Page 18 of So Deranged

“Who, though?We’ve talked to everyone close to him, and they all tell us one of two stories: either he was happy all the time and a joy to everyone, or he was depressed and haunted by his time in the war.He didn’t have enemies, just people who admired him and people who pitied him.”

The two agents had spent the first two hours of their stay at the Hancock Village Inn calling Paul’s closest associates.According to Penny and Stan, those were his boss, the receptionist at their business, the proprietor of the Riverbank Bar, and another veteran named Kyle Gaston who lived in Cadosia just north of Hancock Village.They hadn’t visited any of the named individuals and hadn’t needed to.Kyle was at the Riverbank Bar, and security footage placed him and the bartender there until two in the morning, well past the time their killer would have needed to start his mission.The boss and receptionist were both petite women, not strong enough to carry Paul’s body or dig a grave.

“Could be someone from his past,” Michael suggested.“Someone he fought with.”

“That could be hundreds of people.”She sighed.“I guess do some checking into his military background.Maybe something will jump out at us here.I just really thought we’d get a bead on something after talking to his wife and his best friend.You’d think they would know if he was facing some danger.”

“There’s an old proverb that says a man has three faces,” Michael remarked.“One he shows the world, one he shows his family, and one he shows himself.We’ve seen two of his faces.Maybe the third face is the one that got him killed.”He frowned.“Does that make sense?I didn’t explain it well.”

“I think so.You’re trying to say that Penny and his coworkers knew him one way, and his veteran buddies and the bartender knew him another way.Maybe the killer knew him a third way, and he just hid that part of himself well.”

"Exactly.The question is, how do we reveal that third face?"

“If it’s there to be revealed,” Faith replied.She sighed and rubbed her eyes.“Damn it.”

“What?What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna pass out.I can’t stay awake.The coffee’s not helping.”

“That’s all right.Go ahead and get some rest.I’ll keep working while you sleep.”

She glared at him.“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’ve worked with you for twelve years,” he said placidly.“Going on thirteen.There is no way to make you feel better.You’re going to feel however you’re going to feel.Just know thatIfeel it’s okay if you need to rest.Besides, Turk’s sleeping.”

Faith looked in between the hotel room’s two beds.As usual, Turk had fallen asleep almost immediately after dinner and remained where he had lain down, his head resting on his paws and one ear up to listen for danger.

Couldn’t hear the danger that almost killed you though, poor boy,Faith thought.Sneaky bitch came in when we were both out of the house.

“Faith?You okay?”

Faith stirred and turned to Michael.“Fine.Yeah, you’re right.I’m just tired.I’ll head to bed.If you find anything, wake me up, okay?”

“You got it.And I promise I won’t bust out the permanent marker while you’re sleeping.”

“If you value certain beloved parts of your body, you’ll definitely keep the marker away from me.”

He lifted his hands.“Yep.Got it.”

She headed to the bathroom to change into a t-shirt and sweatpants.She and Michael had dated briefly years ago, and while David didn’t have a problem with the two of them sharing a room and spending so much time together for their work, Michael’s wife, Ellie, only barely tolerated it.She was pretty sure she could strip naked and dance on a pole without tempting Michael these days, but she might as well err on the side of too appropriate.

God, why was she thinking about that?She really did need to rest.

She tried to ignore the twin pangs of guilt and envy she felt when she came out of the bathroom to see Michael alert and leaning over his laptop continuing to work on their case.For God’s sake, he was six years older than her.Why washethe more energetic one?

As soon as she lay on her bed, her irritation faded.Everything faded but her need to close her eyes and rest.She was awake for the deep inhale of her first breath and asleep by the time it left her.

***

She opened her eyes to a familiar scene.She was tied to a chair in an abandoned barn.The only light came through a crack near the upper left corner of the barn behind her.The shaft of sunlight that pierced the crack fell over a surgical tray topped with several rusty cutting implements.

In a moment, the door ahead would open, searing her eyes with another blaze of light.Jethro Trammell, the Donkey Killer, the seven-foot brute who had killed Special Agent Jack Preston and nearly killed his K9 unit, Turk, would walk inside, taunt her for a few minutes, then pick up a rusty knife.He would lean close, whisper in her ear,“Let’s see you bleed, little girl,”then cut her until she woke up.

In real life, he’d cut her until Michael burst through the door.She was unconscious from blood loss and shock by then.Jethro would turn around, shocked at having been found, and Michael would put a bullet in his head.This being a dream, he probably wouldn’t make it past the first cut.

Faith rolled her eyes.Of course, she was having this nightmare again.Months free of any nightmares, and now she got to see Jethro Trammell every night once more.Goddamn that bitch Messenger.

She blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, she wasn't in the chair anymore.Not that chair, anyway.She was on the futon where she had sat and on rare occasions lain while Dr.Franklin West conducted their sessions.She was still bound at the wrists and ankles this time.Was West going to come in and cut her the way he did his victims in intentional imitation of his idol, Trammell?Was he going to use his fists to beat her like he'd done twice?Or was he going to stop screwing around and just shoot her already?

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