CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

While Michael drove them back to their hotel, Faith sent a warning to the surviving former group members warning them of the danger and asking them to avoid going into the wilderness. Jake replied with a thumbs up, but Kelly and Graham remained incognito.

"I'm beginning to worry about Kelly and Graham," Faith said.

"Graham? You don't think he's the killer?"

"I'm not convinced yet," Faith said. "But if he is, then there's still Kelly to worry about."

"Do you want me to call Wyatt and see if we can put an alert out for her?"

She nodded. "Yes, please. Both of them. Just in case."

Michael dialed the number while Faith thought about what their next move was. Finding Kelly Connor and Graham Nash was obviously step one, but the police were going to have to handle that. They knew this area far better than the agents did, and the Alaskan wilderness was far too vast a place for them to trust Turk's nose to lead them to the killer fast enough.

The distance really complicated things. The killer could effectively disappear whenever he wanted to. Once he was finished taking his revenge or having his fun or whatever it was he was doing, he had hundreds of thousands of square miles of empty land he could go to. Hell, millions if he hopped the border into Canada. If he was a survivalist like his victims, then he could survive out there indefinitely and maybe even be happy that way. Faith was taught that there was no such thing as a perfect crime, but this spree sure as hell came close."

Michael sighed. "Right. I understand. Just do your best." He hung up and looked at Faith. "So he put the alert out, and they'll do their best, but he wanted to reiterate to us that there are far more square miles of land than their resources can cover. He would also like to remind us that eventually, the Anchorage Police Department and state and national park services are going to stop pouring the limited resources they have into this case. He didn't say this out loud, but I'm starting to get a strong impression that to a lot of people out here, these tragedies are just ‘something that happens.'"

Faith hadn't considered that, but now that Michael mentioned it, it made sense. People here were like people everywhere else in that they were mostly concerned with things that affected them and not concerned with things that didn't affect them. That was why Quint could downplay Garrett Pines's history of violence and play up all the good qualities he had. Garrett was Quint's friend. Ethan Holloway and Valerie North were not. That was why Wyatt felt a need to remind them at every turn that they probably wouldn't find anyone looking in the wilderness. Part of it was simple pessimism, since it truly was a daunting task, but part of it was the wilderness mentality that "the wild" just took people.

"Except this isn't the wild," she said out loud.

"Huh?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking that you're right. About the people here, I mean. Other than Robert Holloway, everyone has this stoic attitude about the murders. It's not like they're flippant about it, but no one's acting like it's a big deal. It's odd. In most places we've gone, there's an undercurrent of fear and tension in the community. Sometimes it's near-panic like Philly when West was on the loose, and sometimes it's under the surface like D.C. when Langeveldt was paralyzing people and dressing them up as his family, but it's always front-page news. Out here, it's like…"

"Like it's just the price you pay for living in the wilderness."

"Exactly. I guess part of the difference is that people here are more self-confident. They're more self-reliant, they carry guns, everyone has at least basic survival skills. They can probably fool themselves into believing that they can handle it if the killer comes after them, so they don't need to be afraid of this guy."

"They probably also know better than to go into the wilderness alone. I know there are ‘hardcore' survivalists, as Jake put it, but I think most people know to never travel without a partner."

"That too." She sighed. "Do you think we should look into their personal lives more? While we're waiting for a word on Graham and Kelly?"

"I think it's better than nothing," Michael agreed. "But if I'm honest, I don't think it's much better than nothing."

"Hey, none of that," she scolded. "They get to be pessimists, not us."

"Yeah, you're right. I guess the landscape out here is getting to me." He looked out the window at the already dimming sky. "Sunset at four in the afternoon. I don't know how people can live like this."

"I guess some people prefer darkness."

They fell silent again, but a moment later, Michael chuckled. "You know, we're never pessimistic at the same time."

"What's that?"

"You and me. We're never both pessimistic. Either we're both optimistic or one of us is down and the other is up. I think that's why we work so well together."

"We're a perfect match," she agreed.

She met his eyes, and her heart fluttered. She wanted to look away, but it had been so long since she felt those butterflies that she risked holding his gaze a moment longer. It was so weird to have these feelings for Michael again.

Michael lifted an eyebrow. "Do I have something on my face, or what?"

She looked away quickly. "No, sorry."

