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A transient memory of showering with Michael when they were together flitted across Faith’s mind.
“All right,” she replied, grabbing the keycard and shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans, then quickly leaving the room, Turk at her side.
She recalled the moment that passed between them at the field office the day she discovered Gordon’s murder. She didn’t think often of hers and Michael’s relationship. It had been over almost three times as long as it had lasted, but the feelings would return occasionally and with more power than she cared to admit.
He was, in many ways, her first love. She had experienced puppy love in high school and a brief but passionate fling with one of the staff sergeants in her platoon in the Corps sometimes fueled late-night fantasies, but Michael was the first person she could see herself spending her life with. The pressures of the job had snuffed the romance, but sometimes Faith wondered what might have happened if the two of them had made it.
She focused on her breathing and allowed her mind to settle, but this time it didn’t settle. Instead, it drifted back to the other frustrating case in her life.
The Copycat Killer was hunting her friends, and she was here trying to wrestle with one of the most elusive killers she’d ever looked for. David would be home in ten days. She knew she wouldn’t be able to convince him to stay away longer, and she doubted she could convince Michael to keep Ellie out of town. The two of them would be safe as long as Michael and Faith were home, but if they were called on a case again, the Copycat Killer would jump at that chance.
Faith wondered if she was losing her touch. She knew it was a foolish conclusion to reach, but she couldn’t help wondering. In ten years with the Bureau, she’d never lost a single case. The closest she’d come was the Donkey Killer, but even if she had been injured, she had still managed to lead Michael and the other agents to Trammell.
Since then, she had been nothing less than a force of nature in terms of her case-solving skills. She had shown cracks in other areas, but her intuitive and deductive skills remained sharp as ever.
Except when it came to the Copycat Killer. Twice, she had suspected people who were clearly not possible suspects. One of those had been the man who was now the most recent victim of the Copycat Killer. For whatever reason, her judgment when it came to the Copycat Killer was frayed.
No, not whatever reason. She couldn’t think clearly about the Copycat Killer because he was using the Donkey Killer’s MO, and despite over a year of therapy and two years with Turk as an emotional support dog as much as a K9, she was still traumatized by what she suffered.
Not for the first time, she thought the Boss was right to keep her off of the case. She couldn’t think objectively about it. She couldn’t apply her sharp reasoning skills to it because she couldn’t reason.
Maybe she should let it go. Maybe she should tell the Boss that she had had enough of the FBI and was ready to move on to the next chapter of her life. Maybe she would join a police department and handle smaller-profile cases and not have to risk her sanity the way she was with the Bureau.
Except that Michael and Ellie were still in danger. David was still in danger. She couldn’t just give up when the people she cared most about were under threat from the most prolific serial killer the Bureau had investigated in decades.
She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. Turk nudged her, and she looked down into his empathetic eyes. “Sorry, boy,” she said. “Mommy’s just losing it again.”
Turk barked solemnly, and Faith chuckled. She knelt down and scratched him behind his ears. “I’ll be all right,” she said, “I’m just having a bad day.”
She knelt next to Turk and stroked his fur, allowing her mind to sift through the case some more. She let her thoughts bounce and didn’t fixate on anything, letting her mind decide where to stop.
It stopped on Ellie, Michael’s wife.
Faith didn’t have a good reason to suspect her, and she didn’t allow herself to consider the woman seriously. She wouldn’t make the mistake of following that rabbit trail again.
But…
Ellie had given Michael the runaround for the entirety of their relationship. Whatever excuses Michael wanted to make for her, she had lied repeatedly about the state of her marriage to the mysterious Frank. She had promised to divorce him repeatedly and only recently actually followed through.
Well, that could mean anything. Divorces were ugly, and Ellie probably didn’t want her new relationship to be poisoned by the old relationship she was struggling to sever herself from. If Frank had been the primary breadwinner in their relationship, she might have had very good reason to avoid an official engagement with Michael until the divorce was finalized.
But…
When she visited them for dinner, Ellie had seemed to endure rather than enjoy Michael’s attention. She seemed to dole out affection mechanically, as though it were a conditioned response and not a natural reaction. She stiffened when he kissed her and tensed when he put his arm around her.
Well, there could be a reason for that too. Faith didn’t know anything about Frank. He could have been abusive, and Ellie’s behavior could be a reaction to her past trauma the way Faith’s moodiness in the months following the Donkey Killer incident was a reaction to her own trauma. That would also explain her desire to keep the details of her marriage and divorce private. If Michael found out about any abuse, he would absolutely go after Frank and get himself in trouble, and Ellie wouldn’t want that for the new love of her life.
But…
The moment Turk met Ellie, he was every bit as wary and distrustful as Faith was. He wouldn’t let Ellie anywhere near Faith and made it clear he didn’t want Ellie anywhere near himself either. He wasn’t exactly aggressive with her, but he watched her like a hawk and grew very defensive anytime Ellie approached either of them.
Well, Turk had been wrong about things before. He had openly attacked Gordon at the field office, and only Faith’s quick reflexes had saved Gordon from a mauling.
But…
Faith’s phone rang, startling her out of her ruminations. “Special Agent Bold.”
“Faith, it’s Tom.”
