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Faith offered the woman a cup of coffee and a smile. She took both without responding.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”

The woman chuckled. “Yeah. I mean, I’m alive, so that’s good. I guess I should consider myself lucky.”

“I don’t know if lucky is the word I’d use,” Faith admitted, “but I’m sure glad we got to you when we did.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They fell silent a moment. The woman stared at her coffee, clutching it so tightly Faith feared that she would crush it and scald herself.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The woman inhaled sharply. When she exhaled, she relaxed a little. “Gina. Gina Torres.”

“Torres? Sounds familiar.”

“I have a YouTube channel. I review food places.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

“Do you watch it?”

“No. Sorry.”

Gina smiled slightly. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s more for younger people.” Her eyes widened. “Oh God. I didn’t mean that. I don’t mean you’re old, I mean… like teenagers and kids.”

“It’s okay,” Faith said. “I knew what you meant.”

She actually hadn’t known what Gina meant, and she was still pretty sure Gina didn’t mean it as much as she acted she did, but considering the woman had been moments away from a horrible death less than ten minutes ago, she didn’t hold it against her.

The door to the police cruiser in which Tyler Grant sat slammed shut. Gina shivered as she watched it speed away. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“He’ll be booked for multiple murders, kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, and probably some obscure stuff related to poisoning and delivering packages under false pretenses. You'll never see him again. Not unless you want to testify against him in person."

Gina shivered again and shook her head. “No, I think I’d rather never see him again.”

“I don’t blame you,” Faith replied. “I wouldn’t want to see him again either.”

Gina looked down at her coffee cup. Then, as though finally realizing what it was for, she took a hearty sip. “Careful,” Faith warned. “It’s hot.”

“That’s okay. I like it hot.” She took another sip, then said, “What was he so upset about? Something to do with his father?”

“I guess so,” Faith replied. “I don’t know the story. Michael—that’s my partner—he might know more.”

Turk trotted over and laid his head on Gina’s lap. She grinned—the first real smile she had showed—and started scratching him behind his ears. Turk’s eyes narrowed, and he sighed in clear satisfaction.

“Good dog,” Gina said affectionately.

“He is,” Faith agreed. “He’s a very good dog.”

Gina looked up at Faith. “I don’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I mean, sometimes I give bad reviews, but I’m not trying to make anyone angry. I’m just trying to be honest. Sometimes the food’s really bad. It’s nothing personal.”

“You have done nothing wrong,” Faith said. “And you shouldn’t apologize for anything. Tyler Grant is insane, and nothing he does is a reflection on you.”

“Yeah.” Gina took another sip of coffee. “I feel bad for him, though. Is it weird that I feel bad?”

“No,” Faith assured her. “Actually, it’s very common. It’s hard for people to understand why anyone would act the way Tyler did. So most people assume that they act that way because they’re acting out due to their own suffering.”

“That’s the truth, though isn’t it?”

“Sometimes. In Tyler’s case, yes, probably.”

“Don’t you feel bad for him? I mean, not a lot , obviously. But a little bit?”

Faith considered her answer a moment. “Not always. Sometimes, yes, but not always. I just feel like there are so many better ways to handle pain than to lash out against other people, and I can’t condone any excuse for hurting people the way Tyler did. It’s not right, and there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make it right.”

“Yeah. I know. I know it’s not right, I just. I guess I don’t know what I’d do if my father died.”

“Would you poison a bunch of innocent people?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then you’re better than he is.”

Gina shrugged. “I don’t believe in better or worse. At least, I don’t believe in people being better or worse than other people. We’re all just people. Some of us just take a wrong turn at some point.”

Faith didn’t answer for a while. Finally, she just squeezed Gina’s shoulder and said, “I’m going to have EMS look at you. Once they say it’s okay, you’ll be transported home. You might spend the night in the hospital, but as long as they don’t see anything wrong, you’ll be able to start putting this nightmare behind you. You’ll have to make a statement, but that should be all you have to do.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Faith smiled at the young woman. “Good luck to you, Gina.”

Gina gave Turk a quick hug. Then Turk followed Faith away. Faith motioned to the waiting paramedics, and they made their way over to their near-victim.

Michael waited for the two of them at the car. “How’d it go?”

Faith sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. She’s trying to empathize with him right now. I don’t know if it’s because she’s traumatized or because she really feels bad for him.”

“Maybe both. People are complicated.”

Faith looked back at Gina. “Are we? I wonder sometimes.”

Michael laid a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go get some doughnuts. You’ll feel better after you get some processed sugar into your body.”

Faith laughed. “Doctor’s orders?”

