Page 29 of So Lethal (Faith Bold #22)
The next evening…
Wow. So he’s gonna get away with it?
Faith smiled slightly and sent back, A federal psychiatric ward is a crap place to “get away” with anything.
David was the on-call veterinarian at the Philadelphia Animal Hospital tonight.
Sometimes that meant constant work tending to emergencies, and other times—like now—it meant sitting around bored and waiting for something to happen.
They would normally talk on the phone during these moments, but Faith's neck was swollen and sore, and talking was painful for her.
Thank God for modern technology.
Still, I don’t buy it. Crazy people don’t lay in wait for FBI agents and try to strangle them to death while effectively avoiding all of the other armed officers and using a sound weapon to take out the K9.
Faith’s smile widened. She looked over at Turk, who was happily chowing down on his dinner.
Kibble tonight. For reasons only dogs understood, Turk liked the fancy wet food David bought for him but absolutely loved the meat-flavored cereal that cost a dollar a pound.
She was giving him a treat tonight. He’d earned it.
He didn’t succeed, though , she texted back. Turk saved me.
Yeah. He’s a good dog.
She laughed. Damned straight.
She looked up at Turk again. Her loving smile vanished, and ice ran through her veins.
Turk was coughing and shuddering as he stumbled away from his bowl. His limbs were shaking, and drool was dripping from his mouth in copious amounts.
“Turk?” she called, her damaged vocal cords producing only a whisper. “Boy?”
Turk looked at her in bewilderment, then coughed. His eyes fluttered, and he fell to his side, convulsing.
Fear gripped Faith, more pure and intense than anything she had felt in her life. She croaked, “Turk! Oh God, Turk!” and ran to his side, dropping the phone. She lifted his head and shook him slightly. “Turk! What’s wrong, boy? What’s happening?”
Turk tried to look at her, but another series of convulsions overtook him. Faith began to sob, tears obscuring her vision as she turned around to call David and ask him how to help. Something below her consciousness told her he wouldn’t make it to the animal hospital in time.
Her vision was so blurry that she couldn’t quite tell if what she was seeing was real at first. It wasn’t until she wiped her tears away that she realized that the woman standing in front of her with the crazed smile and the wide, staring eyes wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
Understanding filled Faith with a fresh wave of fear and pulled her right back to alertness. “You…” she whispered.
“Me,” the woman replied. “You weren’t responding to my messages, so I figured I’d send you a louder one.”
Faith swallowed. She hated what she was about to do, but she didn’t have time to fight. Turk was going to die, probably within minutes. “Please. Just let me call someone to take him to the hospital. Then we’ll talk. I promise.”
The woman giggled—a sound that grated against Faith’s ears even worse than her tinnitus did. “Come on. I’m crazy, not stupid. Besides, you’re a stupid ugly slut bitch, and I have to kill you to show Frank I deserve him.”
She said that in a bright, singsong tone that reminded Faith of a hostess at a restaurant who was trying too hard.
Ice filled Faith's veins, but of a different variety this time. She'd tried to be nice. Now, it was time to handle business.
She ran at the stranger and threw a left hook. The stranger flinched backward and swung a truncheon from behind her back. It cracked Faith on the back of her hand, and Faith gasped as she lost all strength in the hand.
The woman lunged forward, shrieking like a banshee. Faith caught the truncheon and kicked the stranger. The woman released a sound like a tea kettle boiling. Her eyes popped open, but she held onto the truncheon somehow.
She also recovered from a kick to the liver faster than anyone Faith had ever seen. She snarled and pushed Faith forward, driving her back into the wall despite being three inches shorter and probably twenty pounds lighter than Faith.
The two women struggled for control of the baton.
Faith heard a hoarse cough and looked down to see Turk baring his teeth and trying to fight Faith’s attacker.
He was trembling all over, and foam flecked at the corners of his mouth.
Faith’s heart broke to see him fighting for her in the middle of this.
That moment of heartbreak pulled her attention away. The stranger took advantage of that, shrieking again and twisting hard, sending Faith to the floor.
The stranger—no, not the stranger, the Messenger Killer—laughed and pointed the truncheon at Turk. “Potassium cyanide. A lot of it. Figured he’d be more dangerous than you. Looks like I was right.”
Faith scrambled to her feet, but the Messenger was faster. She swung the truncheon at Faith’s knee. Faith felt a pop and dropped to the floor again.
“I’m going to beat you to death,” the Messenger said. “Then I’m going to cut your heart out and squeeze it all over your dog’s face. I hope he’s still alive when I do.”
Faith lashed out with her other foot, sweeping the Messenger to the ground.
The woman snarled and twisted in midair to land on top of Faith.
She lifted the truncheon, but Faith rolled over so she was on top of her.
She drove her elbow down, connecting with the Messenger’s nose.
The Messenger cried out, and Faith dropped her elbow again, then again.
Each blow landed hard enough to knock out a grown man, but somehow, the Messenger stayed alert. She bared her teeth and hissed at Faith like a cat.
Something about that reached behind Faith’s already frayed willpower and stimulated a primal fear in Faith’s mind. In a moment of weakness, she drew back to headbutt the Messenger.
That gave the killer her opportunity. She grunted, and the truncheon connected with Faith’s head. She went limp, only for a moment, but long enough for the Messenger to roll her over and straddle her chest.
She giggled and lifted the truncheon, leering at Faith with that unnerving smile. “Time to turn your head into goop!”
She lifted the truncheon high overhead. "God, I can't wait to tell Frank about this."
Just before she brought the weapon down on Faith’s skull, there was a knock at the door. The Messenger whipped her head toward the door and hissed, “Damn it! God- fucking -damn it!”
She looked at Faith, and the truncheon flinched, but the door handle was turning now. She glared at Faith for a moment longer, then rushed out the back door, leaping the fence just as Michael and Ellie stepped inside.
Michael was smiling. “Hey there. You don’t lock your doors, or what? Were you wrestling with Turk…” His voice trailed off when he saw Turk shuddering weakly on the ground, foam covering his mouth. “Oh my God !”
Ellie shrieked and dropped the bag of food she was holding.
“Take him to the hospital,” Faith begged. “Please.”
“I’ve got you, boy,” Michael said, picking Turk up. “Ellie, grab Faith.”
Ellie was already at Faith’s side, helping her to her feet. Faith sobbed and tried to explain what was happening, but Ellie said, “Shh, it’s okay, dear. Let’s get Turk some help. We’ll worry about everything else later.”
As the two women followed Michael and Turk, Faith looked out the back door where the Messenger Killer had escaped.
She was in the wind now, but unless Turk received a miracle, she had caused more harm to Faith than Trammell, more harm than West. She had dealt her the worst blow anyone ever had, and for the first time since Trammel severed the tendons in the back of her knees, Faith Bold was truly afraid of a killer.