Page 8 of So Bleak

“Oh, whatever.”

"So, how's Ellie doing?"

He grinned. “Perfect as always. She made me a chocolate cake in the shape of a badge for our anniversary.”

“Does she know that FBI agents don’t wear badges?”

“You see, that’s the difference between you and me. I thought the cake was adorable, and I appreciated the thought. You have to go right to picking everything apart.”

“Picking things apart is what I get paid to do. For the record, before you get all pissy, I think it’s adorable how cute you two are.”

“It is adorable. We’re like the… the… who’s the couple who lives next door to Lucy and Desi Arnaz?”

She looked at him for a moment. “Do I look like I watch I Love Lucy?”

“No, I guess not. You probably wouldn’t like it. No blood.”

“Oh yeah, that’s why I became an agent,” she quipped. “I just love blood.”

“Well, I know it’s not the vacation days. Did you know the Bureau’s trying to reduce paid time off from three weeks to sixteen days annually?”

“The horror.”

“One more reason to retire, I guess.”

She rolled her eyes. "You keep saying you're going to retire, but I think you just like to pretend you have options other than the Bureau. You're like the boyfriend who keeps threatening to leave, but he never does because he knows he can't do better."

“The point of retiring is to do nothing, not to do better. But yeah, I guess you’re right. In any case, with West locked up, Ellie’s sleeping at night, so she’s not pressuring me to move us somewhere far away anymore.”

Michael's wife, Ellie, happened to also be Franklin West's ex-wife. Needless to say, she hadn't taken it well when her abusive ex-husband was revealed to also be among the most prolific and most brutal serial killers in American history. She was more relieved than anyone when he was finally brought to justice.

“That’s good,” Faith replied. “I’m glad she’s healing.”

“Yeah, me too. I won’t lie, though; I was kind of hoping I'd get ten minutes alone with West."

“Isn’t the phrase five minutes alone?”

“I’m an old man now. I’d need a couple of breaks to catch my breath.”

She rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder playfully. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Why not? I love being old. I’m pretty sure I was born to be an old man.”

“You might be right there.”

“So how are you holding up?” he asked. “Are you following the case?”

She sighed. “Trying not to.”

“I get it. The last thing you need after years trying to shake that monkey off your back is for some dumbass academic to act like he’s the same as the Night Stalker.”

“Right? How do you even make that comparison?”

"You get told by a bunch of stuffed shirts that your shit smells like roses, so you start thinking that every thought that pops into your head is Gospel. From there, you just cherry-pick your facts so it fits whatever preconceived bullshit you've decided to pronounce today."

She smiled wryly. “I take it you saw the Crime talk broadcast this morning.”

“Yep. My mistake. I had the TV on for the weather, and I left it on when I saw West's face. I thought it was going to be an update on the jury selection, but nope, it was Tyler Hudson entertaining some dumb shit professor who thinks that every murderer is a sexual deviant."

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