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She sighed and ruffled Turk’s fur. “One step at a time, right boy?”
CHAPTER TWO
Michael grinned at her when she stepped out of her car, a 2009 Crown Victoria that wasn’t nearly as classic as the ’49 Chevy she referenced in her session with Dr. Perth but was still a damned fine example of American automotive engineering. She sighed and said, “Please don’t ask, Michael. Seriously.”
“You know I have to.”
“You really don’t.”
The two of them started walking to the office, Turk trotting happily in between them.
“Okay. I will make a statement, then. Therapy was irritating because Dr. Perth might actually get you to talk about things instead of letting you bottle them up.”
“Therapy was irritating because I can’t have things that are just my own damned business and no one else’s. I feel like I should start tracking my bowel movements.”
“It’s not a bad idea. Get the habit started early. You’re not getting younger, you know.”
She frowned at him. “I’m sure there was a joke in there somewhere, but it didn’t come close to landing.”
He shrugged. “Hey, you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t figure you for a hockey fan.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Never mind.”
The two of them walked into the building and headed for the Boss’s office. Faith steeled herself for the meeting to come. If anything, it would be even more uncomfortable than the therapy session had been.
“You okay?” Michael asked.
“Ask me that again,” she groused. “I dare you.”
He lifted his hands placatingly. “Okay.”
They walked into the office, and the Boss fixed them with his trademark scowl. Special Agent in Charge Grant Monroe—known affectionately to his subordinates as The Boss—was a twenty-five-year veteran of the Bureau who had spent the past fifteen of those years as the head of the Philadelphia Field Office. He was notorious in the Bureau both for the militant way he ran the Philadelphia office and for his willingness to call Bureau leadership out for their poor decision-making. This had earned him the ire of the directors but also their grudging respect. He would never advance beyond SAC, but his position here was secure.
They took their seats and waited for the Boss to speak first. He took his own seat and sighed. Not a good sign. If something had him worried, then it was serious.
Of course, Faith didn’t need to hear the Boss sigh to know this situation was serious. “I take it we haven’t learned anything about the murder.”
The murder Faith referenced was the death of a clerk at a mom-and-pop electronics store near downtown. The clerk was a forty-five-year-old overweight balding man by the name of Bob Hosier who was found with his gut cut open, and a small portable television placed on the cavity with a note written on the screen in red marker. THIS IS YOUR FAULT, BOLD.
That murder had occurred a week ago, and no one had yet figured out who could be responsible or whether or not this really was intended to send a message to Faith. As a precaution—mostly to keep Faith from the media circus, she guessed—the case had been given to Desrouleaux and Chavez, two of the Boss’s other agents.
“No,” the Boss replied. “We’ve been looking online for anything that could suggest someone has it out for you, butnothing’s popped up. We even checked the Franklin West fan page.”
“He has afan page?”Michael exclaimed.
Faith wished that the news surprised her as much as it surprised Michael.
“I’m afraid so,” the Boss replied, his lip curling in contempt. “People are foolish. But the people in that fan club are mostly teenagers who think it’s funny to act like they’re attracted to serial killers. No one mentioned anything about the murder, and no one seems to care that Faith exists other than to mention that she really isn’t Dr. West’s type, and he should go for someone with a darker aesthetic.”
Faith chuckled softly. “Would this be a bad time to ask if I could work the case?”
“Every time will be a bad time to ask that question,” the Boss replied. “We can’t risk any more questions with you. People are already picking you and the Bureau apart over the West case. You’re walking the line from now on. You’re too close to this case, so the answer’s no.”
“But is she in danger?” Michael asked. “Do we think this person will come after her?”
