Page 4

Faith reviewed the case files while Michael drove to the crime scene.

A retired veteran had been murdered and buried in a shallow grave near Hancock, New York, a few hours’ drive north of Philadelphia.

Master Sergeant Paul Martinez, a former Air Force NCO who had retired just over a year prior after thirty years in the service.

“Why are we being called to this?” she asked Michael. “There’s only one victim.”

“He just so happens to have been killed within the only thirty acres of land in the Upper Delaware Scenic and Recreational River owned by the federal government,” Michael replied.

“That makes his death a federal case. As for why us , it’s like Tabitha said.

You’ve investigated cases of military members being targeted before.

You’ve got experience with this, and you’re the resident guru on highly organized spree killers. ”

Faith frowned. “He’s not a spree killer, though. There’s only one victim.”

“Only one so far, but come on, Faith. Look at the crime scene photographs. The man was posed for a funeral.”

“They found him with his hand sticking out of the ground,” Faith countered.

“A graduate student at the archaeological dig where the body was buried grabbed the hand thinking it was an artifact.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “Really? And we buy that?”

“He’s got an alibi for the time of death. Speaking of, that time of death is between twelve and twenty-four hours before the body was found. Rigor was still set when they found him.”

Faith grimaced. “Poor kid.”

“Yeah, that’s a shit way to earn your extra credit.”

“So you said the body was buried at an archaeological dig?” Faith asked. “That’s not reflected in the report.”

“Last page.”

She turned to the last page and found a single sentence at the bottom of the location that identified an archaeological dig overseen by Dr. Anna Winters. “Ah. Is Dr. Winters going to meet us at the crime scene, or are we working with local officers?”

“No locals. Federal case, remember? As for Dr. Winters, she’ll be meeting us there. The archaeological dig is still going on. They hadn’t gotten to the crime scene yet.”

“But the person who discovered the body was digging there.”

“His story is that he had a hunch that he’d find something important, and he wanted to impress Dr. Winters. I guess he has a bit of a thing for her.”

“Hmm.”

“We can talk to him if you want,” Michael said, noticing Faith’s suspicion.

Faith shook her head. “Not yet. We’ll look at the crime scene and talk to Dr. Winters before we figure out our next steps.”

She closed the file and looked over at Turk. He lay in the back seat, eyes closed. She watched his chest rise and fall, his breathing strong and unobstructed. It was hard to believe that only a few weeks ago, she had watched him die on a hospital bed.

“I talked to David before we left,” Michael said. “He told me that Turk’s vitals are all clear. The poison’s been completely flushed from his system, and there’s no permanent damage.”

Faith knew all that. David had told her the day Turk was released from the hospital. “He’s very lucky,” she replied.

Michael nodded. He tapped the steering wheel, a habit of his whenever he was about to talk about something that made him uncomfortable. She sighed and turned to face the front. “Go ahead. We’re not going to be able to work together if you don’t get this off your chest, so go ahead.”

Michael nodded again. “I one hundred percent stand by my exhortation to you to remain an active field agent, but I do have to ask: why did you decide to retire?”

“Do you really have to ask that? I watched Turk die, Michael. I watched him die, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.”

“Yes, but when West captured Turk, you thought he’d killed him too, and you didn’t decide to retire. You were arguing tooth and nail to be allowed to keep working.”

“Turk came back safe and unharmed,” Faith told him. “And I fought to be allowed to find West specifically.”

“Turk came back safe and unharmed this time too. So what’s different?”

Faith’s hackles rose. “Nothing’s different. I just don’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“ That’s different.”

She rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, can you just let this go?”

"No, I can't," Michael replied. "You're my partner, and I can't just let go of the fact that you almost jumped ship without telling me."

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Faith snapped. “I really should have considered your feelings.”

“I’m considering your feelings,” Michael said patiently.

“And I’ve known you long enough to know that to get you to talk to me, I have to be annoying and persistent.

I also know that I have to endure your sarcasm and occasionally insults.

So what’s different this time? Why did this specific instance turn out to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? ”

“Because I watched Turk almost die this time.”

“You’ve watched him almost die before. West wasn’t the only time. The asshole killing Marines in Washington State beat Turk pretty badly too. You didn’t try to retire then. You fought to keep working. You fought to keep Turk working.”

“Turk’s almost ten. He’s not a young dog anymore.”

Michael sighed. “I read his most recent assessments. I know he’s still a badass.”

“He’s—”

“No. Not him. He’s fine. You . Why do you want to retire?”

“Because I couldn’t stop her!” Faith snapped.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she swore and looked out the passenger window.

Her reflection in the mirror revealed a hurt, scared expression that galled her.

She turned to the front to evade the image.

