Chapter Nineteen

Michael ordered Chinese food for dinner. Faith appreciated that. She always ate takeout Chinese when she was feeling down about a case. Michael only ordered it when he was with her and only when she was feeling upset. It was one of the little things he did to show Faith he cared. He was a good friend.

But she didn't need a friend right now. She wasn't down about the case, she was down about herself. She wasn't upset because this killer was elusive, she was upset because she was chasing shadows. She needed someone to make her feel better about herself, and there was one person on Earth who could do that better than anyone.

So, after dinner, she stepped onto the balcony while Michael showered and called David.

David was normally in bed early on a worknight, but he answered on the first ring. That was one of the ways he showed he cared. He would always pick up for her.

"Hey, baby," he said. "How's it going?"

Faith grinned. Just hearing his voice made things a hundred times better. "Hi, David," she replied. "Um… not so good. I'm really not doing well on this one."

"Uh oh. What's going on?"

"Um…" she sighed. "I'm just not on my a-game. It really sucks because when I'm not on my a-game, people die."

"People die because murderers kill them," David said firmly. "Not because of anything you do."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. But—"

"No buts. You are not the reason that anyone is dead, understand me?"

"I know, but—"

"Nope. This conversation doesn't move forward until you tell me that you know it's not your fault that anyone is dead."

"I know. I know it's not my fault. I just…"

"Uh uh. Say it. You have to hear yourself say it, or you'll keep feeling guilty."

She smiled softly. He knew her so well. "I know it's not my fault that anyone is dead."

"Good. Now that we've got that out of the way, tell me what's going on."

She sighed. "I mean, that's pretty much it. Someone's killing women, and I'm chasing every squirrel that runs across my path. Meanwhile, the real killer is moving around unseen because I'm too busy chasing false leads."

"Well, it's your job to follow every lead, right? Not all of them are going to lead anywhere. You have to eliminate the impossible before you find the whatever remains that must be the truth."

She grinned. "Nice Conan Doyle reference."

"Thank you. See? I read the books you give me."

She giggled. "Good to know. I'll make sure to get you four or five really thick ones for our anniversary."

"Why do you think that I don't like reading? I have a doctorate. I'm smart."

She laughed again and said, "I know. That's why I'm going to get you books."

He sighed. "I still feel like you're teasing me, but I can't tell how."

"Good."

He chuckled. "Asshole. But you understand my point, right?"

She sighed. "I do, but this isn't me eliminating the impossible. This is me grasping at straws. I just feel bad because I feel like I'm not one hundred percent."

"I already know what you're going to say," David said, "but I feel a need to point this out anyway. You were just attacked by a serial killer who has tried to kill you multiple times, not to mention me and Turk. You're allowed to be a little off your game."

"No, I'm not. Not this game. If I'm off my game, people die."

"I knew you were going to say that," he replied, "and I know what you're going to say when I tell you the next thing. But it would be perfectly fine for you to take some time off."

She sighed again. "I know. But I'm here now. I can't just run home and let someone else do my job. I can't leave Michael alone."

"I've known you long enough to know there's no point in arguing any further about that," he said. "Instead, I'm just going to tell you that you've called me feeling this way several times before."

"Not about me being the reason for it."

"The specifics are different, but the general idea is the same. You want to solve these cases before anyone else gets hurt, and you take it personally when you can't do that. That drive to help people is what makes you a great detective."

"I don't feel like a great detective."

"Then stop focusing on yourself."

Faith blinked. She had called David to feel better about herself. Having her bluntly tell her that she needed to stop thinking about herself at all was not the direction she anticipated this conversation going. "I get that it's not all about me," she replied. "I just… I don't know. I feel bad. I messed up."

"I know. It sucks. I mess up sometimes too. But when I mess up, I can't just feel bad about my screwup. If I mope around about the mistakes I make, I make more mistakes and my patients die.

"I don't know your job, Faith. I don't know what you deal with, and I can only guess as to what making a mistake will feel like for you. But I feel pretty confident in saying that you have to find a way to get over those mistakes and keep moving forward. So, since you won't come home and take a break like a normal person, you need to put your personal feelings aside and leave your mistakes in the past. Dwelling on them won't help your victims. It won't catch your killer."

She pressed her lips together. "You're right. I'm being selfish. I need to just refocus and do my job and not think about my mistakes up to this point."

"And you need to remember that you have caught every single killer you've ever gone after. Even Trammell and West. Sure you had help with both of them, and you had help with a lot of the others too, but you found them. All of them. You brought them to justice. You made sure they couldn't hurt anyone else ever again. Every time. You'll get this guy, too. Or girl. Are any of them girls?"

"Not many," Faith said, "but some."

"Then you'll get this bitch."

Faith giggled and David said. "See? You're feeling better already. You're Faith motherfucking Bold. Killers have nightmares about you. There's a reason the FBI has your picture on the home page of their website."

"They don't have my picture on the home page."

"Well, they should. What the hell's going on with the brass down there? I'll make some calls. You should have an entourage, for God's sake. You're a superhero."

She giggled again and said, "Well, I don't know about that. But it's nice to hear anyway. Thank you, David."

"Anytime, my love."

No disappointment on Earth was enough to dim the glow in Faith's heart right now. She loved him so much. Not only had he made her feel better, but he'd also snapped her out of her self-focus and reminded her that she needed to move past her mistakes, not dwell on them.

"I miss you," she said softly. "I wish you were here right now."

"Me too. Maybe I could help catch dog criminals using my keen understanding of the canine mind."

She giggled. "Yeah, that would be fun. You could be the dog whisperer. Oh wait, they already have that."

"We'll think of a name. Something cool. Ooh, how about K9 Kop?"

"I think they have that too."

"Damn it. Well, we'll come up with something."

She laughed again. Then an idea came to her. "Hey, maybe you actually can help."

"Oh yeah? Shoot."

"So our victims all have exceptional hearing," Faith said. "Think humans who can hear dog whistles."

"Dog whistles?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to find a killer who might be connected to all of the victims because of their hearing. I'm convinced that the killer's luring them to him with some sort of high-frequency sound device."

"Why not a dog whistle?"

"It might be a dog whistle. I'm just trying to think about how that connects back to our victims."

"Hmm… Did any of them have dogs?"

"No, but they had neighbors who had dogs. That's what led us to the connection, actually."

"The dogs all freaked out when the murders were committed."

"Yeah."

"Well… I don't know if I can help you figure out a killer other than that it could be anyone who owns a five-dollar dog whistle. But you might get a lead if you have PD help you."

"Help me with what?"

Have them put out a public service bulletin to call the police if citizens hear or see dogs behaving strangely. Then, the police follow up on any calls that seem legit. It's a bit like using a sledgehammer to pick a lock, but if the door opens either way, does it matter if you pick the lock or smash the door?"

A grin spread across Faith's face. "I guess not. Damn, babe. That's actually a good—"

The sliding balcony door interrupted her. She turned around to see Michael staring at her. His expression wiped the grin from her face. "Faith, there's been another murder."

The glow in Faith's heart went out instantly. "God damn it."

"What is it?" David asked. "Faith, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, no. I mean… there's been another murder."

"Oh God. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," she said, her shoulders slumping. "Me too. I have to go."

She hung up and pressed her palm to her face. She allowed herself two seconds of emotion, then pulled her hand away and said, "All right. I'll get dressed."

This was a crushing blow, but she was determined to follow David's advice. She wouldn't dwell on her own disappointment. She would focus on finding their killer.

And just like with every killer before, she would find them. No matter what it took.