Page 42 of So Lethal

Whatever. If they came back with an interpreter, he’d talk. He knew ASL well enough now that he could get the general gist of things. Otherwise, they and that dead stuck-up bitch could go screw themselves.

That thought brought a flood of remorse. Sarah hadn’t done anything to deserve that anger. And she was dead now. Had he really fallen so far that he was going to delight in a woman’s death?

He looked at the bottle of vodka and made a choice. No more. He figured he’d have a bad couple of days of withdrawals, but he’d get through it. Then he’d find something else to do. His disability wasn’t much, but that with his pension and the social security checks he would start getting in seven months when he turned fifty-five would be enough to keep him alive. Thank God he had finished paying his mortgage. He could take walks, he could travel, he could see movies at the Regal downtown. They had a screening of each movie reserved for the hearing impaired. He’d be okay.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. God, he was drunk.

A soft rumbling came to his ears. He stopped dead still. His ears. A rumbling came to his ears.

A cascade of emotions ran through him. You’re probably just so shitfaced that you’re hallucinating.

But he heard it again, and there was no mistake, that’s what it was. He heard it. He heard the sound of… what was it?

He got to his feet and followed the sound. It was coming from his backyard. A mountain lion, maybe?

He grabbed his shotgun by the door, just in case, and headed into his backyard. There was nothing there.

His heart dropped to his feet. It was a hallucination. There was no sound.

The grief was so sharp that his earlier resolve wavered. Maybe he’d just have one more drink and throw everything away tomorrow.

He turned around and saw a blur of motion. Something hit him hard on the jaw, and he dropped to the ground. Consciousness faded before alarm could reach the forefront of his mind. Darkness settled over him, and peace returned once more.

Then everything was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Faith rejoined Rebecca and Michael at the room.

“I’m very sorry,” Rebecca said softly. “If I’d known you were suffering from hearing loss, I wouldn’t have been so rude. I didn’t mean to minimize your fear.”

Faith forced a smile and said, “That’s all right.”

“Just so you know, there are resources all over the country for people like you. There are advocates who will help you—”

“I appreciate that,” Faith said, “Thank you. I’d rather focus on the case now, so if you are still willing to interpret for us—”

"Oh yes, absolutely. I was a little freaked out when I realized that you guys suspected me, but I definitely want to help you find the killer if he's still out there. I don't know if Marcus was a killer, but he was definitely violent, so it wouldn't surprise me."

“Well, we’ll handle the detective work. You just need to make sure we all understand each other.”

“Of course. And if you need—”

“That’s all I need,” Faith said bluntly.

Rebecca reddened slightly and lowered her eyes. “Right.”

Michael frowned at Faith, but the last thing she needed from him right now was judgment. She brushed past Rebecca and left the hotel room. The others followed, Turk right at her side looking at her with concern. She reached down to scratch him behind his ear. “I’m all right, boy.”

Turk’s expression suggested he didn’t believe that for a second.

Michael kept up the conversation with Rebecca as they drove to Marcus Wolfe’s house. He was probably doing that so Faith didn’t have to talk with her and could have time to calm down and focus on the task ahead. Faith had time to calm down, but she didn’t do a very good job of focusing on the upcoming interview with Marcus.

Why had she reacted like that? It was fine to be afraid of losing her hearing, but to lose control like that? What was going on?

She had been emotionally fragile in the past, beginning with her recovery from the torture she’d endured at the hands of Jethro Trammell. Turk had come into her life and helped her through that, but then the Copycat Killer had come up, and Faith started to suffer from nightmares. When that copycat killer was revealed to be none other than her therapist, Dr. Franklin West, she had come dangerously close to going off the deep end.

Now she was teetering on the edge again, and it wasn’t just a little hearing trouble that was doing it. There was a third killer out there, also obsessed with Faith, also killing people close to her in vicious ways to get her attention.

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