“Fuck doctors.”

She chuckled again and walked around to the passenger seat. “Come on, Turk. You want a doughnut?”

Turk’s eyes popped open. He barked exuberantly and leapt into the vehicle, tail wagging.

“Can he have a doughnut?” Michael asked her.

She shrugged. “Fuck vets.”

He grinned mischievously. “Well, just the one, right?”

She looked sideways at him. “I thought we agreed no sex jokes.”

“The case is over. All bets are off now.”

She rolled her eyes. Michael laughed and climbed into the driver’s seat. Moments later, they were on their way to the nearest donut shop the GPS identified. Behind them, the memory of death and madness receded. Ahead of them? Well, they would have to see.

***

“So who’s Elijah Grant?” Faith asked.

Michael pulled his attention away from Turk, who was happily resting after devouring three ring donuts. “Chef. Back in the nineties and early ought’s. My mom used to watch the Cooking Channel religiously. He wasn’t famous, really, but he was a guest on a few of the variety shows on the channel. He opened a restaurant in Philly in ninety… something or other. Anyway, it was slammed.”

“Not good?”

“Very not good. It actually won some recognition for being the most despised opening of any fine dining restaurant in the United States on record.”

“How can they verify something like that?”

“They can’t, but that’s not the point. People like extremes. Something either has to be the best thing that’s ever happened or an abomination before God and man. You can’t have both. So his restaurant had to either be perfect or a pit of horror. They chose pit of horror.”

She grinned. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to hate journalists.”

He shrugged. “I don’t hate journalists. I just… I really don’t like that about people.”

“That we’re all or nothing?”

“Well, that, but more that we delight so much in seeing other people torn down. How many times have you seen a story about a celebrity caught drinking or doing drugs or cheating on their partner or something, and all of a sudden all of these leeches come out of the woodwork and feel like they need to chime in on why these people are suddenly the spawn of Satan? Look at you with West. You brought the most prolific serial killer in fifty years to justice, and people want to bring up every mistake you’ve ever made. We can’t handle people succeeding.”

“I think people get jealous,” Faith said. “They can’t accept that anyone could have what they don’t have.”

Michael shrugged. “Maybe. Either way, it’s a shit personality trait. But so many of us seem to have it. Anyway, they tore Elijah Grant a new one, and it hurt him bad. The restaurant lasted just over a year before it shut down. He was found dead in the building by the new owners. Apparently he’d been there over a week.”

Faith grimaced. “Jesus.”

“Yeah. Not a pretty sight.” He polished off the last of his donut. “I still don’t feel bad for Tyler, though. There are a thousand better ways to handle that than poisoning people to death.”

Faith didn’t say anything for a moment. Michael looked at her and said, “Faith? What’s going on? I can see the wheels turning in your head. They’re not turning somewhere stupid, are they?”

She bit her lip. "I was going to kill West, Michael when he took Turk. And when he killed Gordon. I wasn’t going to turn him into the Bureau. I was going to kill him myself. That’s why I went off on my own for a little bit. I didn’t want someone else to find him and take him away before I could kill him myself.”

“Yeah, but West is a serial killer. Tyler’s victims were journalists and bloggers. At worst, they made bad jokes at someone’s expense or hurt their feelings because they didn’t love their rosemary rhubarb duck confit as much as the cooks did. It’s a little different wanting revenge on a serial killer for murdering your friend, stealing your dog and beating your boyfriend nearly to death than it is to want revenge on an entire industry and deciding to achieve that revenge by targeting random people who aren’t vicious murderers.”

Faith didn’t answer right away. She knew Michael was right, and she definitely didn’t think she was as evil as Tyler and West were.

But…

“I do feel bad for him. I know what it’s like to feel powerless. To have your entire worldview and sense of right and wrong stripped away from you violently and to be left to pick up the pieces. I picked up the pieces. Tyler didn’t. Yes, he’s a murderer and a bad person, and he deserves the life in prison he’ll get. But I feel bad for him.”

Michael nodded. “You’re a good person, Faith.”

“I try.”

She didn’t want to spend any more time dwelling on whether or not Michael was right about that, so she changed the subject. “Are you looking forward to going home to Ellie tonight?”

“What do you think?”

She laughed. “I think I don’t tell you enough how happy I am for you that you found the love of your life. But I am. I’m glad you found someone who checks all your boxes.”

“It’s not about checking boxes. But I’ll leave the lecture at that because I can tell you’re not in the mood for philosophy. Instead, I’ll just say, thank you. And I’m glad you found the love of your life too.”

Faith’s smile widened. “Yeah. I did.”