Page 63 of So Silent

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.”

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