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The killer had been named the Demon of Morgan County because he “dragged his victims to Hell.” It was a rather foolish and insensitive nickname, but that tracked with the media.
He wondered what they would call this psycho.
“Interesting thing,” the Boss said. “Both graves were rigged with bells so the victims could call for help.”
Faith’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really,” the Boss confirmed.
“Were the bells functional?” Michael asked.
“They were functional,” the Boss confirmed, “but the victims were buried at night, so there was no one around to hear them.”
“Psychological torture,” Faith concluded.
“That’s the going theory,” the Boss confirmed. “Anyway, you two know the drill. Your flight leaves in two hours, so if you need to pack a bag, do it quickly and get to the airport.”
The three of them stood. Michael reached for the file, and the Boss pressed his hand on top of it. Faith paused and the Boss said, “He’ll meet you outside.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Faith nodded and led Turk outside.
Michael lifted his eyes to meet Monroe’s and the older man said, “You good to work, Prince?”
“Yes,” Michael said, a little surprised. “I’m fine. Problems at home, sir. They won’t affect my performance on the job.”
“They already have,” the Boss reminded him. “You’re not the kind to daydream. I appreciate all your help getting Bold back up to speed and keeping a lid on her antics until she got her head back in the game, and I hate to sound like I’m picking favorites, but I can’t have you losing your shit on me. Bold’s not ready to babysit you the way you had to babysit her, so if you need to sit this one out, let me know now and I’ll have Clark go with Bold.”
“I’m good, Boss,” Michael said firmly. “This won’t happen again.”
The Boss kept his hand pressed on the file a moment longer before nodding and saying, “All right, Prince. Scram.”
Michael left the office. Faith and Turk fell into step beside him and headed toward the break room, but Michael passed it without stopping and headed toward the exit.
“No coffee?” Faith asked.
“Not from here,” Michael said. “I’ll pick up a cup from that Italian place at the airport.”
“Wow,” Faith said, “youreallyhad a bad day.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it,” he said grouchily.
“That’s fine with me,” Faith said. “I don’t want to talk about my bad day either.”
“Good,” Michael replied. “Want to talk about favorite sexual experiences instead?”
Faith rolled her eyes. “No, except to say that none of them involve you.”
Michael grinned and did his best Sean Connery impression. “That’s not what your mother said.”
She chuckled and snorted, and Michael threw his head back and laughed.
“Screw you!” Faith said.
“Well, I would, but apparently, I wasn’t any good,” Michael quipped.
She rolled her eyes again. “Oh my God. No wonder Ellie’s mad at you. Are you like this with her?”
Michael’s smile faded, and Faith said, “I’m sorry. Bad joke.”
