Page 13

Faith and Michael stopped for lunch at a fast-casual restaurant adjacent to the park.

They ate in the car to keep their conversation private and keep the sizable crowd of honeybees and yellowjackets hovering around the restaurant's outdoor seating from interrupting their meal.

Faith didn't have a problem with stinging insects, but she didn't want to make sure Turk didn't eat one while talking to Maria Fuentes.

Instead, she got to endure Turk's reproachful look for keeping him inside when it was a bright, beautiful day and there was a park right next to them.

“I’ll take you out for a run when we get back home,” she said. Maybe we’ll get lucky and run into the Messenger so I can pay her back for what she did to you.

She regretted that thought as soon as she had it, but she didn’t regret it that much. Faith had grown out of her old desire to take justice into her own hands, but she’d gladly make an exception for the bitch who tried to kill her dog.

Which is why you're not in that case.

She sighed, and Michael asked, "Everything okay?"

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes it would be nice to have a partner who didn’t care so much about me outside of work.”

“Well, we’re working. Do I need to have the conversation about how your emotional state affects your ability to work well again?”

“No, you don’t. And I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

She stared at him. “What are you, my sister?”

“I prefer to think of myself as a nosy aunt, but I’ll take sister.”

Faith chuckled and found with some surprised that she felt a little better. “Screw you, Prince.”

“We tried that before, remember? It didn’t work out.”

“Should I tell Ellie that you’re joking about our sexual history?”

His eyes widened in exaggerated shock. “What are you trying to do, get me killed? Fine, I’ll shut up.”

“Actually, please do shut up. I’m calling Maria now.”

“I don’t get to talk to her too?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Shut up until she answers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pinched his forearm, then dialed the number. Maybe this wasn’t the best display of professionalism they’d ever shown, but she felt a little more centered now, and that was important if she was going to find justice for Paul Martinez and Kevin Barnes.

Maria answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?” She sounded tired and stressed but not particularly sad.

“This is Special Agent Faith Bold, FBI,” Faith replied. “I’m on the phone with my partner, Special Agent Michael Prince. We need to—”

Turk barked, and Faith sighed. “And our K9 unit, Turk.” She glared at Turk, who lifted his chin with great dignity and held her gaze.

“We need to talk to you about your ex-husband.”

Maria sighed. “Yeah, I heard. Danbury PD told me a few minutes ago.”

“We still need to talk to you,” Faith said. “Is this a good time?”

After a pause, Maria said, "Yeah, I guess so. The three older kids are at school, and my three-year-old is watching TV. They don't know about Kevin yet. Not looking forward to that conversation."

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t my loss. No disrespect to Kevin, but being married to him was a lot of work. I don’t think either of us regretted losing the other. He wanted someone who could carry him emotionally, and I wanted someone who could stand on his own two feet.”

Faith listened patiently to Maria’s soliloquy.

Whether or not she recognized it as such, Maria was grieving Kevin’s death.

She was going through every aspect of their relationship—good and bad—clinging to the memories as though afraid that if she didn’t, they’d vanish for good and take with them the only part of Kevin she still had.

Maybe Maria did recognize that a little, because she followed her rant up with, “He was a good father, though. He loved those kids. That made the divorce… easier’s not the right word, but less brutal, I guess.

I knew he’d be involved in the kids’ lives, and I knew he’d meet his obligations to them.

That’s actually what we were calling about today.

I was going to ask for an increase in child support payments.

Just four percent, just enough to cover inflation.

Kevin was usually pretty good about that.

Sometimes he’d want to see the calculations, though.

He always thought I was too materialistic.

That’s one of the reasons we started fighting. ”

Faith respected Maria’s desire to talk to someone about this, but she really did need to keep this focused on the case. “Did he fight with a lot of people?”

"Actually, no. He got along pretty well with everyone. He wasn't exactly a teddy bear, but he wasn't rude or aggressive."

“What do you mean when you say not a teddy bear?” Michael asked. A good question, since that could mean many things, especially coming from the woman who at one point had presumably believed that she was going spend the rest of her life with him.

“He was… aloof. Not in a rude way, but… it was hard to reach him. He put up this front like everything was okay, but behind that, he was seriously depressed. That’s another thing we fought about.

I told him to go see a therapist, but he never did.

He said there was nothing they could tell him that would help him. ”

I totally understand that, Faith thought. Out loud, she said, “Did others comment on his aloofness?”

“Sometimes. We didn’t have a lot of close friends, but other parents from our kids’ schools would ask me if Kevin didn’t like them or if he was upset with them because he just wouldn’t talk to them.

He’d keep to himself most of the time. He was really only vulnerable with me, but then…

” She paused a second, and when she continued, her voice was thick as though she was holding back tears.

