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But part of him wished he had kept Turk for himself. He had wanted to get a dog for him and Ellie, but after Turk had inexplicably taken an immediate dislike to Ellie, that plan had gone out the window.
Michael still suspected that Turk’s behavior could be explained by jealousy on Faith’s side. The two of them might not be romantically involved anymore, but they were still close friends as well as partners, and from day one, Faith had been ambivalent about Ellie. She claimed it was only concern for her friend, but Michael wasn’t sure he believed that.
He recalled his argument with Ellie earlier where for the first time she admitted her concern that he and Faith shared hotel rooms on assignment. He didn’t believe Faith had any more romantic interest in him than he felt for her, but she might still be possessive of him as though he belonged to her.
Or maybe he was just worked up over the fight with Ellie, and he was overthinking things. God, he hated leaving the house angry.
“Prince! Bold! Turk!” a familiar gruff voice called. “This isn’t a damned mixer! Get your asses in my office now! The rest of you back to work!”
The crowd dissipated slowly. A few of the more tenured agents offered exaggerated salutes and acknowledgments to the owner of the voice and earned themselves a glare. Michael, Faith, and Turk proceeded to the office of the Special Agent in Charge of the Philadelphia Field Office, Grant “The Boss” Monroe.
The Boss was a nickname given to Monroe by Jack Preston, a mentor of Michael’s and the shining star of the Philadelphia Field Office prior to Faith’s ascendance. The Donkey Killer, Jethro Trammell, had killed Preston and nearly killed Turk and Faith during the FBI manhunt that eventually led to Trammell’s death at Michael’s hands. Preston had been Monroe’s favorite back in the day, and he allowed the nickname to stick.
So now, he was known and addressed simply as the Boss or Boss. Gloria Chavez, one of the newest agents, had confided to Michael that she didn’t even know his real name, a fact Michael found absolutely hilarious. He’d tried to convince the others not to tell her, but her partner, Desrouleaux, a fifteen-year veteran as no-nonsense as Monroe himself, had spilled the beans and scolded Michael for picking on the new kid.
“Prince!” The Boss’s voice cut through his musings. “What did I just say?”
Michael smiled. “I heard you, Boss, but I can’t, I’m sorry. I have a girlfriend.”
The Boss glared at him. Faith rolled her eyes. Turk made a panting noise that Michael recognized as the dog’s way of laughing. He grinned widely into the Boss’s glare and the Boss said, “Real funny, Prince. When it’s Ellie’s body they’re digging out of a fresh grave, I’ll make sure to laugh too.”
Michael’s smile vanished. He felt an instinctive twinge of anger at the Boss’s words, but he knew he deserved it, so the anger disappeared before it could stick. “Sorry, Boss,” he said, “I’ve had a rough day.”
“Suck it up, Prince,” the Boss said, and again, Michael had to admit he deserved that. “Marvin Prescott and Barbara Ames had a worse day than you did.”
“Those are the victims?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” the Boss said, “and consider yourself lucky, because I’ve only repeated myself to three people in my life and two of them were my parents.”
He walked behind the desk and reached into one of the drawers. Faith glanced questioningly at Michael and he shook his head slightly. The message was clear.I’ll talk to you later.
The Boss tossed a file on the desk and Faith reached over and opened it. Michael whistled when he saw the photographs. “Buried alive, huh?”
“Yep. In graveyards.”
“Jesus,” Michael said. “This guy’s sick.”
“They usually are,” Faith said.
“The victims were found buried in freshly dug graves in different cemeteries in the Houston area,” the Boss explained. “One cemetery was in Houston itself, the other an hour outside of Houston in the town of Humble.”
“Any connection between the victims?” Michael asked.
“They’re both in the medical field,” the Boss replied. “Prescott was a paramedic, Ames was an ICU doctor.”
“Did they interact with each other?” Faith asked.
“I don’t know,” the Boss said. “Ames worked at one of several hospitals contracted with the Houston Fire Department. It’s possible that they interacted, but if you want to know for sure, you’ll have to dig through their records.”
“We’ll put it on our list,” Faith said.
“They were for sure buried alive?” Michael asked. “Not killed beforehand?”
“Buried alive,” the Boss confirmed. “Cause of death asphyxiation. The coroner estimates they were alive around four hours before they ran out of air.”
“Christ,” Michael whispered. “That’s awful.”
His mind traveled back to the first case he and Faith had taken after her recovery. A mentally ill man in Morgan County, Missouri, had trapped thirteen women in abandoned wells over seven years. Faith and Michael had been called for the last two of those victims and narrowly saved the life of victim fourteen. Michael could only imagine the terror those women felt as they waited to die.
