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CHAPTER NINE

NED

The next morning Lennox called a conference in the press room, where Ned and Scarlett had already been busy putting up photos and notes from the Fincher and Sota crime scenes along with arrows and scribbling on the whiteboard showing the similarities between the two cases, including the incriminating two lists of the ten commandments.

"We believe these two victims, Conrad Fincher and Hugo Sota, were both killed by the same person" Ned explained, pointing in turn to each victim. "Our main link is this" he put a paw pad on the ten commandments list "which was found on each victim. Also, each of the victims was gay."

"They were killed in different ways" Milo pointed out.

Scarlett nodded. "That is true. Fincher died from a bullet to the head and Sota from a knife wound."

"You don't even know where or how exactly the jaguar died" Jason argued. "You're grabbing at straws."

"Actually, we aren't" Arkady joined his two protégées. "We found Sota's surfboard last night. It had been lugged up into the dunes north of the parking lot and had some sand hastily thrown over it. Not only that, but there's new evidence on the body that suggests the victim did return to the parking lot before he died. Carmen?"

The swift fox stood up, adjusting her square glasses. "First of all. Examination of the body shows the victim suffered a blow to the head shortly before he was killed. Some kind of flat object, probably wooden - a board, maybe. Whatever it was, it was enough to knock him out, for a few minutes, at least."

Around the room, ears pricked with interest. "So he probably never saw his killer" Montoya mused thoughtfully. "Got bashed over the head from behind, probably."

"Probably" Carmen agreed. "There was a lot of sand ingrained in the fur of his lower back and tail, and in the pockets and creases of his swim trunks. From being dragged down to the surf, presumably."

Ned had already heard this earlier, but nonetheless his mind formulated a story of Hugo Sota's last hour. The jaguar had finished his surfing and walked back to the parking lot, only to find that his otter friends hadn't returned for him - they were still back at the bar getting drunk and high. Perhaps Sota had sat down to wait for them. Whatever the case, sometime later he'd been hit with something hard, probably from behind, and had then been dragged down to the surf where-

"That's why we didn't find blood" his ears went up. "The killer dragged Sota into the water before he cut his throat, so the blood would wash away."

Diego nodded. "That almost sounds symbolic, killing a surfer in the surf."

"I wondered about that," Arkady murmured. "The thing is, this guy doesn't seem like a premeditated murder. I looked into his record last night and except for surfing fans, he's a nobody - there was an article about him in a sports magazine about a month ago, but the average citizen isn't going to read those."

Scarlett was looking at the board thoughtfully. "If we go with the theory that this is a hate crime; that these two were targeted specifically because they were gay-" she paused. "Maybe the killer just started researching gay athletes. Just picking one who happened to be in this city at the right time."

Ned decided that was a good moment to bring up what had occurred to him the night before. "Taking into account that both our victims are gay and that both of them were found with a list of the Ten Commandments - plus this new commandment against gayness - with a different commandment highlight for each victim - could it be possible that the killer plans to kill eleven victims, each one symbolising a different 'sin'?" The words felt rushed as they tumbled from his muzzle, his tail slipping self-consciously between his legs. This was a big chance he was making; suggesting something such as this, because that would entail a serial killer was on the loose.

Nobody said anything for a moment, and Ned wondered if he'd been too bold. But then Lennox, who hadn't spoken since the conference had begun, cocked her head thoughtfully and spoke. "Given the evidence, a decent argument could be made for such a theory, although I must say I hope we aren't dealing with something that big."

Ned felt his ears and tail relaxing at this acceptance of his idea. "Of course," Lennox was saying, "I'd like to be positive we can catch this killer before he kills again. Which begins with identifying him. Arkady, do we have any links between the victims beyond those on the board?"

The fox shook his head. "None whatsoever. Sota's a blank page."

"How so?"

"He's got practically no record at all. He's from Hawaii, but I've not been able to learn where he came from before that" Arkady explained seriously. "I don't think he was born in the States. Either way. He has a mother in Honolulu but otherwise, no family, no friends, no contacts. The only place his name shows up is in surf competition records."

"What about those otters?" Lennox asked. "I thought they were his friends."

"Only acquaintances. I gathered they knew each other from surfing, but not well."

But that was superficial, Ned thought. "If the killer is just picking victims based on their orientation, it won't matter whether the victims knew each other, or whether they knew the killer," he argued. "As long as they're gay, they're a go."

Maybe that was out of line too, but Lennox just frowned. "You may be right, but that will make our job much more difficult."

Which was true.

