Chapter Twenty Six

The killer shook uncontrollably and refused to make eye contact when Faith and Michael entered the room. Turk walked past the two human agents and stood a single yard away from the man, glaring at him and growling low in his throat. The killer began to weep again and whispered, "Please. If you're going to kill me, just please make it quick."

"That's not how it works, Ethan," Faith said, taking a seat across from him. "Although fortunately for you, Washington is one of those states that thinks it's immoral to execute people, even people who execute other people." She smiled at him, but her eyes remained hard as glass. "But let's not bring politics into this. I told you you'd have a chance to tell your side of the story. Let's hear it."

Ethan Marlowe, the serial killer the media was now calling the Whistleblower, lifted bloodshot eyes to Faith and said, "Please stop lying to me. I know you can read my mind."

Michael sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Faith leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "You said that a few times while I was chasing you. What makes you think I can read your mind?"

"I know you can," he said. "You have super hearing. That's how you found me. The government gave you super hearing so you can read thoughts and hear things from far away."

Faith frowned. "I found you because my dog heard your whistle."

Ethan flinched. "You're giving that power to dogs too?" He trembled. "Why? We're good people. We're happy with the government. I mean, sure, some people complain about politics and laws, but we're not going to try to overthrow you."

Michael chuckled mirthlessly. Faith frowned at him, and he lifted his hands and turned away. She turned back to Ethan and said, "You think that those women could hear your thoughts because they had enhanced hearing?"

He jutted his chin out. "Why else would they be chasing me? Answer that!"

"Why do you think they were chasing you?"

"Because I could see them!" he hissed. "I could see them watching me!" He began to rock back and forth in his chair and said, "They would look at me when I thought about her. I would have to quickly think about something else so they didn't know."

"Know what?"

His eyes snapped to Faith's. His face paled, and he whispered. "Nothing. Nothing, there's nothing."

Faith leaned forward and folded her hands on the table. "I'm not going to lie to you, Ethan. You killed four innocent women."

"They're not inn—"

"They are. Whatever you might think you know about some government plot or superwomen or whatever, they were innocent, and you killed them."

"No," he shook his head. "No, no, they're not innocent. They were going to kill me."

"No, they weren't. You hunted them, Ethan."

"No, I just got to them before they got to me." He began to rock harder, bobbing his head up and down. "I had to. They were going to find out."

"Find out what?"

He looked at her again and began to whine plaintively. Turk growled at him, and he stiffened and stared at the dog, tears forming once more in his eyes.

"There's no point in hiding it," Faith said softly. "You're going away for a long time. There's no getting out of that. Telling me what they were looking for won't make things any more difficult for you."

Ethan's shoulders slumped. He let his head drop forward onto his chest. "You won," he said miserably. "I can't believe you won." He took a deep breath and said, "I killed her. Okay? It was me."

Faith and Michael shared a look. "Killed who?" Faith asked.

"Cherry. I killed her. I caught her sleeping with another guy, and I followed her home, and I knocked her over the head and threw her in my truck and dragged her to the forest to that old hunting lodge where no one knew about or ever went anymore, and I hit her and I stabbed her and I cut her up and I took pictures and then I buried her."

He began to rock again as he spilled the details of the horrific crime to the stunned agents. Faith was so shocked that she had to gather her thoughts for a moment before she spoke again. "You're saying you killed another woman before Maria Gonzalez?"

He bobbed his head up and down again, still rocking. "Yep, she cheated on me, so I killed her and cut her up and buried her. I told the guy I did it. I sent him a letter and said, "Your cheating whore is dead. I cut her into itty bitty pieces because she was mine, not yours, and you took her from me. Now you have to live knowing you fucked a dead whore.'"

"Jesus," Michael exclaimed. "You killed Cherry Waterson."

"Mmhmm," Ethan said. "Killed her and chopped her up. The police couldn't find her, so the… the… the… the government… the… the… the… FBI and the Navy SEALs and the Army, they… they… they made people with super hearing to find me because the police couldn't. But I'm sorry for killing her. I… I'm really sorry, and I never killed anyone again, and… and… and I just read books for a living now. You know those books they put on tape? I read them and they pay me, and that's what I do now. I'm a good person now. I became a good person, and… and… and she was a cheating whore, so why should I go to jail for killing her? But they found me, and they were listening to my thoughts to prove that I killed her, and I… I… I just didn't want to go to jail. But I'm here now."

He closed his eyes and slumped further in his chair. Then he burst into tears and sobbed, "Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just mad. Please don't send me to jail!"

Faith didn't reply. She didn't know what to say. Part of her wondered if Ethan was faking his insanity. She guessed the judge would order him to be examined by a psychologist to see if he was fit to stand trial, but if she had to guess, she would say that his mind was truly gone.

She pitied him.

She hated that she pitied him.

He was a killer. Even before Maria, he had murdered an innocent girl in a horrifically brutal way. He might have been insane then, but that didn't justify his actions. He wasn't innocent.

But was he guilty?

