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That was far too weak of a premise to report him, though, and anyway, she wanted to be the one to bring him in. If the Boss knew she was out tailing a suspect on the copycat killer case, she would probably be confined to her desk for the remainder of her career.
Well, this should have been her case. It should be her case now. She had the most experience with the original Donkey Killer. She should be the one to bring in this copycat.
Let’s see how you bleed, little girl.
“You first, asshole,” she muttered.
She sighed and depressed the accelerator, far more gently this time, and headed home.
***
Faith struggled against the ropes that tied her wrists and ankles to a wooden chair set in the middle of the barn. Soft light filtered through a single, high window above, illuminating a wheeled surgical tray atop which lay an assortment of rusted, stained scalpels, knives, and bone saws. She strained against her bonds, but they held firm.
She took a breath and struggled to remain calm. She looked around for anything she could use to free herself, but the barn appeared empty save for her chair and the surgical tray. She sighed and tried to slide the chair closer to the tray only to find it bolted to the floor. She was trapped.
A sliver of light sliced the air in front of Faith, searing her eyes. She cried out and squeezed her eyes shut until the light disappeared. When she opened her eyes again, her vision was fuzzy. She blinked several times, and when her vision cleared, her breath caught in her throat.
Jethro Trammell approached, his lips split in a wide, manic grin, revealing cracked, yellowed teeth. He stopped in front of the tray and selected his tool of choice—a rusty, pitted knife. As he drew closer, Faith could see that the rust wasn’t rust at all but dried blood.
“Well, hello there, little girl,” Jethro said in a tremulous, lilting tenor that contrasted sharply with his massive, heavily muscled appearance.
He approached closely to Faith and said, “The others cried when I cut them. Will you cry?”
“Fuck you,” she spat.
He smiled almost jovially. If not for the crazed light in his eyes and the loving way he caressed the blood-stained blade of his knife, he might have looked like a hillbilly Santa Claus.
He pressed the knife lightly to Faith’s neck and slowly brought the blade down her throat and over her breasts. He knelt and slid the knife downward until it rested just above her knee.
She wouldn’t scream. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He could hurt her, but she wouldn’t let him hear her scream.
He slid the blade of the knife behind her knee and leaned forward until his lips nearly brushed her ear. His breath was sour and acrid, and her nostrils flared as he exhaled.
“Let’s see how you bleed, little girl,” he said softly.
With one swift motion, he severed the tendons behind her knee. Faith’s will evaporated, and despite her promise, she screamed.
Faith sat up with a start, drenched in sweat. She breathed heavily, blinking, and struggling to get her bearings. She felt a twinge of pain behind her knee and cried out, her hand flying to the site of her old injury.
She heard a bark and a flurry of feet, and a moment later, Turk leapt into the bed next to her. He stared at her, his face etched with concern as clear as it would be on any human. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly until her heartbeat slowed.
“Sorry about that, boy,” she said. “Just another nightmare.”
Turk barked once as if to say, “Don’t worry about it.”
Faith squeezed him a moment longer, then released him. He hopped off the bed and waited at the foot. Faith sighed. “Yeah, I’m not sleeping anymore anyway.”
She rolled out of bed, and another twinge of pain in her knee caused her to grimace. It had been weeks since her injuries had acted up. The episode with Jared Greenwood must have affected her more than she thought.
She headed to the kitchen and started coffee. “You hungry, Turk?” she asked the big German shepherd.
Turk stared at her frankly, and she laughed. “Of course, you are. Foolish question.”
While the coffee percolated, she filled his bowl halfway with kibble, then opened a can of the fancy, fortified wet food David had recommended. She smiled as she thought of David. They had been dating the past month, which wasn’t very long, of course, but long enough for Faith to realize her infatuation with him wasn’t a summer crush.
With Turk eating happily, Faith poured her coffee and sat at the table, staring ahead at the wall. She checked her phone. Seven-thirty. So, she hadn’t woken early, she’d woken late. Well, that was okay. She had the day off.
Her phone rang, and when she saw the number, she frowned. It was from the station, but it was an extension she didn’t recognize. She answered and a mellow, cultured voice said, “Good morning. May I speak with Special Agent Bold, please?”
