The German Shepherd took one last look at the dried stain, then snorted and returned to Faith’s side. She reached down and ruffled his fur. “Don’t worry, boy. We’ll get him.”
She looked back at the blood and wondered what kind of wound could have caused this kind of exsanguination but allowed the victims to live.
She wondered what kind of criminal would want their victims alive long enough to see that blood and know that they were dying.The answer to that, unfortunately, was all too obvious to Faith.
CHAPTER FIVE
Michael glanced at his friend, partner and one-time lover and tried to get a handle on his emotions. Faith noticed his glance but didn’t return it, keeping her eyes stubbornly focused on the landscape passing outside the passenger window. Turk seemed restless, growling and shaking his head, occasionally pawing at his nose.
“Something wrong with your nose, boy?” he asked.
“He’s fine,” Faith said curtly.
Michael bit back a sharp retort and turned to face forward. Sergeant Forster had lapsed into silence several minutes ago, clearly uncomfortable with the tension between the two agents.
Michael wasn’t particularly comfortable with it himself. He had known Faith for ten years now and been partners with her for most of that time. She had, at one point, been the most important person in his life. For a year or so, he even thought of marrying her.
That felt like an eternity ago, almost a different life. The moody, irritable, self-centered woman who sat behind him to his left was an entirely different person than the exuberant, kind, upbeat woman he’d first seen bouncing into the Philadelphia field office all those years ago.
He could understand it. He really could. She had suffered terribly at the hands of the original Donkey Killer. Michael had witnessed with his own eyes the physical torture she had endured. He couldn’t imagine what the mental impacts of that encounter were.
But that didn't give her the right to interfere with and derail the lives of everyone around her. Michael had Faith's back through most of her misbehavior over the past two years. He had defended her to the Boss, to the Bureau, and on one memorable occasion, the New York Police Department. He had believed firmly that Faith would get a handle on her trauma and come out of it a better person. The woman he thought he had known would have done exactly that. This woman?
His lips thinned as he recalled the night ten days ago when Ellie had called him crying. His immediate, terrifying thought was that Faith was right and the Copycat Killer had come after her and tried to kill her. When he learned what had really happened, his relief was rivaled by a sudden and powerful bout of feeling toward Faith that could only be described as hate.
She had followed Ellie out of state, confronting her on a public street in front of Ellie’s sister and their entire neighborhood. She had all but accused Ellie of being the copycat killer herself and had insinuated that she would protect Michael from her by any means necessary.
Ellie, of course, had snapped. She and Faith had prior history when Turk had decided he didn’t like Ellie and Faith had somehow made the leap that Ellie must be a serial killer. Ellie had remained civil about Faith right up until that point, but to hear herself accused of something so outlandish proved too much for her. She told Faith off and guessed that Faith’s “concern” was nothing more than jealousy over her relationship with Michael.
Micheal wasn’t sure about that last part. Two weeks ago, he would have agreed with Ellie, but now he didn’t think that anyone entered Faith’s mind at all. She was doing this for herself, and if she had feelings for anyone or anything other than her revenge, they had disappeared when Trammell slid his knife across the back of her knee.
The image sent a shiver through Michael. Brandon reached forward and helpfully switched on the heater in the cruiser. Michael wasn’t cold, but he didn’t want to explain why he really had shivered, so he smiled gratefully at Brandon and resumed his musings.
He stole another glance at Faith, and his fists tightened at the livid bruising on her arms and face. He was angry at Faith, but she was still his friend, and he still hated seeing her like this.
At the moment, her suffering only increased his anger. Why the hell had she gone off by herself? The last time she did that, she had nearly died. It looked like this time hadn’t worked out any better.
He reminded himself that Faith had, in fact, gone after several killers herself recently and had managed to capture them in every case. She probably considered Trammell to be a special case due to his massive size and strength. Michael had never met Dr. West in person, but Faith described him as being of medium height and fairly slight build and at least forty-five years old. He had seen Faith handle men far larger than that.
Still, that didn’t make it right. He berated himself for not calling that habit out earlier.
What was he supposed to do, though? He couldn't make her decisions for her. He couldn't reach into her mind and turn off her obsession with Trammell and now West. He couldn't convince her that it was foolish and dangerous of her to keep investigating him when she had been warned repeatedly not to. The most frustrating thing about Faith was that once she had made a decision, she was firmly committed to that decision, even when all evidence suggested she shouldn’t be.
His thoughts drifted back to Ellie. He felt a wave of longing, followed by a wave of concern.
Faith had been wrong about many things related to the Copycat Killer, but in a way, she had been right to fixate on Ellie. Ellie was innocent, but her ex-husband, Dr. Franklin West, was far from innocent. He had left thirty bodies behind in his quest to emulate the original donkey killer, and knowing that Ellie could at any moment have fallen victim to that madness was too much to take.
He glanced back again at Faith and recalled Ellie’s last words to him when he called her to let her know that he was being assigned another case with Faith. Ellie had gone back to stay with her sister, where she would likely remain until her ex-husband was caught. When Michael called her to let her know about the case, she had said, "Be careful, Michael. Faith’s dangerous. I don’t know what she was like before everything that happened with her, but that woman is gone. Whoever she is now, she doesn’t care if you get hurt. The only thing she cares about is her revenge, and I don’t want you getting chewed up in the crossfire.”
He hated the fact that he believed there to be some truth to Ellie’s words. He stole one last glance at Faith and pleaded silently,Come back, Faith. Come back to me.
Brandon pulled into the Plato police station, a small, red-brick two-story building at the end of what might be the only paved road in the entire town. Michael saw two cruisers, an old Crown Vic and a heavily modified truck on massive bias-ply tires that he guessed was used to respond to more remote calls.
Next to the cruisers was a gray van with bright white letters announcing it as the property of the Iowa State Major Crimes Unit. It was next to this van that Brandon parked, stepping outside and opening Faith’s door chivalrously.
Michael joined Faith and Turk and followed Brandon to the building. He stopped outside and handed Michael the keys.
“My shift is over,” he explained. “You’ll be working with Dr. Thalia Heath from major crimes for tonight. The State Patrol is lending you the use of this cruiser during the duration of your stay here.”
