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Lillian didn’t like the new tv. She couldn’t say exactly why. It was bigger. The colors were brighter. The image was sharper. Even the sound was crisper and clearer.

But she didn’t like it. Maybe it was the way the flat-panel LCD screen clashed with the vintage dive-motel chic of the rest of the room. Maybe it was the fact that she’d had to spend two hundred dollars of her own money on the tv, a power cord and an adapter that would allow the motel’s satellite system to connect to the tv.

Or maybe it was the smarmy bitch FBI agent smiling at her from the tv that made Lillian think very seriously about smashing this unit as well.

Faith Bold simpered at the camera and said, “I am pleased to announce that two nights ago, we did make an arrest in the Poison Ivy Killer case. I can confirm that Tyler Grant of Camden, New Jersey was arrested, and that we rescued a woman from his home who we have reason to believe he intended to poison as well. I’m not at liberty to share the name of the woman we rescued or any other details pertinent to the case, but I can state with confidence that the public no longer has anything to fear.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lillian said. “No one has anything to fear? Everything’s perfectly fine? You caught another Big Baddie, and now Mr. and Mrs. Dipshit Public can rest their doughy heads on their comfy little beds and suck their thumbs until the sandman takes them. Ugh!”

She picked up the remote and lifted it high over her head but caught herself just before she threw it. She stared at the TV, huffing and puffing. Faith Bold’s face had been replaced with an equally smarmy news reporter who was listing all of the victims of the Poison Ivy Killer.

It wasn’t fair. The most accomplished killer of his generation was awaiting trial, and they had forgotten about him completely. Some diseased asshole had decided to poison people, probably as a prank on the food industry, and he was the number one killer in town now.

But Faith still got to be on TV. She was still important.

What the hell did West see in her anyway? Why was he so obsessed with that? She looked like FBI Barbie. Stupid dirty-blonde hair in a stupid ponytail with her stupid perky tits sticking through her stupid FBI uniform. What did he want with her? She wasn’t interesting. She wasn’t special.

She felt her shoulders tense and quickly set the remote control down so she couldn’t throw it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. She released it slowly and repeated the exercise until her heartbeat calmed.

She would show her. That’s what she would do. She would show her, and by doing that, she would show him. She would show West that she was far more worthy of his attention than some bimbo in a uniform.

West was still strong. He still had fight left. His statement had proved that. She just needed to remind him he was strong and show him that he didn’t need Faith to be happy. Not when he could have Lillian.

She took one final deep breath and opened her eyes. She would need to get Faith’s attention. That was the first step. She needed the bimbo to look her way. Then Lillian could lure Faith closer and closer and closer until she could reshape that pretty little face to be as ugly as she was on the inside.

Then she could go to West and profess her love and finally have the life she deserved.

“Hold on, my love,” she said softly. “I’ll make it all better.”