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Faith watched the Indianapolis police cruiser speed away from the Carmel Police headquarters and sighed. “There goes the best lead we’ve had so far.”

Turk pressed against her leg, but even his beautiful brown eyes weren’t enough to cheer her up right now. She sighed and walked back to the break room where Slade waited. He handed her a coffee when he entered. “Made some already. Figured you’d need it. Hell, I need it.”

“Thank you.” She sipped the rich brew and shook her head. “So what now?”

He took a deep breath. “Well, I’m having some junior detectives follow up on the other attendees to see if maybe it was someone on the outside of the panel. Foster’s refusing to divulge the names of her customers, but IPD is going to work on her and get us that information as soon as they can. In the meantime—”

The door to the break room burst open, and Faith flinched and gasped.

ASAC Tabitha Gardner glared at her, her hands clenched into fists. “Bold? What the hell are you doing here?”

Faith blinked. “I… um…”

Slade tried to come to her rescue. “Faith and I were in the same criminal justice class. I heard she was in town and invited her over for a chat.”

His efforts came to naught. Tabitha didn’t even come close to buying his excuse. “A chat with a suspect, perhaps? Several suspects of several killings? Did you, perchance, Detective Slade, accept Special Agent Bold’s offer to assist in a serial killer case?”

Slade swallowed. “Faith was kind enough to offer her perspective on a case that I—”

“Yeah, I thought so. Bold, walk with me.” Turk growled low in his throat, and Tabitha stared at him in amazement. “Is your K9 unit threatening me?”

“He’s not threatening you, he’s just upset,” Faith replied. “Turk, calm down, boy.”

Turk glared at Tabitha but stayed silent.

“Walk with me,” Tabitha insisted. “Detective, you stay here. Your captain wants to have some words with you.”

Judging by Slade’s expression, he expected that his conversation would be as painful as Faith’s was. Judging by the look on the police captain’s face when Faith passed him in the hallway, Slade was right to be nervous.

Tabitha led them outside. She walked stiffly, her arms jerking back and forth rather than swinging, her heels clacking against the concrete. Faith had seen the Boss upset many times before, but she knew how to handle him when he was like that. Tabitha was an unknown quantity, and the little that Faith did know suggested that she would be far less forgiving than the irascible but generally lenient Monroe.

When they reached the side of the building where they could talk without being overheard, Tabitha spun around and glared at Faith. “You start, Special Agent. Tell me why you thought this was a good idea.”

“Detective Slade asked me for my assistance. The Carmel Police Department is unused to these kinds of cases, and he was afraid that they wouldn’t be able to stop this killer before he struck again.”

“And you thought that you should be the one to handle it and not the Indianapolis Field Office?”

Faith didn’t have an answer to that. Well, she did, but one she knew Tabitha wouldn’t accept.

“I’m waiting for your answer, Special Agent.”

Apparently, she’d have to give an answer anyway. “Slade asked for my help.”

“Your help specifically?”

“Yes. He knows me by reputation.”

“I’m so glad you mentioned that, Special Agent,” Tabitha said with mock cheerfulness. “We’re going to come back to that. In the meantime, I want to know why you didn’t tell him to contact the Indianapolis Field Office.”

Faith’s shoulders tensed slightly. Turk started to growl at Tabitha but remembered Faith’s command to stay calm and sat instead. “I wanted to help, ASAC Gardner.”

“That’s close to the truth,” Gardner said, “but I don’t think you wanted to help. I think any help you’re providing would just be icing on the cake. I think you wanted to work, and this was your way of getting around our instruction that you lay low. I don’t think this was about the victims at all. I think it was about you.”

Faith bristled. “That’s not true, ma’am. Turk and I discovered the second body. We were the ones who called it in. I’ve seen hundreds of bodies of people who have been used as showpieces by murderers. I have a unique skillset that makes me well-suited to hunting this specific type of killer. I’m better at it than anyone else. I don’t say that to be arrogant, ma’am. I’m only stating a fact. I am the most qualified individual to assist with this case.”

“And I assume you also believe you’re the most qualified individual to lead the Messenger case.”

Faith’s shoulders tensed a little further, but she held Tabitha’s gaze. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tabitha nodded. “Okay, Special Agent. Here are a few things to consider. I’ve also seen hundreds of bodies used as showpieces by brutal murderers. So have many, many field agents and managers and even directors in the FBI. It’s personal for all of us. You do have a unique skillset, and that skillset is the only reason you still work for us. You are the only agent who could get away with your continual flagrant disregard for policy and procedure and not permanently lose your position with the Bureau. That has paid enormous dividends. It’s also incurred enormous costs. Right now, Special Agent, the Indianapolis Field Office is enduring a near-assault from dozens of reporters wanting to know where you are, what you’re doing, and if you’re going to be transferred here to protect you from the Messenger.”

Faith flinched. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Of course you weren’t. You can’t be bothered to think about how your actions affect the Bureau or the other field agents you work with. Your job is to catch bad guys, and nothing else is important. Never mind that a lot of other bad guys are farther from being caught because the Indianapolis Field office is now trying to run interference to protect themselves from you. Never mind that the Philadelphia Field Office is without a leader once again. That doesn’t matter because you have to catch your bad guy because your few victims matter more than the many victims who will suffer because you can’t follow rules.”

Faith took a moment before replying. Tabitha's words hurt, but the ASAC was going too far, acting like the bureaucratic problems Faith's work created led to other killers getting away with murder. And anyway, why was the FBI so concerned with secrecy? Shouldn't the Bureau want criminals to know they were being hunted?

