Page 60 of So Silent

In a small concrete room nearly three thousand miles away, the man most widely known as Franklin West stared through a four-inch by thirteen-inch hole nine feet above his head and watched a bird fly in front of the sun. How odd that such a sight could infuse him with such joy. Up until recently, he had believed he could endure this sort of confinement. Now, he realized that all that awaited him was boredom.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew that there was a chance things could end this way. He even knew that it might not be Bold or another hyper-intelligent federal agent who caught him but instead some greenhorn beat cops who happened to be at the right place at the right time. You didn’t decide to make a career out of killing people and delude yourself into thinking you could get away with it your whole life.

But he didn't think that losing would hurt this bad. As nearly as he could remember, he was forty-three years old. That meant that he had at least half his life left to live unless he got cancer or heart disease. That was a long time to live, staring through a crack in the wall.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Bold's face flashed across his mind, and hate wormed its way to the surface of his apathy.

He would still get her. He still had his failsafe. One last shot in the dark, and this time, Faith would be blinded by the light and wouldn’t see the shadows reaching to take her.

He would still break her, and when he left this hole for an even deeper hole and an even smaller window in an even more remote prison, he would carry with him the comfort of knowing that just like Jethro Trammell, the Donkey Killer he admired above all others, he had left Faith Bold with a scar she would carry for the rest of her life.

The horn sounded, and West stood and walked to the far wall. He placed his hands above his head and leaned forward, legs spread, waiting for the guards to search him and his cell before leading him to the walled enclosure where he would receive his hour of exercise.

He focused on the grief he would soon bring to his archenemy and smiled.

I will break you, Faith Bold.

***

Dr. David Friedman smiled as he looked at the text from Faith. He wondered how she would react if she knew that he sometimes read her texts a dozen times throughout the day and just smiled at them as he did now. She’d probably make some awkward wisecrack about how he was a dork who loved her too much and needed to find a hobby.

She didn’t know how to see herself as someone worthy of the love he felt for her. But that was all right. That humility was one of the many things he loved about her. And as for her worth? He would remind her of that every day. She would know her worth even if she never believed it.

His smile widened as he recalled their meeting the night before. The first night after a case was always the best, in more ways than one. By the time Faith was finished with David, he was sore and exhausted and bruised, but he was grinning like a teenager. He was enough of a man to admit that one of the other things he loved about Faith was that she was hot as hell and knew exactly how to use all of her assets to great effect in bed.

His phone alarm went off, and he sighed and put his phone in his pocket. He loved all of his patients and tried very hard to love all of their owners, but Adelie was just such a pain. What was it this time? Blossom sneezed once?

Well, that was the job, and she was paying for the visits, so he might as well put on a smile and deal with it. His phone buzzed again just before he walked out of the door, and he pulled it out of his pocket and smiled when he saw it was from Faith.

He opened it, expecting another flirty message like the earlier one.

When he read the actual text, his smile vanished.

David, please come help. West has me. He says he’ll kill me if you don’t come. He already hurt Turk. I think he means it this time.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. It was a prank or some stupid joke. Someone had gotten Faith’s phone at the Field Office and was playing a cruel trick on—

His phone buzzed again. An unknown number. When he opened the text, he cried out and nearly dropped his phone.

“Oh God,” he whispered. “Oh God, no.”

The text contained an image of Faith. She had been beaten unconscious. Her right eye was swollen, and the left side of her jaw was bruised. Blood had soaked one corner of the gag tied around her mouth.

The image was captioned Better hurry followed by an address.

The door opened, and his receptionist said, “Dr. Friedman? Miss Fontaine is…”

“Cancel my appointments,” he said, rushing out of the room. “I’m taking the rest of the day.”

He rushed from the office, ignoring the cries of surprise and concern. He considered calling the police, but what if West killed Faith when he heard the sirens.

He had to go. He had to save her. Maybe West just wanted to kill him instead, but that was okay.

Just not Faith. Please God, not Faith.

***

Ellie West put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and started the load. Then she heaved a satisfied sigh and—

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