Chapter Twenty Eight

Faith walked into her apartment and grinned as ninety pounds of fluffy love leaped into her arms. She laughed and endured fifteen seconds of face-licking before putting Turk down and saying, "Stop it. You'll make David jealous."

Turk barked happily and tried to jump into her arms again. She turned her face away this time and said, "All right, all right, relax. I love you too. Calm down. If you want steak for dinner, you need to chill and let me change and wash my face, okay?"

Turk immediately plopped to a seat and stared at her. "Yeah, I thought that would work," she teased. "Can't get this guy to sit for guests, but say the word steak and he's the golden puppy."

She giggled and quickly changed. She giggled again when she saw herself in the mirror. She really wasn't a dress girl, but she was very much a David Friedman girl, and the look he got in his eyes when she wore a skirt was enough to make the awkwardness worth it. Besides, she wouldn't be wearing it for very long.

She giggled again at that thought and quickly washed her face. She considered reapplying her makeup but settled for just a touch of lipstick. Less stuff to smear.

She reddened at that thought and decided it was a good thing she hadn't put any more color in her cheeks. Boy, she was in a mood today!

Well, it was David's fault. He had to wear his sport coat with his white button-down the night before. He knew how hot she got when he dressed up.

Now it was her turn to dress up. See how he liked it.

He would, of course, like it very much. Which, of course, was the point.

Her phone buzzed. David. She giggled and decided to send him a picture of herself in the dress. She took the picture and opened the text, prepared to send her response without even reading it.

But when she saw the picture attached to David's text, thoughts of lovemaking vanished from her mind. The world spun around her, and her hands trembled badly enough that she nearly dropped her phone.

"Oh no," she whispered. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

David had been beaten so badly he was nearly unrecognizable. His boyishly handsome face was pulped and bloody. His jaw had been broken, and his nose had been flatten against his cheek.

"Oh God, no," she whispered again.

Turk barked and rushed to her side, snarling and growling as he leaped around her, looking for the threat.

But the threat wasn't here. The threat was outside. Out of her home and out of jail. Somehow, West had escaped.

And now he was breaking her.

I think I'll finish the job this time read the caption underneath David's image. I told you, Faith. You knew this would happen.

Faith's car was skidding around the corner of her street before she even realized she had left the apartment. Turk was in the passenger seat, alternating between growling out the window and casting worried glances Faiths' way.

Faith was rarely a sedate driver, but she was never a frenetic driver. Her habits rested comfortably in between Michael's daily-driving doldrums and Michael's Hollywood wannabe pursuits.

But today she pushed every cubic inch of the Ford Modular V-8 in her old Crown Victoria to the limit as she drove to David's house.

Please let him still be there. Please let him still be okay. God, please let him still be okay.

She skidded to a halt in front of the house and ran to the door. She didn't bother knocking but put her shoulder down and burst through the door. Something popped in her shoulder, and she cried out in pain, but when she moved her arm, it still worked, so she would deal with the pain later.

"David!" she screamed. "West, I swear to God, if he's dead, I'll fucking kill you!"

She ran to the bedroom. David wasn't there. She blinked and looked around. The bed was a mess, but it was the same mess she had left behind that morning. Her panties were still on the floor, tossed absently when the two of them had decided that dinner could wait.

She ran to the living room and saw no signs of a struggle. The only disturbance at all was the door she had just broken.

"What the hell?"

Her phone buzzed again. Another picture from David's phone. This time, it was the cabin, the one where West had beaten her unconscious the first time they had fought face to face.

Figured this was as good a place as any to finish what I started, the caption read. Come join him. I'll finish you too.

"Like hell," Faith said.

This time, there would be no waiting. There would be no questioning. There would be no arrest. Faith would see him, and she would shoot him. He wouldn't get a chance to taunt or explain or spend his life in prison. Faith would do what she should have done the first time she went to the cabin. She would kill West, and if she went to prison for it, she'd do it with a smile on her face.

She pulled out of the house and went screaming down the street, headed toward the Titmouse River. The Crown Vic wasn't designed for off-road, but it was a sturdy body-on-frame former police interceptor, and she could get it damned close before she broke it. It was a shame about the car, but she could get another.

