Page 5 of So Twisted

He caught himself and stiffened. “Shit, Faith. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” she said curtly. “Just drop it.”

They rode the elevator in awkward silence. Faith’s cheeks flamed, and she hated that he could see her embarrassment. There was so much she hated these days. The only part of her life that was completely good right now was Turk. The FBI had allowed him to continue working past the mandatory retirement age, and he was still her assigned K9 unit.

She comforted herself with the fact that she would at least get to work with him soon. Something to take her mind off of all the crap.

She kept that in mind as the elevator opened, and they stepped out and headed toward the Boss’s office.

CHAPTER TWO

Special Agent-in-Charge Grant Monroe, known semi-affectionately as the Boss to his subordinates at the Philadelphia Field Office, was rarely in a good mood. His normal demeanor reminded Faith of the more surly of her drill instructors from the Marine Corps.

He was in a bad mood today. He was in a bad mood most days he needed to see Faith, at least recently. Faith was a bit of a celebrity in Philadelphia due to her high-profile connection to Franklin West, the most notorious serial killer in the city's history. With West on trial and that trial being treated as the news story of the century, Faith was a media darling, which in the eyes of the Bureau meant she was a liability. She had barely managed to keep her job as a field agent by moving to Allentown, a smaller city about an hour or two north of Philly, depending on traffic, and by taking jobs that moved her far away from the city of brotherly love.

“Where’s Turk?” he barked.

Faith sighed. She should just have Turk’s whereabouts printed on a t-shirt whenever he wasn’t with her. “He’s at the animal hospital. Today is his semiannual checkup.”

The Boss scowled. “When will it be over?”

“It’s an all-day battery of tests. David’s usually pretty quick with them, but it’ll still be three hours probably.”

The Boss sighed. “We’ll have to reschedule. You two are on a flight in two and a half hours.”

“Where to this time, Boss?” Michael asked.

“Omaha.”

“Nebraska. Fun.”

The Boss glared at Michael, but apparently couldn’t determine exactly what joke Michael was trying to play at hisexpense. “Yes. We were personally requested by the Council Bluffs Animal Rescue Sanctuary.”

Michael lifted an eyebrow. “Iowa. Even more fun.”

"We are all truly impressed by your knowledge of geography, Prince," the Boss said. "Now, let's talk about the murder you two will be investigating."

“Hold on,” Faith interrupted. “We were requested by an animal sanctuary? People can do that?”

The Boss rubbed his temples. “Local law enforcement agreed to ask for our second opinion at the sanctuary’s urging. Would you like to know exactly which forms were filed, or can I tell you what we know about the murder?”

“Go ahead, Boss.”

The Boss reached into his desk and dropped a folder on the counter. “Marcus Reeves, forty-seven. Found in the morning by the opening janitorial crew. Looked like that.”

Faith’s stomach was nearly ironclad after over a decade of investigating brutal crime scenes, so she wasn’t put off by the image, but she could imagine that the poor janitors weren’t so mellow about it. “Looks like his throat was torn out.”

“Looks like it. Janitor almost got her throat torn out too. Turns out a panther was on the loose.”

Michael frowned. “And… that’s not the cause of death?”

“Local PD says yes. Animal sanctuary says no. They forced the issue, and the body was taken to the coroner. Local PD agreed to call us.”

“Any idea what it could have been if it wasn’t a panther?”

“Well, they wanted to call us, so I’m guessing a person.”

Faith resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Did they give a reason?”

---