Page 38 of So Bleak

Michael’s voice cut through the darkness. Faith smiled slightly as she remembered the woman. She couldn’t quite remember her name, but she did remember seeing the fire department lift her from the well, somewhat the worse for wear but alive.

“I remember that. That was our first case after I got out of the hospital.”

“Yeah. You and Turk had to fight a religious nut who was burying ‘promiscuous women’ in abandoned wells.”

“Yeah, I remember him. The Demon of Morgan County.”

“Whatever,” Michael flipped his hand and sat next to her with his own meal. “I don’t pay attention to the names the media gives these people. You remember the woman we rescued from that puppy farm?”

“Yes, I do. I think she was named Lila too.”

“Yeah, something like that. Lila or Lisa. Let’s see, there was the other woman, the Marine we rescued from that crazy medic up in Washington.”

Faith shivered. “Yeah, that was when Turk got hurt.”

Turk looked up at the sound of his name, and Faith smiled. “But you’re right as rain now, aren’t you?”

“So are they,” Michael said. “I don’t always remember their names, but I remember their faces. I remember the gratitude. The relief. The joy. It’s hard to remember that when you’re in the middle of things and you’re chasing a psycho whose working his problems out by hurting people instead of going to therapy, but there’s a lot of people who make it because of the work we do. And those are only the people we see. Imagine how many more would have died if we hadn’t caught the Demon and put him in the psych ward? If Kenneth Langeveldt was still paralyzing fake families in Washington D.C.? Or that guy in Arizona who was using pheromones to trick lapdogs into eating people alive?”

Faith shivered again. “Don’t remind me of that asshole. Those are some of the worst scenes I’ve ever seen.”

“But fewer than there would be otherwise. I won’t pretend it’s always easy, but when I’m having a bad day, and I can’t get the images of death out of my mind, I fill them with images of the life that exists because I’m not afraid to face death. It helps.”

Faith smiled at him. “Why Michael Prince, who knew what a poet you were?”

He shrugged. “Maybe that’s what I’ll do when I retire.”

He reached for the remote and switched the TV on. Faith took a bite of her TV dinner. This one was pretending to be Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and peas. To be fair, she had no idea what Salisbury steak was, so maybe it was perfectly normal for steak to have the texture of wet cardboard.

She grinned and took another bite. Call her crazy, but there was nothing more comforting in life than a cheap TV dinner eaten on a couch with her two best friends.

The TV program returned from commercial and Faith’s grin faded when she saw the headline. WEST MAKES FIRST STATEMENT SINCE ARREST!

Michael looked at Faith. “Maybe I’ll change the channel.”

“No. I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Faith, I don’t know if—”

“Just leave it on.”

The anchor, a man with the fake hair and plastic smile of a politician, said, “The nation is abuzz today with the revelation that convicted serial killer Franklin West has released his first statement since being arrested just over four months ago. West, the prolific murderer known as the Copycat Donkey Killer—”

“They talk about him like he’s a damned celebrity,” Michael groused. “Like he’s a prophet.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, Faith thought. That, to some people, he is.

“What you are about to hear is a transcript of that statement read by a court stenographer who captured the statement at West’s pretrial hearing this morning.”

“That was this morning?” Michael asked.

“I guess so.”

“Aren’t they supposed to notify you?”

Faith shook her head. “I don’t know.”

A flat, slightly nasal male voice recited the statement. “The line between sanity and insanity is thin indeed. What separates me from a perfectly ordinary psychologist and counselor is as ephemeral as a puff of smoke or a gust of wind. People live their lives believing they are good, they are moral, they are sane; but put the right pressure in the right place, and that façade crumbles.

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