Maybe he even thought he would retire for good, but he wouldn’t. Faith knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay away from a life of killing forever. Sooner or later, he would come back.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t intend to give him the chance to get away in the first place.
“We’re going to be real careful this time, Turk,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. They were still a hundred fifty yards from the house, and the falls were, as Dr. West had told her months ago, very, very loud.
Faith led Turk slowly through the forest toward the cabin, moving from cover to cover carefully. The clearing was a solid ninety feet across, and Faith and Turk would have to cross thirty-five of those feet to reach the cabin.
A light came on in one of the side windows. Faith ducked behind a tree and watched as Franklin West opened the window and breathed deeply of the chill morning air. He smiled contentedly and gazed out at the morning sky.
Faith hated him for that. How dare he enjoy himself? How dare he admire some tranquil, idyllic scene, as though he were nothing more than a country gentleman enjoying the fresh air? How dare he smile like that when thirty people lay rotting in the ground because of him?
Keep smiling,she thought.It’ll mean that much more when I wipe the smile right off of your face.
He stood in front of the window for several minutes. When he left, he kept the window open.
“And that is our way in,” she said.
She led Turk to the edge of the clearing.
“Ready boy?”
Turk bobbed his head.
They rushed across the clearing, Turk bouncing lightly on his paws, Faith crouching and moving on tiptoes. Her heart pounded as they navigated the twelve yards to the window, but West didn’t return, and they reached the house without incident.
She drew her handgun and nodded at Turk. Turk sniffed the ground and hesitated. A moment later, she saw a shadow pass by the window and heard Dr. West humming something to himself.
She smiled softly and nodded again at Turk. His sense of smell seemed to be returning to him. Good. Dr. West could see that Turk had beaten him as well.
After a moment, Turk crouched low, then leaped softly through the window, moving with the grace of a cat. Faith smiled again and decided not to tell him that. She climbed through the window, moving slowly so she didn't make any noise. The thirty seconds it took her to climb through the window and lower herself into the house were the longest of her life. At any moment, she expected Dr. West to come around the corner with a weapon of his own and shoot both her and Turk. Or, more likely, shoot Turk in front of her and laugh as she wept over him.
Well, he would be the one doing the weeping today. If she allowed him the chance.
She drew her handgun and followed Turk down the hallway. The interior of the house was as nice as the exterior, with polished oak flooring and stained pine plank walls. A picture of a younger Franklin West smiling with his arm around a younger Ellie hung halfway down the hallway. Faith stared at the picture for a moment. Both of them looked happy. Dr. West looked perfectly normal, just like the psychologist Faith thought she knew.
But of course, there was nothing normal about that self-conscious smile and nothing kind about those bashful eyes.
She turned away from the painting and moved on.
Turk trotted to the corner of the hallway and turned. He barked and sprinted forward.
"Turk!" she called, raising her handgun and sprinting for him. She rounded the corner, and Dr. West drove his knee into her stomach.
She doubled over and fell to the ground. She looked up at West’s grinning face and snarled, bringing the gun to bear. He kicked it from her hands so easily that she spent a half-second staring at her empty hand in disbelief before a second kick landed, this time to her ribs.
She cried out and curled up, pressing her hand to her injured side. Pain shot through her like electricity. She took a breath, and a sword shot through her liver.
Cracked rib, she thought. Then,Where’s Turk?
She heard a muffled growl and saw Turk writhing underneath Dr. West’s foot, which was planted firmly on his neck.
Fear and anger shot through her. She glared at West, and he returned her look with a pitying smile. “Your dog’s life depends on the very next action you take,” he told her softly.
She looked down at Turk, who was beginning to pant from the pressure West was exerting on his throat. She looked back at West, and impotent rage filled her.
“Fuck you,” she said through gritted teeth. “You asshole.”
“That’s fine if you want to swear at me,” he said, “but if you try to hurt me again, I’ll crush Turk’s windpipe before you can stop me. Then you can watch him choke on his own blood. Would you like that?”
