Page 3

Special Agent-in-Charge Grant Monroe, known semi-affectionately as the Boss to his subordinates at the Philadelphia Field Office, was rarely in a good mood. His normal demeanor reminded Faith of the more surly of her drill instructors from the Marine Corps.

He was in a bad mood today. He was in a bad mood most days he needed to see Faith, at least recently. Faith was a bit of a celebrity in Philadelphia due to her high-profile connection to Franklin West, the most notorious serial killer in the city's history. With West on trial and that trial being treated as the news story of the century, Faith was a media darling, which in the eyes of the Bureau meant she was a liability. She had barely managed to keep her job as a field agent by moving to Allentown, a smaller city about an hour or two north of Philly, depending on traffic, and by taking jobs that moved her far away from the city of brotherly love.

“Where’s Turk?” he barked.

Faith sighed. She should just have Turk’s whereabouts printed on a t-shirt whenever he wasn’t with her. “He’s at the animal hospital. Today is his semiannual checkup.”

The Boss scowled. “When will it be over?”

“It’s an all-day battery of tests. David’s usually pretty quick with them, but it’ll still be three hours probably.”

The Boss sighed. “We’ll have to reschedule. You two are on a flight in two and a half hours.”

“Where to this time, Boss?” Michael asked.

“Omaha.”

“Nebraska. Fun.”

The Boss glared at Michael, but apparently couldn’t determine exactly what joke Michael was trying to play at his expense. “Yes. We were personally requested by the Council Bluffs Animal Rescue Sanctuary.”

Michael lifted an eyebrow. “Iowa. Even more fun.”

"We are all truly impressed by your knowledge of geography, Prince," the Boss said. "Now, let's talk about the murder you two will be investigating."

“Hold on,” Faith interrupted. “We were requested by an animal sanctuary? People can do that?”

The Boss rubbed his temples. “Local law enforcement agreed to ask for our second opinion at the sanctuary’s urging. Would you like to know exactly which forms were filed, or can I tell you what we know about the murder?”

“Go ahead, Boss.”

The Boss reached into his desk and dropped a folder on the counter. “Marcus Reeves, forty-seven. Found in the morning by the opening janitorial crew. Looked like that.”

Faith’s stomach was nearly ironclad after over a decade of investigating brutal crime scenes, so she wasn’t put off by the image, but she could imagine that the poor janitors weren’t so mellow about it. “Looks like his throat was torn out.”

“Looks like it. Janitor almost got her throat torn out too. Turns out a panther was on the loose.”

Michael frowned. “And… that’s not the cause of death?”

“Local PD says yes. Animal sanctuary says no. They forced the issue, and the body was taken to the coroner. Local PD agreed to call us.”

“Any idea what it could have been if it wasn’t a panther?”

“Well, they wanted to call us, so I’m guessing a person.”

Faith resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Did they give a reason?”

“I don’t know, Bold. I didn’t talk to the sanctuary, I talked to the lieutenant who called in the request. Everything we know is on that page. Marcus Reeves, forty-seven, throat torn out by possibly not a panther.”

Faith and Michael shared a look. “Is everything all right, sir?” Faith asked. “I mean… is there something I should know?”

“You should know that now is a very good time for you to be out of Philadelphia for a while. Go get your dog and get on the plane. Solve this case, and hopefully by then, things will be back to what passes for normal around here.”

Faith had a strong feeling the Boss was hiding something from her, but it was probably better not to press him for information right now. She took the file and stood. “All right, sir. We’ll get right on it.”

***

When they were on their way to the hospital, Michael asked, “How are things? With you and David, I mean?”

Faith sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“He’s pretty upset, huh?”

It occurred to Faith that Michael thought she had broken up with him. Now she really, really didn’t want to talk about it.

But he would see David being affectionate with her and Faith returning that affection. She sighed again and said, “No. I… we’re still together.”

Michael’s eyes popped open. “Oh yeah? That’s wonderful!” He grinned. “See? I told you you two would be okay.”

“Yep. One big happy family. Can we not talk about my personal life anymore?”

"Sure, sure. But also, congratulations. It's so much fun living with the person you love. You get to have them there all the time and—"

“Oh my God!” she shouted. “Can you stop, please?”

“Right. Sorry.”

They reached the hospital in twenty minutes on the dot. It was two-thirty, which meant Turk would be in the middle of his aerobics test. That meant he would be on the first floor in the hospital’s dog gym. David was one of only a handful of vets licensed to perform evaluations of FBI K9s, and though he had his own office in the city, he could often be found at the animal hospital testing K9s from all over the northeast or treating local units for injuries sustained on the job.

Turk was on the treadmill when they approached. He barked when he saw Faith and jumped off the treadmill easily, tail wagging as he trotted to her. She squatted down and wrapped her arms around him. “Hey, buddy! Who’s a good boy?”

“Not me,” a rich baritone replied. “Not around you, at least.”

Faith stood and accepted a second embrace from her boyfriend, Dr. David Friedman. He was wearing the cologne Faith had bought him for his birthday, and he smelled absolutely delicious.

