CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The agents endured another frustrating day after finishing their conversation with Lisa. All three of the individuals she mentioned were unavailable. Phone calls went to voicemail, and homes were empty.

It wasn't an entirely useless day. Faith called Jake Thornton's office and confirmed that he worked late into the night most days and had only left the previous morning. He couldn't have killed Ethan Holloway and Valerie North.

He wasn't available to interview either, though, so any information he might have they would have to wait for. The other two were still up in the air as well. Kelly Connor didn't work. She lived on a trust fund left to her by her grandfather. That explained why she could be "committed" to survivalism and probably also why she thought herself entitled to sleep with whoever she wanted.

It could also mean that if she was denied something she wanted, she would react violently. Usually, though, people like that reacted in the moment. It took a lot of concentration and patience to set the traps the killer had set. In any case, she wasn't home.

That left Graham Nash. He hadn't been seen in months. Faith passed the information along to Wyatt, who promised to see about a search party but couldn't promise much unless they got real evidence that he might be involved. Which they couldn't do until they could talk to people. Unless a miracle fell into their lap, but Faith had a feeling they were fresh out of miracles.

So night found them frustrated and bored in their hotel room with nothing to do but speculate or make small talk. With precious little to speculate about, Faith focused on their most recent interviewee.

"What did you think of Lisa?" she asked.

Michael chuckled. "Seriously?"

She frowned. "Yes? Why not?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"Tell what?"

"Oh, come on, Faith. Tell me you could tell."

Her eyes narrowed. "If you think you're being funny, I promise you aren't."

He laughed again. "Faith. She was high as a kite."

Faith blinked. "You mean pot?"

"Yes! Come on, you couldn't tell? She was floating through the clouds. What did you think the incense was for? I guarantee you that she had plants in the basement she didn't want us to see. That's why she gave us that guff about not searching her property."

"I thought the incense was part of the whole ‘return to nature' lifestyle."

"No! Oh wow. You surprise me every day. Have you never smoked weed?"

"No. Have you?"

"Yeah, in college. Not often, but it happened. I think you're the only person I've met who's younger than me and hasn't smoked weed."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, ha ha. I couldn't tell she was high. Does this have to do with the case at all?"

"No, it's just funny. Wow. Good thing you went FBI and not DEA."

"Yeah, yeah. But it wasn't just the weed, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"She was hiding something from us. It wasn't just the weed."

"I'm pretty sure it was the weed."

"No," she insisted. "I don't think so. When she talked about the group, she treated it like a soap opera. She talked about them like they were characters in a TV show."

"Well, that's how a lot of people see others: as characters in their own lives. She was relieved when she heard we were here for murders and not the weed. The group was full of introverts who didn't really care for each other. Lisa was looking for conversation, and she didn't find it. They disbanded amicably, but Lisa was the one who officially threw in the towel. Is she a pleasant person for all of that? Not really, but we already know she has an alibi for the murders. As far as the others? I don't think she lied about them. I don't think she was correct about all of them. In fact, we know she wasn't because Kelly isn't committed to being a survivalist. It's just one of many interests she has. I just think she gave her best impression, helped along by her altered state of mind."

Faith pressed her lips. That didn't seem satisfying to her, but she didn't know why, so she just let it go. "Yeah. Maybe you're right." She sighed. "I think I'm just frustrated. We've had two very useless days in a row, and I'm concerned that all three of the other group members are out in the wild."

"You think there will be another murder?"

"There always is, isn't there?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, there is."

He looked out the window of their hotel room toward the darkening sky. It was only four in the afternoon. It wasn't the first time Faith had noticed that, but it just felt so strange. It was like night was eager to fall here.

She looked at his profile as he looked through the window. He was maybe twenty pounds heavier than the trim one-ninety he was when they dated. Gray crept gradually up his temples, and a few strays had already made their way into the rest of his hair. There were lines in the corners of his eyes, and the lines in his forehead didn't completely disappear anymore when his face was at rest.

He was getting older too.

She looked at herself in the mirror and tried to see if she looked different too. It hit her that she rarely looked at herself in the mirror. Even when she stood in front of it, she didn't really look at herself. It felt weird to do it now, but Faith felt weird in general right now. Maybe it was the chilly weather the long nights, or the frustration of the case. Maybe it was all of that combined with all of the changes in her life.

But she looked at herself now. Her face was still pretty. She was never exceptionally beautiful, but she was pretty enough. She had soft blue eyes that paired well with her long light-brown hair, and her features were symmetrical if not striking.