She wanted desperately to believe that he was. But she didn't know. All she knew for sure was that what happened to those women was tragic. Maybe what happened to Ethan was tragic too. Sometimes the killers were clearly evil, the Wests and Trammells and Bundys of the world.

And sometimes, they were just tragic.

Faith stood and walked wordlessly from the room. Michael and Turk followed her. Behind them, Ethan wept and begged and promised to be good, to never do anything wrong again, just please don't send him to jail.

When the door closed behind them, Faith sighed. She put her hands to her temples and pressed down until the pain brought her back to focus. When she opened her eyes, Michael stared at her with concern. "You all right?"

She considered lying but decided she was too tired to pretend. "No," she replied. "No, I'm not."

Michael nodded. "Me either."

The two agents stood where they were for several more minutes before Turk nudged Faith and led his two human companions from the precinct.

***

Faith sipped her coffee and closed her eyes, allowing the warm brew to permeate her body and release the tension she carried. It was the morning after Ethan's arrest, but Faith still felt uneasy. No, not uneasy. Unsatisfied. Usually closing a case brought a sense of accomplishment. This time, it just brought… well, nothing.

Turk nudged her, and she opened her eyes and lowered a hand to scratch him behind his ears. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. "I wish I could let things go as easily as you do, boy," she said wistfully.

Michael returned to the table a moment later. "Sorry about that," he said. "That was Wanda. She wanted to know what I did with the search report from Ethan Marlowe's apartment."

"What did you do with it?"

"I gave it to the detective from Seattle. I forget his name. Randish or Standish or something."

Faith chuckled. "How'd she take it?"

Michael shrugged. "I hung up on her. I swear to God, I've never seen a detective so desperate to take credit before."

"She's near the end of her career. Thirty years plus with a small police department in a quiet town. She probably saw this as her last chance at a legacy. Instead, the FBI caught her crook in spite of her mistakes, and then Seattle gets credit for the other cold case. I can't imagine that feels good. Did you find evidence?"

"Sure did. Ethan had a safe in his basement with the old murder weapon. About six dozen pictures, too."

She grimaced. "Lovely."

"Yeah, Not the word I would use."

"Fair enough." She sipped more of her coffee and focused on the comforting warmth percolating through her system. "How did you know about that case? The Cherry Waterson case?"

"My Behavioral Analysis instructor at the academy used it as an example of how some killers use a warped sense of justice to excuse their violent tendencies. She claimed that whoever killed Cherry had driven himself insane so he could convince himself that what he was doing was right, but the real reason was just jealousy and a belief that he had inferior masculinity. You know, because he went after the girl and not the man."

Faith shook her head. "I don't know if I believe that. I mean, Ethan was high-functioning up until a year ago. Maybe he just snapped finally, but…" she lifted her hands and let them drop. "What did the psychologist say? Do you know?"

"They're buying it. Looks like his defense is going to use not guilty by insanity. They'll win too."

Faith pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "I just… I don't know. Maybe that's a legitimate defense, but it sucks knowing that he's going to get away with it."

"Is he though? The facilities these guys get sent to aren't any different from prison. Except the guards are allowed to tie you to a chair and force-feed you pills. Wherever he ends up, he's in for a bad life."

"But it's a life," Faith replied. "It's better than nothing."

"Maybe," Michael replied. "Between you and me, I'm just glad that my part of the job's over. I have bad nights thinking about the victims I couldn't save, but I couldn't imagine being on a jury trying to figure out if it's right to torture a crazy person for the rest of their life because he thought he was protecting himself."

Faith wanted to reply that it was right, of course it was. Innocent people had a right to be safe, even if the killers that threatened them weren't entirely in control of their faculties.

But all she said was, "I'm glad my job's over too." It was the only thing about which she was one hundred percent sure.

"Hey, how about you and David come over for dinner on Saturday?" Michael asked.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You sure Ellie will be okay with that?"

"I think when I tell her it's a chance to meet David, she will be. If she knows you're dating someone else, and she can put a face to that name, then maybe she'll stop worrying about you and I as partners. Besides, it's a little weird that I'm your best friend and I still haven't met your boyfriend of over a year."

"Good point," she said. "Yes, we would love to."

"You don't need to ask him first?"

She gave him another sidelong glance. "No. Why would I?"

Michael sighed. "It must be nice to have all the power in the relationship."

"Considering the crap we have to put up with from men, I think it's only fitting that women should be in charge of at least some of the decisions in the relationship."

He laughed. "You mean all of the decisions, right?"

"We're getting along now," Faith replied. "Let's not ruin that."

"Fair enough. I wasn't quite sure how to backpedal my way out of this subject anyway."

"Well, here's your out. And anyway, I'm sure David would love to meet both of you. He's still pretty convinced he's my dirty little secret and not a man I see a future with."

"I don't blame him. You hide him like he's no more than a toy."

"I'm going to give you a chance to backpedal again," Faith said drily.

"Yep. I'm gonna take it. Looking forward to Saturday."

"Smart man."