Page 29 of So Lethal

“Do you think they had something to do with this?”

“No,” Faith replied. She got to her feet to head off further curiosity. “Thank you for talking to us, Beth. If you think of anything else, please give us a call.”

She pulled a card out and handed it to Beth. Then, she and her two companions left her and returned to their car. As they approached the parking garage, Faith saw the medical examiner's van pull onto the street and accelerate away, carrying the body of Sarah Martinez. She wondered what Sarah felt in her last moments. Was she relieved to have been freed from a life she despised, or did she realize in that moment how precious life was, even a life without sound?

Either way, Faith would see to it that she received justice.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lillian Martin watched David Friedman pull out of his driveway and accelerate down the street. She waited until his car turned out of the residential neighborhood, then got out of her car and approached the house.

She wasn’t afraid of being seen. She’d watched this neighborhood for the past five weeks. She knew that everyone on this street left for work by nine in the morning. It was now nine-thirty. She also knew that David spent every Saturday golfing when Faith was away. He’d be gone until at least four in the afternoon.

She wouldn’t need that much time. She just needed to send a little message.

Faith had her residences locked down tighter than San Quentin, but Faith didn’t live by herself anymore, and apparently she hadn’t been able to convince the good doctor to turn his home into a fortress. The locks had been replaced with sophisticated mechanisms that couldn’t easily be defeated, and cameras covered every square inch of the property, but the panic alarm that had alerted the Philadelphia Police to West’s intrusion into Faith’s old apartment hadn’t made its way here. Lillian was certain that Faith reviewed the home’s security footage religiously, but she was betting the good Dr. David didn’t.

And Faith was gone now. This was Lillian’s chance. She walked to the home, smiled, and flipped off the cameras. It wouldn’t matter if anyone saw her face when she was done. She would be in the wind before anyone realized what had gone wrong. She was good at being in the wind. She would leave clues so West would find her when he broke out, and then they could be together forever.

The doors were locked well, but the windows were your standard, everyday panes. It was simple enough for Lillian to jimmy one open. She climbed in, closed the window, and then got to work.

“You stupid bitch,” she whispered. “You stupid fucking piece of shit worthless goddamned whore.”

She giggled softly. That felt good. She hated Faith Bold, and one day, she would say so to her face, along with every colorful phrase she felt like. Then she’d cut her stomach open and pull her intestines out. Then she’d strangle her to death.

That was her latest fantasy. Before that, she had imagined tying her to a pole by her throat and watching her slowly choke to death. Before that, she had imagined hogtying her and sticking a knuckle spreader into her mouth, then opening it until her jaw broke. That probably wouldn’t kill her, but she’d figure something out after that.

She couldn’t understand what in God’s name West had seen in Faith. She wasn’t especially pretty. She wasn’t especially smart. She hadn’t been the one to kill Jethro Trammell, the Donkey Killer that West considered his inspiration. That was her partner, Michael Prince. She hadn’t been the one to catch West either. That had been a couple of city cops responding to one of Faith’s home security alarms.

Yet for some reason, the only man Lillian Martin had ever loved was obsessed with this stupid, fucking bimbo bitch FBI agent whose biggest claim to fame was having a cute dog.

She grinned at that thought, showing her teeth. “She won’t have a dog much longer,” she said in a singsong voice. “Because Silly Lily’s gonna kill him dead.”

She giggled at that. Silly Lily. That would have been a good nickname for her. She wondered what her old counselor would have said to her if she suggested that.

Good ol’ Dr. Ramon. He of the wandering eyes and just enough intelligence to know that trying to touch her would have meant getting his dick ripped off. Maybe one day she’d pay him a visit.

First things first, though. She needed to kill Faith Bold. She needed to show Franklin West that she was the one he wanted, not this FBI slut.

She couldn’t do that with the dog, though. Frank had beaten Turk in a fight before, but Frank was a strong man. She was athletic, but she was petite. She could only kill people by sneaking up on them, and she wasn’t going to sneak up on a trained police dog.

“Nope! I’m going to poison him!”

She opened the bag of dry food and sprinkled the cyanide salt all over it. She giggled, imagining Turk taking a bite of the food and wondering why it tasted different. Would he wonder that, or would he just go nom nom nom like the big dumb mutt he was.

“Gonna kill Turk dead, gonna make Faith watch him diiiieee.”

She finished with the dry food and looked at the wet food. All sealed cans. Nothing to do there. If she opened a can, Faith would know someone had been there.

Well, that was all right. Turk would eat dry food eventually. She’d keep watching until she knew Turk was dead. After Turk was dead, getting to Faith would be easy. She was so much less dangerous than she thought she was.

And once Faith was dead, Lillian would go to West. She’d break him out of jail, and the two of them would be together forever and ever and ever and ever and ever.

She giggled and clapped her hands. Then she put everything back where she had found it, left the house, locked it, and returned to her car.

Only a matter of time, she thought. Then I’m going to tear you to fucking pieces, you asshole bitch.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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