She thought she saw crows' feet in her eyes, but she couldn't be sure. They weren't as obvious as Michael's. There were no lines in her forehead, and the rest of her skin was as smooth as she remembered. Things were still firm where they were supposed to be firm and soft where they were supposed to be soft.

All in all, she thought she looked the same as she always did. If anything, the expression in her eyes was the only thing that indicated she wasn't the fiery young field agent of five years ago. They were calmer and more mature than before. More tired as well. They had seen darkness enough times to realize that light was an illusion.

So she was getting old too.

"Feeling self-obsessed tonight?" Michael asked.

She looked away and returned his smile. "I don't ever look at myself. I just thought maybe I should."

He nodded. "I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that."

She laughed, a genuine, full-bodied laugh. It felt good. As though a dam had been broken, the not-so-good feelings flooded out right after. She sighed and looked at Turk, who was calmly eating his dinner in a corner of the room. "I just hate that he's getting old."

Michael smiled sympathetically. "Yeah. I get that. I had a hard time when Rooster died." She met his eyes, and he quickly said, "Which won't happen to Turk for many more years. Look, retirement sneaks up on everyone, but it's not the end of his life. He's healthy and strong, and he has all of his faculties. I know that German Shepherds don't usually live past thirteen, but I've heard of a lot that make it past fifteen, and a couple who even make it to twenty."

She smiled at Turk. "Yeah. I know. I just… I got used to this. To us. You and me and Turk fighting crime together. I liked having a dog."

"Told you so."

"What?"

"I told you you'd like him. You remember? You said you didn't want a dog, and I made you take him."

"What? No, I… really?"

"Really. You even used curse words."

She looked back at Turk. "Huh. I guess I forgot that part. I don't really think about the whole hospital stay, but that's where it all started. We both had to recover from Trammell, and we did that together."

"You did. And he'll be your dog whether he's out fighting crime with you or chasing squirrels in your backyard. He did good. He had a good run. Now it's time for him to rest. And hey, if you want to join him, there are ASAC jobs all over the country. You could even stay close to home. The Boss will never take an ASAC, but you could go to New York or Baltimore. That's only a couple of hours away."

"I'm not coming out of the field," she said. "I can't run a desk any more than the Boss can kiss Director Smythe's ass."

Michael chuckled at that. "Well, my point with Turk still stands. Besides, he'll have David."

"I don't want to live with David," she said.

Michael looked at her in shock. Faith didn't need to look at her reflection to know that the same shock was written on her own face.

Michael broke the awkward silence that followed. "Again? I thought you dealt with your cold feet."

"I thought so too," Faith said, "but after everything that's happened recently with West, this new killer, Turk's retirement, my own possible forced retirement, therapy… it's just a lot. It's a lot of changes, and… thinking about all of them, the move is one that I really don't want to make."

"You don't want to make any changes, Faith. I love you, but that's not a strength of yours."

Faith felt a jolt of emotion at those words. She knew he didn't mean them the way they sounded, and she knew that they had their shot together and had missed. Still, she remembered when they did mean something, and when she meant something back. She had felt that way about David once, but that was then and this was now, and there was so much going on, and she couldn't talk to David about them, but she could talk to Michael, and—

She sighed. "He just doesn't understand me the way you do."

Michael stiffened at that. Faith frowned, not sure why he was reacting that way for a moment. Then she replayed what she'd said in her mind. Her eyes widened. "Oh God. Oh. No, I didn't mean…"

Her phone buzzed. Grateful for the distraction, she picked it up. It was Wyatt.

"Hey, Wyatt," she answered. "Um… glad you called." Michael frowned at her, and she cleared her throat, then said in a far more professional voice, "What do you have for me?"

"We just got a call from a Mr. Robert Blackwood."

Faith's emotions faded in the face of the shock and fear that came to the surface. She put the phone on speaker and said, "What did Mr. Blackwood have to say?"

Michael immediately paid attention to the phone as well.

"He came home, and his wife wasn't there. That's not normally unusual, but he said the two of them had an evening planned together, and she would always call him if their plans changed. She didn't call him, and he's been home for an hour now. He's worried that something happened to her."

Faith and Michael shared a grim look. Personal issues would have to wait. "Where are you now?"

"We're at the Blackwood residence still."

"We'll meet you there."

She hung up and called Turk. The three of them rushed to their truck, all thoughts of the future forgotten. The worst-case scenario had happened. Faith tried to tell herself that there was a chance Lisa was still alive, but she knew better.

The hunter had taken his prey once more.