But…

West said he was going to finish what he started. Where did he start it? Obviously, he was referencing the encounter with Faith where he let her live, but where did he take David? Not from the house, obviously. Where? From his office? No, they would have called her. And the police would have responded immediately. He wouldn't be anywhere else that wasn't a public space, and if West took him in public, there would be a police response too. And the police would call her as well.

She pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped. Something was wrong. This didn't feel right.

Turk looked at her questioningly and whined. "I know, boy," Faith said. "I just… something's up."

Her phone rang. The Boss.

She answered, and the Boss said, "Faith, is everything okay?"

Her eyes widened. Not only did he never use her first name, he never sounded like this. Gone was the gruff, authoritative growl. In its place was genuine concern, almost fear.

"No, actually," she said. "I got a tip that West had escaped jail and was going to kill my boyfriend. You wouldn't happen to know about that, would you?"

He paused. When he spoke again, his concern had deepened. "Prince shot out of here like a bullet from a gun fifteen minutes ago. He won't answer his phone. You wouldn't know about that, would you?"

A chill ran through her. She had gotten the first text from West fifteen minutes ago.

"Faith? Bold, is Prince with you?"

"No," she said. "No, he's not."

"Damn it. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," Faith said. "He's trying to trick us somehow. He… did Michael mention where he was going?"

"No. He just said, ‘I'll kill that motherfucker if he touches her.' I was about to send SWAT units to his house, but… I hate to get one of my own agents in trouble like that."

Faith considered a moment. He was sending Michael to his own home and sending Faith to the other side of the Philadelphia Metropolitan Area. Why would he do that? To split them up, obviously, but why? For what? To kill David?

Maybe that was it. Maybe David was safe at his office, and West wanted Faith and Michael far away so he could ambush David when he got home.

"Hold on," she said. "Let me make a call."

She hung up, but before she could dial David's office, the number came up on her phone. She answered, and a terrified receptionist said, "Faith? Is everything okay? David ran out of here fifteen minutes ago and sped off like… well, like he thought you were dead."

Faith's eyes widened. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No, but he was repeating some numbers."

"What numbers?"

"Um… 443 something. I think… 443 Elway?"

And Faith knew.

443 Elwood Street. Michael's home.

Ellie's home.

West was sending Faith away and luring the two men she loved most in this world to the home of the woman who had divorced him. He was going to kill three birds with one stone, and in the process, he was going to keep his promise to Faith and break her by taking away the two most important people in her life.

"Faith? Is everything okay?"

"Call the police," she said. "Tell them everything you told me."

"What? What's going—"

She hung up and called the Boss back. "Boss, send those SWAT units. I'm heading there now. West has something planned. God, if I know what, but we have less than ten minutes to stop it."

"God damn it. All right. Is Turk with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Be safe, Bold."

"I will."

She hung up and spun around, tires screeching. She was four minutes from Michael's house. If Michael left at the same time as West texted her, he would reach the home two minutes before her.

She needed to make it faster.

She pushed the accelerator to the floor and prayed harder than she ever had in her life.

God please. Please let me get there in time.

***

David pulled up in front of the house and ran up the steps. The door was locked. Of course it was. He slammed on the door and shouted, "West! West! God damn it, West! I'm here! Open the fucking door!"

No answer. "Fuck!"

He stepped away and put his hands on the top of his head, trying to quell his panic. He considered calling West, but what if Faith was already dying? What if she was bleeding out?

Damn it, he wished to God he was stronger. He was in shape, but he never thought he'd have to do something like this. How could he get inside?

Find a way, damn it. That's the woman you love in there.

He squared himself to the door, and with a shout, he lifted his leg and kicked hard. The door splintered inward far more easily than he expected, and he stumbled and nearly fell.

Then he saw her. She was lying on the floor in the kitchen. "Faith!" he screamed, rushing to her. "Faith! I'm…"

It wasn't Faith. The blonde woman lying on the floor was around Faith's age. She had a small cut on her forehead, probably from hitting the ground, but she wasn't dead. Her chest rose and fell steadily, and when David pressed two fingers to her neck, her pulse was strong.

But she wasn't Faith. What the hell was going on? Where was—

"Hey! Get away from my wife, you asshole!"

David jumped to his feet and spun around. He stared at a man around his height but a good thirty pounds heavier, a great deal of that weight muscle.

The muscle concerned David far less than the gun pointed at his chest.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man shouted. "Another goddamned copycat?"