He grinned. "It must just be my rakish good looks then."

She laughed a little nervously, then said, "Michael… do you ever…"

Her voice trailed off as she struggled to find the courage to form the words. After a moment, Michael said. "It's hard to know if I do when you don't tell me what exactly it is."

"Do you ever think about us?"

His smile faded. He straightened in his chair and gave her a pensive look. Faith's face flamed, and she started to stammer an apology when her phone rang. She jumped and knocked the phone off of the table.

"Damn it. Sorry. I… hold on."

She picked up the phone and answered. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Hello, am I speaking with Special Agent Faith Bold?" a pleasantly inflected female voice asked.

Faith put the phone on speaker and set it on the table. Could this be a lead? "Yes, this is she."

"Sweet!" There was murmuring from the other side, then the woman said, "Miss Bold, what are your thoughts on Justice Schraeder's decision to allow live public broadcasts of Franklin West's trial?"

Faith sighed and rolled her eyes. A reporter. Great. That's what she got for not checking the caller ID. "I have no comment at this time."

"You don't feel that this is an opportunity for transparency in the most sensational legal case in the nation's history?"

She sighed again. "Have a nice day."

She hung up and pressed her palms to her eyes with a groan. "Seriously? They're going to start harassing me about West again?"

"Did they stop?"

She slumped. "No. I just usually let the calls go to voicemail and block the number."

"Well, now you have another number to block."

Her phone buzzed again. Another number she didn't recognize. She decided to let this one go to voicemail, but no sooner had this call finished than another followed. And another. And another.

"What the hell is going on? Is today bug Faith day?"

"I guess they just made the announcement," Michael said, looking up the story on his phone. "They're ready to begin the trial portion of his case, and they were deliberating over whether it would be a public or a private trial. I guess West's lawyers wanted a private one, but the state successfully lobbied for a public one."

"Well, whoop-de-god-damned-do," Faith snapped. "Lovely. Now I'm going to be story numero uno once again."

Michael shifted in his seat. "Yeah, there's something else."

Her phone buzzed. With a huff, she declined the call, then shut her phone off.

"Faith…"

"Yes, what is it?" she said curtly.

"The other murders. The electronics store clerk and your neighbor. People are starting to talk about how there's a new killer calling you out. That's right up there with West's case. Your name is in the news again. It looks like they tried to call the Boss, and he also declined comment."

Faith imagined the Boss's phone ringing uncontrollably like hers was. She imagined him sitting at his desk, staring out the window of his office and thinking to himself that it was time for Faith to rest on her laurels. She'd done good work, but now she was bringing bad press to the Bureau.

"Damn it!" she swore. "He's doing it!"

"Who is? Doing what?"

"Breaking me. West is breaking me. He said he would, and now he's doing it. Just by being on trial, he's putting my name out there and ruining my career. It's bullshit!"

"Relax," Michael said firmly. "West isn't doing shit. He's grabbing at every last ounce of attention he can have before he gets put in a concrete box and the world forgets about him."

"Yeah, and in the process, he's turning me into a liability. He might not have driven me insane, but he's taking me off the battlefield. He can't kill anyone, and I can't save anyone. The little prick!"

"Faith! Enough!"

Faith pressed her lips together and looked out the window. Her shoulders were bunched up by her ears, and her mouth was curled into a frown. Michael didn't say anything for a while. It hit Faith that her little outburst came right before the tantrum she'd just thrown about being an unwilling media darling. She lowered her eyes and said, "I'm sorry," in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't be sorry," Michael replied. "Let's just focus on this case, yeah? Then we can deal with… everything else… later."

Her shoulders slumped. She knew that everything else included more than just the attention she was receiving in the media. Damn it, why did she have to open her big fat mouth?

"Yeah," she replied. "Good idea."

Turk whined softly, and Faith scratched him behind the ears. "I'm all right, boy. Just… a lot on my mind."

They sat quietly for a moment. Then Michael said. "I'm going to run to the general store for some dinner. You want anything?"

"Whatever you want."

"All right."

He headed out, leaving Faith to wonder if she'd just witnessed the end of their friendship. And how long before her relationship with David ended too? If only she could go back to when things made sense.

But that wasn't how life worked. Once you made a mistake, you suffered the consequences of that mistake. Even if you lost everything.