The meeting broke up a few minutes later, but after most of the officers had filed out, Ned realised that Arkady and Diego were holding back, and he grabbed Scarlett's arm and pulled her over to join the fox and wolfdog. "I've got some info on fuckin' Adam Johnson" Diego muttered darkly, tossing a brown folder on the conference table. "Not that this gets us anywhere, though."

Arkady flicked an ear, taking the folder. "Just one piece of the puzzle." He pulled a sheet of papers halfway out and skimmed them. "Can you give us a brief summery?"

Over the fox's shoulder Ned could see that the folder contained a variety of scrawled notes in Diego's untidy handwriting, mixed with news article printouts and what looked like a Wikipedia page, also printed. "Well," Diego was brushing his ears and mane back carelessly with a paw, looking gorgeous, probably for Scarlett's benefit. He always did have to act like there was a crowd of admirers circling him.

"Senator Adam Johnson is a Republican from Tennessee, the senior senator from that state. He's served three complete terms and is now two years into his fourth." He paused, spreading one of the articles with a paw. "No surprise, he was originally a minister, and lived in Memphis for some years as the pastor of a Baptist church there. Eventually though - well, he claims God commanded him to leave the ministry to become a politician, because he believes that America is losing sight of its vision."

"That explains all the religious rhetoric" Scarlett muttered.

"How popular is he?" Arkady inquired.

Diego shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. He's hugely popular with the religious right, especially in the South. Some of them have taken to calling him 'The Prophet."' That reminded Ned of the end of Johnson's speech the day before. Some of his supporters had been shouting that, "The Prophet Adam," or some other such nonsense. "Elsewhere, not so much" Diego was still talking. "No surprise he's extremely unpopular with Democrats and disliked by independents, and in recent years he's alienated a significant portion of his own party. The Republican establishment doesn't support him because they feel he's a loose cannon, and the libertarian branch of the party hates him because of his religious obsession and the anti-gay agenda."

"That's his signature political focus?" Ned guessed. Of course, that was pretty obvious. He now remembered hearing Johnson's name elsewhere, in news articles concerning politics, and in media concerning LGBT rights.

Diego twisted a paw in kind of a sort-of gesture. "Eh, to some extent. It seems like that because of all the media attention his group, TMF, gets. They've got a fuck-ton of members. In the millions. But he's also into other stuff. Typical religious right opinions - he wants prayer in schools; doesn't think there should be marrying between species, or that parents of differing species should be having children. He's made numerous comments about women needing to be subservient to men and that their place is in the home. Other outdated shit like that."

"I don't see how this guy keeps getting elected" Scarlett shook her head incredulously. "It's scary to think a significant portion of the electorate believes this shit."

"He almost lost the last election, though" Diego explained. "He had a serious challenge in the Republican primary, some woman who's more moderate, and won only by a few hundred votes. The only reason he won the main election was because one of the Democratic primary candidates who'd lost the primary decided to run as an Independent, which split the opposition vote so Johnson didn't have a problem winning re-election."

Diego shoved the papers back into the folder and handed it to Arkady. "That's about it. There's a list with some TMF membership names in there, from this area, but I didn't see anything interesting. Most of them are just ordinary families who happen to believe in Johnson's rhetoric."

The fox nodded. "Thank you, for what it's worth. I feel positive this is a piece of the puzzle...just not how." He turned back to Ned and Scarlett. "You two are doing pretty well do. Keep using your head" this last bit seemed directed at Ned.

They turned to leave the room, but Diego suddenly paused, paw on door. "Oh...and one more thing, Sarg. Johnson...is including Cali on his anti-Amendment 28 tour. He'll be here in a week or less."

But that was a mistake, Ned thought as he sat down on his desk. Texas was a red state, and even in a more modern city like Houston, Johnson was bound to find a sizable population of supporters who shared his ideals. But San Fernando was nothing like that; this city had a very prominent LGBT population, and tended to be very open-minded in general. Johnson would find few allies here; a pawful maybe, but they'd be in the minority, and considering how infuriating San Fernando's civilian population would find the senator's views, he'd likely be booed off the stage. Ned grinned at that. He'd enjoy seeing Johnson get a backlash.

Then again....

The smile vanished, as he stared through the window of the conference room at the profile photos of Conrad Fincher and Hugo Sota, each looking alive and well. They were driver's licence photos, which never that great, but still, they had been living, breathing people. Had been.

It didn't matter whether Johnson was met by adoring crowds or by only a few loyal supporters. It was all a matter of connecting with the right audience, even the right person. It only took one sick person to take Johnson's words to heart and decide to start killing.

What mattered was stopping him before the body count climbed higher.