“Well, I wasn’t very good at dealing with that.

I don’t know, I guess I just grew up thinking men were supposed to just push through things.

I know that sounds horrible, but my dad and my older brothers were all stoic, strong, silent types.

I didn’t know what to do about someone crying on my shoulder about a war that ended for them years ago. Jeez, I really am a bitch, aren’t I?”

“It’s hard to be in love with a soldier,” Faith said. “The experiences they face are unlike anything you can imagine unless you’ve experienced it yourself. You’re not a bitch for being unable to bridge that gap.”

Maria sighed. “I just wanted him to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.

When the divorce was final, I told him that he should go find someone else, someone who could hold him when he needed it.

I meant that too. I think he thought I was just rubbing it in that I wasn’t going to be there for him anymore, but I wasn’t.

I wanted him to just have someone, anyone.

I mean, he talked to his buddies, but not really, you know? ”

“His buddies?” Michael probed.

"Yeah, they'd take turns hosting get-togethers.

We'd get two or three a year. They'd talk, but it was all boy stuff, you know?

Cars, sports, guns, stuff like that. Whenever the conversation started to get serious, they'd change the subject.

It's like they just didn't want to think about…

I'm sorry. You guys don't want to hear all this. "

“Actually, this is very helpful,” Faith replied. “Knowing our victims is a key step to knowing what happened to them.”

“What did happen to him?” Maria asked. “I asked Danbury PD, but they wouldn’t tell me.”

Faith glanced at Michael. Michael replied to Maria’s question. “We’re not at liberty to release details at this time. We can confirm that his death is a homicide, but that’s all.”

“A homicide.” Maria worked through the word like a tough piece of gristle. “Yeah, I figured that’s what it was when the cops wouldn’t talk to me. God damn it.”

“We’re very sorry, ma’am.”

For the third time, a victim’s loved one replied with, “Well, sorry doesn’t bring him back, does it?” She went on to say, “I’m not trying to be a bitch, but… shit. God, what do I tell the kids? Jamie’s twelve, and Jackson’s ten. They won’t buy a line of bullshit.”

Faith wished she could think of something helpful to say to Maria, but she didn’t have kids and had no idea how to handle this kind of conversation. Michael, thankfully, had an answer.

“Focus on how much he loved them. There’s nothing to say to make his death any easier to swallow, so focus on his life.

All of the best parts of it. Give the kids space to grieve and expect nothing from them.

They’ll handle it differently, each of them.

They’ll be sad, they’ll be angry, they’ll be rebellious, and they’ll probably project all of those emotions onto you.

Just keep loving them and keep focusing on how much he loved them. They’ll get through this. So will you.”

There was no doubt that Maria was crying now. "Thank you." She sniffled and breathed, "God, this sucks. Do you have kids?"

“No,” Michael said, “but I’ve dealt with kids in these kinds of situations numerous times.”

“You should have kids. You sound like you’d be a great dad.”

Michael smiled, a little sadly. “Maybe I will one day.”

Maria took a deep breath to stifle her tears, then asked, “Is there anything else I can help you guys with?”

“Just two more questions,” Faith replied. “Did you notice a change in Kevin’s behavior recently? Did he mention anyone new in his life?”

“No, no one new. And he seemed the same to me, but we didn’t talk very often. He’d call for the kids, and we’d make small talk when he’d pick them up or drop them off, but we haven’t had a real conversation in years. Not since Julie was born.”

Faith nodded. “Very well. If you think of anything else, please call me back at this number.”

“I will. Thank you.”

She hung up, and Faith leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“I know that look,” Michael said. “You have an idea.”

“Not quite an idea,” Faith replied. “More of an observation.”

“I’ll take an observation. Hit me.”

“Both of our victims were veterans who were upbeat and garrulous but who also kept most people at arms’ length. Those few allowed closer got to see a deep depression stemming from trauma suffered during the war.”

“You think our killer is performing mercy killings?” Michael asked.

“It’s possible. We’ve dealt with several killers like that.”

“But who would want to give these two specific people mercy?” Michael asked. “Two hours apart in two separate archaeological digs?”

“That’s why I think the crime scenes are the key,” Faith said. “I think knowing the victims tells us what kind of killer in general. If we want to know the specifics, we need to figure out why these specific burial sites were chosen.”

Michael’s phone chimed. He glanced at it and said, “Well, we’re in luck. It looks like Dr. Cuthbert just pulled into the lot below us.”

“Wonderful,” Faith said. “Let’s see what he has to say.”

As the three of them drove down to the lower lot, Faith thought of the victims carefully laid to rest by a killer who honored them as warriors. Did they know how much pain their families were in, or were their thoughts too haunted by the ghosts of their pasts to see the ghosts of their futures?