She didn’t bring up that point, but she couldn’t let Tabitha’s accusation stand. “I resent your implication that my desire to hunt serial killers is leading to innocent deaths, ma’am.”

“Tough shit. It’s true.”

“Can you prove that?” Faith snapped, finally losing her cool. “Have Indianapolis send me the files for every single person who dies because the press wants to act like dicks right now. While you’re at it, why don’t you tell me how many people you’ve saved by keeping me off of the Messenger case? I'd like to see exactly how many people are suffering because I'm not allowing you to muzzle me.

“Here’s what I think, ASAC. I think you’re upset because I’m a headache for you. I’m a headache for you because I don’t follow the Almighty Rules. I don’t always follow the letter of the Almighty Rules because the spirit of the Almighty Rules is to protect people from bad guys, and the letter of the Almighty Rules sometimes gets in the way of that.

“And you know the real reason I’m not fired? I’m right. That’s why. I respected SAC Monroe more than anyone in this damned Bureau, but he would have fired me at least three times that I know of. He didn’t. Not because he had a soft spot for me, but because I’m right . I protect people when no one else will. I catch bad guys when following the rules would result in them staying free. Sometimes it bothers the people who have to deal with the bureaucratic headaches it creates, but to quote a wise woman, tough shit. My job is to make sure innocent people don’t die. I don’t give a rat’s ass if that means a few hours of overtime for you or an unpleasant conversation with Director Smythe.”

Tabitha stared coldly at her. As Faith’s anger calmed, a touch of fear replaced it. She stood by what she’d said, but maybe it wasn’t wise of her to antagonize a brand-new SAC candidate who wanted to impress the brass by showing that she wouldn’t be intimidated by the star agent.

She couldn’t apologize, though. Doing that would invalidate all of the good points she had made, and those were points the Bureau needed to hear and understand.

When Tabitha spoke again, her tone was even. "I was warned that you would be a thorn in my side, Special Agent. I was told that you are an unparalleled detective with an unequaled passion for justice. That's absolutely true. I was also told that you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the possibility that any point of view besides your own could have merit. Unfortunately, that is also true.

“I’m going to share my point of view anyway. It costs the FBI about one hundred thousand dollars to prosecute a murder case. It costs anywhere from one to three hundred thousand dollars to investigate a murder case. In extreme cases like the West case, that number climbs well into the seven figures. Those numbers represent thousands of man-hours, a plethora of hard and soft resources, and a whole lot of the diplomacy you hate so much. We have to make deals with local law enforcement, local, state and federal prosecutors, and sometimes politicians. We have to manage interactions with the press so we can protect the integrity of our Bureau, our investigations, and our prosecutions. That diplomacy probably costs the equivalent of hundreds of thousands of dollars more for every case.

“Actions like yours make all of that hard work even harder. Especially the diplomacy part. Making those things harder means it’s harder for our field agents to do their jobs and protect innocent people. You’ve been sheltered from that fact for a long time. That was a mistake. Sheltering you has put the Bureau in a position where we are less capable of doing our jobs all to accommodate one agent who can’t be bothered to do hers when she doesn’t like what she’s told. That will no longer be the case.

"Yes, it's irritating. Yes, we should just be able to waltz in like cowboys, shoot the bad guys, and then ride off into the sunset. The problem is that it only happens in movies. This is real life. We don't have to like real life, but we have to live in it. We have to operate effectively in the real world, including all of the parts of it we hate. That's part of being an adult. So when I tell you that you need to grow up, I mean it very sincerely and officially as your supervisor.

“But, since I know you won’t grow up, I’m just going to tell you what will happen when I find out that you’ve ignored everything I’ve just told you. I will fire you. I will terminate your employment with the FBI. And I will sleep like a baby knowing that I’ve lost the best detective in the Bureau because you are every bit as poor an agent as you are great a detective.”

Faith was once again stunned into silence. She’d heard similar rants before, but none as pointed or as hurtful as this one. What hurt the most was that a lot of what Tabitha said was true. Faith still didn’t agree that muzzling her was the right choice, but she knew that Tabitha didn’t have the luxury of “riding off into the sunset” and letting someone else handle the irritating stuff.

And Faith knew that she willfully ignored the irritating stuff because she didn’t want to accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she was doing more harm than good.

“I have to return to Philadelphia,” Tabitha said. “So I won’t be here to babysit you. This is your chance to prove that you’re mature enough to make the tough choices, Special Agent. But I’m not holding my breath.”

She didn’t wait for Faith to reply. Faith stood where she was, listening to the sound of Tabitha’s heels clacking on the concrete as she walked away. She thought of Michael and Desrouleaux and Chavez and all of the other agents who were counting on her to come back. She thought of Turk and how hard she’d fought to stave off his retirement. She thought of how hard she’d fought to prevent her own dismissal several times before. If she didn’t toe the line now, Tabitha would think nothing of ending her career.

Then she thought about Dr. Rachel Summers, Dr. Lisa Patel, and Dr. Mark Chen lying in rings of stones with sunflowers covering their eyes. She thought of Dr. Emma Rodriguez weeping for the loss of her friends. She thought of the Boss lying in his backyard with his head split open, his blood used to taunt Faith, to dare her to lose hope and give up.

Her choice was clear.

“All right, Turk. Let’s go talk to Slade.”