Page 67 of So Scared


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It was fairly common for copycats to be less careful about their MOs than the originals. They were, after all, imitators, and the need to honor their idols was greater than their common sense.

Well, that worked just fine for Faith.

She didn’t follow Jared this time. She waited five minutes after he left, then drove to the address where she knew she would find him.

She reached the apartment and found his car parked right in the street as usual. She got out of the car and let Turk out, then strolled casually to the gate. The lock was broken. Faith had verified that earlier. No doubt the owners didn’t feel a need to replace it because this was a small town, and if anyone intended to rob someone else, they would have to do it looking over the barrel of a shotgun.

Faith steadied herself and prepared for a confrontation. She knocked on the door. Turk tensed slightly, his tail switching back and forth.

“Who is it?” Jared’s voice called from inside the house.

“22E,” she said, naming a unit she knew was vacant. “I just moved in. I was hoping you might help me with some of the furniture. It’s really heavy.”

She kept her voice lilting and soft, putting just enough flirtation into it to suggest that if Jared helped her, she might be willing to reward him with something later. It worked. She heard him shuffle to the door. When he opened it, he said, “What the hell are you doing at my house? If you want …”

He stopped when he saw who he was talking to. His eyes widened. “You.”

“Me,” Faith said.

She planted her hand on his chest and shoved him hard. He was close to twice her size and all of that weight was muscle, but he was caught off guard and stumbled backward. By the time he recovered, Turk was standing in front of Faith, growling and snapping, driving him backward into the apartment.

Faith entered, closing the door behind her. She walked forward, allowing Turk to back Jared up until he sat heavily down on an ancient, corduroy easy chair.

The rest of the apartment was similarly dilapidated. It looked like a picture of a pot dealer’s house from the eighties with mismatched furniture, posters of bands that hadn’t been popular since Faith’s parents were teenagers, and even a lava lamp.

“Hey there,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s talk.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled.

Faith smiled mirthlessly. “If you aren’t honest with me right now, I’ll have Turk here make sure you can never fuck anyone again.”

His face went white as a sheet, and Faith felt a thrill knowing she had this much power over him. “So,” she said, “big fan of the Donkey Killer, huh?”

“The what? What the hell are you talking about?”

Faith clucked her tongue. “Lying to me? Not good, Jared.”

“I don’t know who the Donkey Killer is,” he said, “but if I’m stepping on his toes, I am truly sorry.”

Faith blinked, confused. “Stepping on his toes?”

“Yeah,” he said, “look, I’m from Philly. I saw you out there, and I thought you were a cop, so I ran away. I’m just holing up here until … well, I guess there is no suspicion to hide from. Anyway, look, I’ll stop selling here. I don’t want any trouble. I’ll go back home and just sell to my neighborhood in Philly. I’m small time, man, you don’t have to worry about me, and neither does the Donkey Killer.”

Faith’s smile faded. “What exactly do you sell, Mr. Greenwood?”

“Dope mostly,” he said. “Blow, a little crank. I used to sell crystal, but you can’t get that anymore unless you buy from the bikers, and I don’t mess with them.”

Faith sighed and rubbed her temples. “I see,” she said.

“I’ll stop, though,” he assured her. “I don’t want trouble with anyone.”

He looked at Turk and swallowed. Turk looked at Faith and seeing her expression, he sat and calmed.

“Mr. Greenwood,” Faith said, “I …” she gritted her teeth, “… I owe you an apology. I’m not an enforcer. I’m not a cop either. I’m an FBI agent.”

His brow furrowed. Then his eyes widened. “Hey, you can’t use any of that!” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Faith. “That was obtained under duress! That’s an invalid confession!”

“I’m not going to bring you in for drugs,” she said. “I came here to ask you about a series of murders in the Philadelphia area.”

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