David lifted his hands, and the man looked down at the unconscious woman. "Ellie? Oh God, no."

He lifted his eyes to David and shouted, "You fuck! I'm going to kill you!"

David's eyes widened. He watched in horror as the man's fingers tightened around the trigger.

***

Michael nearly rolled the massive SUV as he brought it to a stop in front of his house. His driver's side tires jumped the curb, and he heard pops as the tires ripped off the bead.

Whatever. He could replace those. He couldn't replace Ellie.

A strange car was parked in his driveway, and his front door had been kicked open. Any doubts he had about West's threat vanished when he saw that.

He rushed into the house, gun drawn. He saw the man from the front door, kneeling in the kitchen.

That wasn't West, though. Who the hell was that?

Whoever he was, he was kneeling over Ellie's supine body.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Get away from my wife, you asshole!"

The man jumped to his feet and turned to Michael, wide-eyed.

So it wasn't West after all. Just some piece of shit pretending to be West to fuck with him.

"Who the fuck are you? Another goddamned copycat?"

The man didn't answer. He lifted his hands, pale as a sheet, but said nothing.

Michael looked down at Ellie. Her eyes were closed. She wasn't moving. "Ellie?"

Then he saw the blood on her head. "Oh God, no."

His heart fell to the floor, then bounced up to his throat. The world swam around him, then centered on the man standing above his dead wife. The murderer who had taken away the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Red filtered over his vision. His eardrums pulsed with rage. "You fuck!" he shouted. "I'm going to kill you!"

He aimed for the center of that fucking prick's forehead and squeezed the trigger.

***

Faith saw David's car in the driveway of Michael's house. He saw Michael's car on the curb in front of the house, its driver's side tires blown. There was no sign of another vehicle. How had West gotten here? Had he gotten here?

She brought the car to a stop and rushed out. Turk bounded after her and followed her to the house. As she ran toward the caved-in door, she heard Michael's voice. "You fuck! I'm going to kill you!"

She ran into the house just in time to see Michael's fingers tighten around the trigger. She looked at his target and saw.

"David!"

David's eyes snapped toward her. Michael spun toward Faith with a snarl.

"Faith!" David shouted. "Don't shoot her!"

He rushed Michael, but Turk barked, and both men froze and looked at him. Faith looked into the kitchen and saw Ellie sitting up slowly.

"Ellie?"

Michael dropped his gun and ran to her side. David looked at them with confusion and looked at Faith. "What's going on?"

Faith's phone buzzed. An unknown number.

She read the text, and everything became clear.

I warned you I would break you, Faith. David's not at the cabin. He's at Michael's house. Michael just killed him for murdering Ellie. But she'll be all right. She'll wake up in a few minutes to see that the man she left me for is a killer too. And he'll spend the next ten years in prison. Who knows? Maybe I'll see him around.

It was so easy. You all think you're so smart. But you're not. You're no less foolish than any of the other sheep I've butchered.

I told you, Faith. I told you I would break you. You have your dog, I suppose. Cry on his shoulder as you bury your boyfriend and watch your partner led away in handcuffs. You bruised my heel, but I have bruised your head.

I win.

"Faith?"

She chuckled and looked up at David. "David, this is Michael, my partner, and his wife, Ellie. Michael, Ellie, my boyfriend David. David, would you mind helping Michael fix his door? I have an errand to run, then I'm buying everyone dinner."

"What?" Ellie said. "What's going on?"

Michael's eyes narrowed a moment. He looked at Faith. "Is it over?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "It's over."

Michael broke into a smile. "Then go do what you have to do." He kissed Ellie's forehead. "Let's take care of your bump, baby. Frank tried to do something, but Faith took care of it. Nothing to worry about anymore."

"Oh… Are you all right? Who's he?"

"My name's David," David said. "I'm Faith's very confused boyfriend."

"I'll explain what I know," Michael said. "The short version is that Faith just beat the Copycat Killer. Also, sorry for almost shooting you."

"Well…" David said. "You didn't, so I guess that's okay."

"Shoot you?" Ellie said. "What?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh! Oh, that letter from Frank! He knocked me out, and then… was he trying to trick you guys into killing each other?"

"Something like that," Faith said. "But don't worry. This was his last chance. And he blew it."

"So it's over?"

She smiled grimly. "Not quite. There's one more thing I have to do."