Page 3 of So Twisted

They fell silent until they left the building. Hoagie Hub was across the street, very wisely choosing to open near a place where they were guaranteed a steady stream of very hungry law enforcement agents and analysts who were willing to spend twenty percent more to have their sandwich within walking distance of their desks. But hey, Faith was one of them. Who was she to judge?

Besides, today’s lunch had a purpose. That was why when they entered, Faith immediately said, “It’s on me.”

To Chavez's credit, she was a good enough agent to realize that Faith's out-of-the-blue offer of lunch came with an ulterior motive. Her eyes narrowed, and the pallor in her skin disappeared. She was in work mode now, and it didn't matter that Faith intimidated the hell out of her.

Faith grudgingly admired that even as she realized that Chavez was likely to be guarded. Faith needed her not to be guarded so she could get the information she wanted.

She’d have to be patient. She’d have to work her way into Chavez’s trust. She might even have to take her out for lunch regularly in order to soften her up enough to discuss the Messenger, the latest in a series of psychopathic serial killers who had developed an obsession with Faith.

Faith was not good at being patient.

So, once they got their sandwiches, she sighed and said, “Okay, Chavez. You figured it out already, I’m sure, but this isn’t just a social call.”

“Really?” Chavez replied drily. “You ask me to lunch for the first time in the two years we’ve worked in the same office, and it’s not just because you want some girl bonding time?”

Wow. Work-mode Chavez wasveryunintimidated. Faith folded her hands on the table and said, “I need to know what’s going on with this case, Chavez. This person is trying to kill me.”

“We don’t think so,” Chavez countered. “We think he’s trying to get your attention.”

“Well, he’s got it. He brutally killed a sweet old woman who liked feeding Turk treats. Then he posed her body in front of my doorway. So yeah, he’s got my attention.”

“And you need to take itoffof him,” Chavez said. “Seriously. The more attention you show, the more he’s going to escalate.”

“I don’t think so,” Faith argued. “I think he’s upset because I’mnotpaying attention. He’s trying to get my attention, and I’m not giving it to him. He’s going to keep escalating until he gets what he wants.”

“So what? Once you start looking into the case, he’ll stop?”

Faith opened her mouth, then closed it.

“Exactly.” Chavez sighed. “I’m not going to pretend that I understand what you’re going through. I sympathize with you. I can imagine that it’s difficult to be in your situation. I won’t claim to know how difficult. But I also know that you’re probably the best agent in the Bureau right now. So as a less experienced agent to a more experienced agent: if our positions were reversed, what would you tell me?”

Faith frowned and looked over Chavez’s shoulder. She recognized a massive black SUV pulling into the parking lot. The SUV belonged to her partner, Special Agent Michael Prince.

Michael was here. On his day off. That meant it wasn’t his day off anymore, which meant she wasn’t going to be in Philadelphia for much longer.

Which meant there was no point in lying to Chavez. “I would tell you that you’re not in the right frame of mind to be actively involved in this case. I would encourage you to let the agents assigned to the case handle it.”

“Okay, then.” Chavez smiled. Faith hated the pity in that smile. “If it makes you feel better, the killer’s gone quiet. There was a gap of a week in between the first two victims. It’s been a month since then, and there’s no more ‘messages.’”

“Don’t call them that,” Faith snapped. “They’re not messages.”

“Okay,” Chavez said. She paled a little as some of her fear of Faith returned. “Victims. No more victims. Local PD is reporting that the neighborhood watch programs are stepping up their vigilance, and they have more cops out on beat now, so maybethe guy’s in hiding. Or maybe he gave up because you weren’t giving him what he wanted.”

“Yeah,” Faith agreed. “Maybe. Do me a favor. Give my sub to Desrouleaux.”

She stood and stalked out of the shop, leaving a shocked Chavez behind at the table. She made it three steps before sighing and returning to the sub shop. “Chavez?”

The younger agent cast her a wary glance.

“I’m sorry. I’m… obviously not in the right frame of mind to discuss this case. You’re right. I need to let you and Desrouleaux handle it. It’s just upsetting to leave one serial killer behind and have another one on my ass right after him.”

Chavez smiled sympathetically. “I get it. I mean, Idon’t, but I do.” She reddened. “What I’m trying to say is—”

She was saved from further embarrassment when Faith’s phone buzzed. It was Michael. “Hey, Faith, where are you?”

“Hey. I was grabbing lunch with Chavez.”

“Really? Awesome. Look at you being social. Damn it, I feel bad now.”

---