Page 8 of So Smitten

A second thought echoed that one, a vaguely taunting thought, as though her own mind were reveling in the destruction of her sense of safety. No, you don’t have cancer. You have a target on your forehead.

“No.,” Dawson said. “We would also place video and audio recording devices around your house and station two agents to monitor your home and your activities.”

“Does surveillance include protection? Like bodyguards?”

Dawson and Edgely shared another look, and if Gina had to see that look again, she would tear her own eyes out. “No, ma’am,” Dawson said, “we would respond immediately if the killer was sighted, but we wouldn’t provide personal protection.”

“So I’m only safe as long as I remain in my own home where your agents can see me?”

Dawson and Edgely started to turn toward each other, and Gina couldn’t hold back her anger. “Just answer the damned question!”

Dawson sighed. “To the best of our knowledge, the killer only targets people when they’re alone. If you make sure that you leave your house only in daylight and in the company of others, you should be safe.”

There it was again. “To the best of our knowledge.” “You should be safe.”

Gina folded her arms across her chest again. She looked around at her home, so small and quaint and quiet and safe. This was a safe neighborhood, dammit. How could she suddenly be targeted by a murderer?

“Can I have some time to think about it?” she asked.

“We can give you until nine o’clock this evening,” Dawson said, “I’m afraid that’s the best we can do. We have other people to visit.”

Gina sighed and turned toward the kitchen. Her freshly peeled and sliced potatoes were slowly browning from the exposure to the air.

“I’ll leave my card on the table,” Dawson said. “If you decide to accept our offer, please let me know.”

The two agents left her then, standing with her arms crossed and her fingers pressed to her lips. Gina tried to remember Faith, and couldn’t come up with anything other than braces, blue eyes and pigtails. The two of them were friendly, but they weren’t exactly friends.

And yet, that was enough to put her in the crosshairs of a psycho.

CHAPTER THREE

Faith left the shower, a towel wrapped around her waist. She walked into the living room, and David's eyes widened. He looked her up and down appreciatively and said, "Wow. Getting back with you was a good idea."

Faith giggled and said, “Why do you say that?”

She turned and let the towel fall as she did. David caught her halfway to the kitchen and decided to show his answer rather than speak it.

After, they sat together on the couch, Faith’s head on his chest, his arm around her shoulders. The past three weeks had pretty much been endless sex and cuddling, which made it feel exactly like what it was intended to be: a fresh start for the two of them.

And it had been wonderful right up until the week before when Faith had learned of Decker’s murder and West’s presumed decision to target everyone she had ever mentioned during their sessions. Now, Faith worried that once more, David was in danger.

She hadn’t told him yet. The last time she had asked him to leave town, he had done so, but the stress of leaving his patients for several weeks had prompted their earlier separation.

But it was selfish not to tell him. She couldn’t allow him to remain in danger. The past several nights she had barely slept for fear that she would wake to a phone call from the Bureau telling her that David had been found cut apart just like all of West’s victims.

She pushed herself to an upright position. David looked questioningly at her, and when he saw her expression, she noticed tension come to his face. It hurt to see because she knew it meant he was going to resist what she had to say.

“I have to tell you something,” she said.

“All right,” he replied cautiously.

She took a deep breath and said, “West killed someone else.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” David replied. “Someone you knew?”

“Someone I used to know,” she said. “Not for a long time, but I did know him.”

“I see,” he said noncommittally. “I’m sorry.”

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