Page 57 of So Bleak

She looked out the window and her shoulders tensed until a dagger of pain lanced down her neck. It was twilight now. A few more minutes, and it would be full-on night. Their killer was almost certainly out there taking another victim. Hell, he might already have taken that victim and the Philadelphia Police were trying to decide when they could tell her without the news descending on them. Maybe the news had already descended on the scene, and PD was busy trying to explain why they hadn’t already told her. Maybe.

She sighed and stood abruptly. “I’m going to make some coffee.”

“Now? You can’t wait until after you look through their accounts?”

“It’s going to be hours until I finish,” Faith said. “Hours before you do too. My mind’s already starting to wander, so I need caffeine if I’m going to stay effective.”

“All right. Well, since you’re up, make some for me too.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I thought I’d make the world’s smallest pot of coffee.”

“We’re both frustrated, Faith,” Michael reminded her. “Don’t take it out on me.”

She bit back an angry retort and headed to the kitchen. This was stupid. They had spent the whole case scouring for leads, and each time they had one that seemed solid, it turned out to be useless.

To be fair, this one wasn’t useless. Just elusive. It wouldn’t be useless until they exhausted every possibility and determined there was no one who was at each victim’s house each time.

Or until they got a call for another body.

Faith started the coffee and stared at the liquid as it slowly dripped through the filter. The first few drops were light, nearly clear, but as the percolator got up to speed, they darkened until they became a steady stream of rich brown.

***

Faith bit back her tears and swiped a fist angrily across her eyes. West had his back turned to her as he made a fresh pot of coffee for both of them. He wore a brown turtleneck today, perhaps not quite as dark as coffee but dark enough to clash rather unpleasantly with his khaki pants. She found that a little odd. He was usually very well-dressed, probably the most well-dressed person she’d ever known.

Well, everyone has a bad day. She just had a few more than most.

West took the pot off of the percolator and poured two cups. He set the pot back and carefully opened two packets of hazelnut flavored creamer which he emptied into one of the cups. He stirred the creamer into the coffee with his usual fastidiousness then discarded it and the two empty creamer packets into the nearby wastebasket. He grinned sheepishly at Faith and said, “I can’t get used to the taste of it black. I tried, I promise. It seems I’m not up to the task.”

Faith managed a smile, but it didn’t last long.

West sighed and set her cup in front of her before sitting with his. “I don’t mean to be cruel, Faith. I really don’t. I have been stern, but I don’t mean to hurt you. It’s just important that you understand the difference between grief and shame. If we are to help you come to terms with your shame, we can’t hide from it.”

“Is that what I have to do? Come to terms with my shame?”

“Of course. The longer you leave it in the back of your mind, the more it will fester. Leave it long enough, and it will consume you until there’s nothing left but darkness. Believe me, Faith, I understand the danger of leaving something rotten to fester.”

She met his eyes and saw a blackness in them she’d never seen before. She frowned slightly, and West lifted his cup to his lips. He closed his eyes to savor the brew, and when he opened them, the blackness was gone.

He smiled compassionately at Faith and said, “We all have demons, Faith. But we don’t fight them by pretending they don’t exist. Now, let’s talk about how you really feel.”

Faith was silent for a long while before replying. She lifted her coffee cup, and though the liquid was still scalding, she drank, pushing through the burn in her throat.

Finally, she said, “I can still feel his knife.”

***

“Faith? You okay in there?”

Faith inhaled sharply and blinked the memory away. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just waiting for the coffee to finish.”

“Christ, you are tired. Normally I’m the one kneeling at the altar of caffeine.”

“Well, it’s been a long case,” she said. “I’m just about ready for it to be over.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m ready to be done with all this crap myself. How much longer ‘til the coffee’s done?’

She looked at the pot to see it full. She didn’t think she had daydreamed for that long. “It’s done. You want cream?”

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