pay for his crimes, she’d have to figure out a way to talk the situation down.
She lowered her weapon. “I can understand why you don’t like these men.”
Ford stopped moving. “I hate them.”
“For what they do to their animals, they need to pay.”
“Yes. I am the Advocate for the Defenseless.”
This man had managed to give full logic to his actions. His assigned terms further confirmed his justification. “But what if they are innocent?”
“The Offenders are not!” He swooped to the floor, his good arm reaching for his weapon.
The bullet caught him in the upper chest and jolted him back.
His eyes enlarged as he collapsed to the floor. His gaze, as it fell on Paige, held great sadness.
A local field agent, who had fired the last round, secured Ford, while others rushed to get the man out of the box.
“Paige.”
She spun to see Brandon coming down the stairs and the rest of the team following behind him.
Their faces were a welcome sight among this hell hole.
*****
Investigators worked over the garage and its property. It seemed Ford did more than “tinker” there. Dogs were brought in and bodies were uncovered in the back. I had no doubt they would be Garner and Ball from years ago. A freezer in the basement held the bodies of Lyons, and someone they guessed to be Howell—the latter was deformed by acid.
The man in the glass box was Marshall Quinn and he was a prick…maybe it was the heat? When we freed him, he had said ‘about time.’ I had a feeling being a jerk was in his nature as no one had reported him missing.
It was later confirmed that Ford had rented a red Nissan and this is what he used when kidnapping Ellis.
Although he could have afforded to buy his own as Ford had won the lottery two years back, netting himself a few million after taxes. So even if he didn’t know each of his victims, they could have recognized his face from the paper or the local news. His background showed he had attended Stanford University, the same as Fields and Larson, but never graduated. He went on to take odd jobs, but never settled in a career.
A hunch I had paid off when I called Nadia to inquire about Simpson
’
s drinking buddies. Ford drank on Wednesdays like Simpson and Larson. Nadia also
found out that Ford’s mother worked for Denver PD at the time Lyons was charged. Coincidently, she was the one who wrote up the charges against him.
“I still can’t believe Ford had his mother get rid of the charges against Lyons,” I said.
“Ford wanted to be the one to exact punishment, not the courts,” Paige said. “Typically all they get are some monetary fines and brief probations. Ford wanted more for Lyons, for all of them.”
I wondered why Ford had waited so long to act out against Lyons—or against any of them for that matter. Maybe it was to place more distance between him and them? He must have been able to resist the urge to kill, at first. I wondered what had triggered him to start again.
Ford was questioned in his hospital room and he never bothered to deny the allegations. He said it was Ken Bailey’s fault for killing his
dog as a kid. Ford had never forgotten.
He had said, “When I showed up at that house, a dog tied up on a short leash to the back deck, out in the freezing cold of winter, and he answered the door. He deserved it.” Ford nodded. “Yes, he deserved it. I knew then what I had to do with my life.”
“Why frame Fields?” Jack asked.
Ford laughed.
“He took everything away from me. I was trying to turn my life around. He took credits for the papers I wrote. He got that job I deserved with the paper because he cheated his way through life. I hoped he would go down for this, but he got what he earned in the end anyway—death. Then I thought I’d frame that kid at the paper, Turner. It was even better when you looked at Larson. The guy’s a real loser. The sucker actually thought we were friends.” A sick smile lit his face. “That night I killed Ken, I was working on what would have been the best piece I’d ever written.”
“Ken Bailey was your cousin.” I don’t know why I attempted to appeal to his humanity.
It warranted a shrug. “We didn’t stay in touch. He never even recognized me when I was at his door. Family isn’t based on blood and species.”
“Why did you start killing again in two thousand nine?”
“Who said I stopped?”
The truth was in his eyes. He was attempting to mislead me into thinking he had continued killing after Bailey, but our investigation didn’t show any evidence of that. “Why Dean Garner?”
“I was rethinking my life and realized I had nothing going for me. Nothing at all. Then I remembered what I was good at. When I took Ken’s life I felt justified and had made a difference. I remembered reading about Garner in the paper. It was time for him to pay.”
Something still wasn’t settling for me. Garner was two thousand and nine. Ball was one year later, but his recent victims followed after four years, taking place in rapid succession.
“You try to control your urge to kill.”