And he looked absolutely delicious. Seriously, it wasn’t fair. In another life, David could have been a Hollywood heartthrob. Even going on two years together, she was still stunned by how handsome he was.

If only that was enough.

“You’re here early,” David said when they separated. “Is that good news or bad news?”

She sighed. “Bad news. We got a case in Iowa-slash-Nebraska.”

David’s face fell slightly. “I guess I’m eating ribeye by myself tonight, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Faith said. “I wasn’t supposed to get assigned to a case today, but… well, the Boss didn’t come out and say it, but—”

“But you need to lay low, and something’s going on which means you need to lay especially low. I get it.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“I get it. I really do.” He smiled again. “Relax, Faith. It’s okay. I knew what you were when I fell in love with you. Besides. It just means you’ll make it up to me when you get home.”

Faith narrowed her eyes and said playfully, “And just what does that mean, Mister?”

“You know what it means.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Hey guys. Sorry to be the third wheel, but I do have to try to keep down dinner later, so save the gory details for late-night texts.”

David grinned. “Oh, like you haven’t heard it all before.”

“Okay,” Faith said, clapping her hands. “What a lovely and incredibly awkward conversation this has become. David, we have to reschedule the rest of Turk’s checkup for another time.”

“I figured. I was just doing the physical fitness test, and we both know he’s going to ace that one.” He shifted his feet a little. “Hey, before you go, Faith, I need to talk to you about something.”

Faith frowned. “Sure. What is it?”

David glanced at Michael. Michael cleared his throat and said, “Um, I’m gonna take Turk to the car and look for a good hotel in Council Bluffs.”

“Get one in Omaha,” David advised. “It’s a bigger city, so the hotels are nicer.”

Michael tilted his head. “Didn’t realize that’s how it usually worked, but I’ll take your advice. Come on, Turk.”

Turk hesitated a moment when Faith didn’t follow. “Go on, boy. I’ll be right there.”

Turk dipped his head and followed Michael out of the hospital. When the door closed behind them, Faith turned to David and asked, “Okay, what is it?”

David shifted his feet again. “Something came up on one of Turk’s tests.”

A chill ran down Faith’s spine. “Something came up?”

“Yes. On the sensory test. Specifically, his sense of smell.”

Faith’s heart was beating faster now. Sensory degradation was often a sign of age-related problems in dogs. It wasn’t usually the first sign, though. That was typically arthritis or other joint problems followed by digestive issues. Why would Turk have issues with his sense of smell?

“What kind of something came up?”

“Well… he didn’t do so well.”

“Can you expand on that?”

David sighed. “I can pull up the results on my computer.”

“Or you can just tell me now and stop tiptoeing around the issue.”

David sighed again. “He missed three of five identification tests and was unable to locate an object hidden among other odors after being given the scent.”

Faith folded her arms across her chest. Her training told her it was an instinctual defensive action. It really bothered her that she knew that. “Okay. So what does that mean?”

“It might not mean anything. It could just be a fluke. It could be that we didn’t contain or reveal the scents properly. But… it could also mean that his sense of smell is compromised.”

“What do you mean compromised?”

“Basically what I said. “His sense of smell might not be up to snuff anymore.”

Faith looked away, her lips pushed out nearly in a pout.

“Like I said, it might not be serious. Protocol in this case is that we wait three weeks and conduct the test again with different odors for both tests. If he passes that retest, then he passes the sensory test, and everything’s hunky dory. And if not, well… we knew this day was coming.”

Faith whirled on him. “Excuse me?”

David realized his mistake too late. He blinked and took a step back. “I… I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that—”

“That I should consider my dog’s eventual death inevitable and not be concerned with health problems he has?”

"No," he said firmly. "Close to the opposite in fact. I meant that you should be prepared to pull him from the field if he fails. I don't need to tell you how serious it is if a K9's sense of smell is compromised."

“No, you don’t, and… Damn it, David!”

“There’s no way you can possibly blame me for this.”

She scoffed. “Way to make it about you.”

“You’re making it about me because it’s easier to be angry at me than to deal with your fear over the circumstances. That’s why I didn’t want Michael here with you.”

Anger lanced through Faith’s mind, but she controlled herself. David was right. She had just finished convincing the FBI brass to let Turk keep working with her, and now, a month later, his very first test past the mandatory retirement date popped up negative for smell.

She sighed. “Okay, well… Fine. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I just wanted you to have a chance to work through the initial outburst without Michael and Turk seeing it.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry too much about it. It’s just one test. I pass dogs on their retests all the time. Let’s not make this a disaster until it is, okay?”

She managed a smile. “Okay.”

“I love you, Faith.”

She felt a pang of guilt as she said it, but she said it anyway. “I love you, David.”

She joined Michael and Turk in the car. Turk greeted her exuberantly, and she ruffled his fur.

“Everything okay?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. It was just something about the paperwork he needed me to fix.”

“Gotta love paperwork. Heaven help you if you dot a T and cross an I.”

He put the car in gear, and they headed for the airport. Faith ruffled Turk’s fur again and took a deep breath. It was okay. It was just one test. There were any number of reasons it might have gone wrong. Turk was fine.

She told herself this, but the ache in her stomach refused to leave.