Page 57 of So Smitten

"Yep," he said, "sixteen thousand every year. It's insane. All of those dogs killed just so people can see blood. Well, I couldn't stop all of them, but I could stop some of them. I thought that maybe if people were made aware of the issue ,it might inspire them to put an end to it. I think I was just being naïve, to be honest. People don't seem to care about anything that isn't directly affecting them."

“I’ve found that to be the case,” Faith replied. She thought of David, who insisted that West was no more of a threat to him than he was to anyone else and willfully ignored all of Faith’s protests to the contrary. She thought of Ellie, who similarly refused to leave, stubbornly holding on to the illusion of self-determination by defying a threat that she, of all people, should know was very real.

She thought of herself, who several times over the past two years had placed Turk, Michael, Gordon, the Boss and the Bureau in general at risk because of her impatience with the West case. People were born with blinders, she often thought. It was hard to remove those blinders, and when they did, it was just as hard to keep them off.

"So, do you know what happens next with me?" Eric asked.

“You’ll be charged with murder,” she said, “three counts felony murder and one count attempted murder. In addition, three counts trespassing, two breaking and entering, resisting arrest, assault on a peace officer, and because of the method of death, you’ll get enhancements on the murders.”

“Ouch,” he said, “so I’m in prison for life then.”

“Most likely,” Faith said. “You might get some consideration for the fact that your victims were violent criminals and for the fact that your dog was killed and that prompted you down this path, but more likely than not, you’ll end up in jail for the rest of your life. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied. “I knew this was coming. I knew it the moment I went after Harris. I made my peace with it.”

Faith once more didn’t know what to say. Her thoughts were at war with each other. The agent in her insisted that there was no excuse for what he had done. Murder was murder was killing someone illegally. It didn’t matter what the victims had done. There were laws and processes to follow, and when you didn’t follow them, bad things happened.

The human in her was very well acquainted with her own loose attitude concerning laws and processes in the past and understood precisely how someone could be willing to throw away everything for a chance at justice. There but for the grace of God go I, she thought.

“You’ll end up in medium security at first,” she said, “minimum after a few years of good behavior. You’ll get your own room and maybe even a tv if you make nice with the right CO’s. It might help to think of it as early retirement to an assisted living community.”

That sounded weak to her own ears, but Eric smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s how I’ll look at it. I think you might be a little optimistic about the timeline, though. I didn’t just shoot people. I shocked them to death with a collar. Unless every single one of the jurors is an avid dog lover and the judge owns a dog himself, I’ll probably spend a while in max before I get an easier ride. But that’s okay too. Even max has libraries. I’ve always been a reader. I can make it work.”

For the third time in their conversation, Faith didn’t know what to say. Eric looked at Turk, who sat next to Faith, sympathy in his brown eyes.

“You take care of your mommy, you hear?” he said. “She loves you very much.”

A lump formed in Faith’s throat. She stood and broke about a half dozen protocols when she shook Eric’s hand—as much as the shackles around his wrists would allow—and said, “Good luck, Eric. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”

“I’ve already found it,” he replied.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

“How’s Gaucho doing?” Michael asked when Garvey returned to the agents with a pitcher of beer.

Garvey had offered to treat them to drinks before they returned to Philadelphia. The earlier tension between them was forgotten now that the case was solved and Garvey didn’t risk losing her traction against the Georgia Syndicate.

“Gaucho is doing beautifully,” Garvey replied. “Roman and the others might have what they think of as honor among thieves, but Gaucho here has the decency to admit that it’s all about him. He’s been singing like Pavarotti. I can’t say his voice is as pretty, but he’s telling me everything I need to hear, so I’ll buy the record when it comes out.”

“He’s really throwing everyone under the bus, huh?” Michael asked, a touch of contempt in his voice.

Faith lifted an eyebrow. “And that upsets you?”

“Oh, not at all,” Michael said, “Put me on the waiting list for that album too. I just enjoy thinking about what a little coward he turned out to be. It makes it easier for me to get over what I saw in that warehouse. Speaking of which, what happened to the dogs?”

Garvey looked at Faith. Michael’s smile faded. “Gone, huh?”

“Not all of them,” Garvey said. “It looks like about half of them survived the firefight. Gaucho was responsible for killing them, but he ended up fleeing before the job was done. The ones that survived, though… well, they’re not going back home.”

Faith and Michael nodded soberly. What those dogs had been put through had warped and hurt them to the point where they could no longer be safely returned to their owners. “What’s going to happen to them?” Faith asked.

“Ciccolo recommended a trainer he knows,” Garvey replied. “There’s a guy on the West Coast who takes in dogs that have been psychologically damaged and gives them a place to live out their days that’s safe for them and safe for people. They’ll be shipped there. I looked at some pictures. It’s pretty nice. He’s got sixty acres in the Los Angeles Mountains. They’ll get to run around and play and forget all about the assholes who wanted them to fight and kill each other.”

“That’s good,” Faith said, “that’s a lot better than it could have been.”

“Yeah,” Garvey agreed. “If we hadn’t found a place for them, they would have all been euthanized. Makes me wonder if we’re really that much better than the Syndicate is.”

“We are,” Michael said firmly. “It’s not even close.”

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