“I couldn’t stop her,” she said softly. “I couldn’t stop her from hurting Turk, and I couldn’t stop her from killing me. ”

“She didn’t kill you.”

Faith rolled her eyes. "Yes, but she almost did.

And before you point out that Trammell and West almost killed me too, that's the goddamned point.

All three of them could have killed me. Trammell didn't because you shot him before he could, West didn't because he wanted to pull off some bullshit masterstroke from prison, and the Messenger didn't kill me because you and Ellie walked in on her. "

“Well, my point is that this isn’t different. But you’re acting different. You’re not the type of person to just get tired of something. You’re the type of person to keep fighting and fighting and fighting no matter how much it hurts. Not this time, though.”

His tone was gentle, which only served to worsen Faith’s mood.

Tears fell from her eyes despite her best efforts to stop them.

She brushed them away angrily and said, “I know it’s stupid, but at least Trammell and West were men.

I know it’s not politically correct to point this out, but men are stronger than women.

Most of the time my training, experience, weaponry, and badass German Shepherd make up for that, but Trammell was as big as a bear and West was a well-trained martial artist who had weapons. ”

“The Messenger had a weapon.”

“Yeah, and she was three inches shorter than me and twenty pounds smaller. And my dog was dying.” She wiped more tears from her eyes.

“I should have knocked her silly, but I didn’t.

Somehow, she beat me. I don’t get it. I can’t understand it.

Why can I walk through almost any other killer on Earth, but the ones who are obsessed with me have some secret weapon that just…

” She took a deep breath. “I couldn’t stop her.

And if she comes back, I won’t be able to stop her again. ”

“You don’t know that.”

“Stop fucking saying that!” Faith snapped. “I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not.” She sniffled. “I wanted to get Turk somewhere safe. I don’t give a shit about myself, but—”

Michael frowned. “What do you mean you don’t give a shit about yourself?”

Faith rolled her eyes. “I am willing to sacrifice my life for this job, but I’m not willing to sacrifice Turk’s.

Honestly, I’ve been selfish, Michael. Turk’s going to be ten years old.

If he’s a long-lived Shepherd, then he’s got what?

Three years left? Four? He deserves to spend some of those years not in danger.

He deserves to rest and enjoy himself a little.

I wasn’t ready to leave, and maybe you’re right.

Maybe I’m still not. But…” She sighed. “Look, I already agreed with you. I’m here. I’m working. Can you just drop it?”

Michael nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll drop it. I’m sorry. I care about you a lot, and you won’t talk to me unless I pry, so—”

“Sometimes it’s okay if we don’t talk about things,” Faith said tersely.

Michael’s lips thinned, but he didn’t argue further.

They spent the next hour in silence. Faith kept her eyes stoically ahead and waited for her emotions to steady.

They did, but she was left feeling drained.

She wondered if maybe Tabitha was right.

Maybe she was mentally unfit for duty. She wanted to believe that she was just as capable as she had always been, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

On the other hand, Michael had a point. Faith knew she was acting out of fear by choosing to retire now.

She also knew that eventually that fear would fade, and when it did, she would have to face the fact that she had slunk away with her tail between her legs.

She'd have to face the fact that the Messenger—West's disciple, whether he knew it or not—had beaten her.

And she knew that was a fact she couldn’t face.

But did that really matter? Could she put Turk’s life—not to mention her own and the lives of everyone she cared about—at risk over her foolish pride?

Much as she might like to believe it, she wasn’t superhuman.

She couldn’t live with giving up and letting the Messenger win, but she could live even less with watching Turk die for good.

If she stayed the course and brought the Messenger and other killers to justice, then she would be glad for having persevered.

If she stayed the course, and the Messenger came back and finished the job with Turk, she would never forgive herself.

“It comes down to faith,” Michael said.

She blinked. “What?”

"It comes down to faith, Faith," he said, smiling slightly at his pun. "Seriously. I know the question you're struggling with. What's the worst possible outcome? You and Turk stay and get killed, or you leave and end up regretting how you left. But what's the best possible outcome?”

She sighed. “I stay, and Turk doesn’t get killed. The Messenger is brought to justice, I keep catching bad guys and no one can say they’ve beaten me.”

“Exactly. The real question you should be asking is, do you have faith that the best outcome is achievable?"

Faith looked down at her hands. “I don’t know.”

Michael nodded. “Well, when you figure that out, you’ll know for sure what you need to do. And you’ll do it, no matter what I or anyone else tells you.”

They fell silent again, and Faith risked looking out of her passenger window again. The sun had shifted, and her reflection no longer stared back. Faith was grateful for that.

And the answer to that question? She’d have to wait and see.