Anyway, he was in a good mood no matter what Monroe had in store for him today. He had just come from Ellie’s place, and as usual after spending a night with Ellie, he was riding on a cloud of joy and not just advanced, active adapting air suspension.

  He reached the field office just in time to see Faith drive her ancient cop car past the gate. He honked his horn, and both Faith and the gate guard offered him a finger. He laughed and tipped the gate guard a twenty to calm any sore nerves, then followed his partner into the garage.

  When he got out of his car, Turk leapt into his arms, wagging his tail and whining with excitement. “Hey, boy!” he said. “Good to see you too!”

  Turk barked exuberantly, and Michael said, “I know, your mommy never brings you to visit anymore. What a mean mommy, keeping you away like that.”

  “You can visit, too, dumbass,” Faith said. “You know, when you’re not busy playing hide the salami with your new girlfriend.”

  “There’s no need to be mean because you’re jealous,” Michael said smugly.

  Faith rolled her eyes. “Keep it up, and I won’t buy you coffee from that fancy hipster shop you like later.”

  “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?” Michael said, smiling sweetly.

  “Good save,” Faith said, “but you’re on probation.”

  They headed inside and went straight to Monroe’s office. As usual, the Boss wore a deep scowl as he regarded the two agents.

  “Prince, what the hell’s up with you?” he asked Michael. “You look like you just lost your virginity.”

  Michael reddened, slightly irritated that the Boss’s words could have this effect on him. It didn’t help that Faith snickered when the Boss said that, but it did help that the Boss snapped his eyes to Faith and said, “What’s so funny, Bold?” wiping the smile from Faith’s face.

  Michael couldn’t resist. “Boss, you look particularly healthy today. I see the new diet is helping.”

  “Funny,” the Boss replied in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t. “When you two are ready to be adults, I have a case for you.”

  “Go ahead, Boss,” Faith said in the clipped, professional tone she always adopted when she was on the job.

  “Tucson, Arizona,” the Boss said, dropping a case file in front of the two of them. Michael picked up the file and opened it, showing it to Faith as he read.

  “Two women murdered,” the Boss said. “In their homes, alone, at night.”

  Faith and Michael exchanged glances. Horrible as it was to say, sexual crimes like this were all too common. Normally, the FBI wasn’t called in on rape-murders until the third victim classified the perpetrators as serial rapists and killers, but if the circumstances of the case were unusual or local law enforcement considered it a certainty that they would strike again, they would call the FBI in early.

  “So, what’s unusual about this?” Michael asked.

  “No known motive,” the Boss replied, “nothing taken from the home, very little to no damage related to entry and lying in wait, and no sign of sexual assault.”

  They raised their eyebrows at this. “No sign at all?” Faith asked.

  “None,” the Boss said. “The victims were stabbed to death, once in the throat and once in the heart, always in that order.”

  “To keep them from screaming,” Faith said.

  “Most likely,” the Boss said.

  “You mentioned the killer lay in wait,” Michael said. “Where exactly?”

  “The bedroom closet of Katherine Navarro—that’s your first victim—and the bathroom of Amanda Montgomery—that’s victim number two.”

  Michael looked at the pictures of both women. Amanda’s wounds appeared almost surgically clean while Katherine’s appeared as ragged gashes in her chest and neck. That wasn’t surprising. Killers typically improved their MO as they killed.

  “Looks like the first one struggled.”

  “Yes, but not for long,” the Boss said. “No defensive wounds.”

  “Hmm,” Faith said. “So, he grabbed her, and she had just enough time to pull away when he stabbed her.”

  “Looks that way,” the Boss said. “Best guess is he learned his lesson and waited in the shower until the second victim entered the shower and killed her before she could react.”

  “But he didn’t stay to clean the evidence,” Faith said.

  “Well,” the Boss said, “hopefully, we stop him before he learns that lesson.”

  “And the locals have had no luck with identifying marks?” Michael asked.

  “Plenty,” the Boss responded, “but it’s turned up a big fat zero on their end. They even used our database and got the same goose egg.”

  “Possibly a vagrant?” Michael suggested.

  “I’ve given you all the information I have,” the Boss said. “Anything else, you can get from the locals. Then you can find out for sure if the killer’s a vagrant or not. Hopefully before he manages to kill anyone else.”

  Michael winced at that. Their last investigation had begun with two victims and ended with three, four if you counted Beau Carpenter, who would spend the rest of his life drinking his meals through a straw.

  “We’ll do the best we can, sir.”

  “Fuck your best, Prince. Do the goddamned job.”

  Michael should have known better than to say that. He nodded and said, “Will do, sir.”

  “Wonderful. Your plane leaves in an hour.”

  “Coach, I assume?” Michael asked.

  “You want to fly business class, buy your own ticket,” the Boss said, “and I swear to God, if you try to upgrade your living arrangements again, you can walk back.”

  Michael winced again. During the Cedar Hills case, he had taken advantage of Bureau politics surrounding the case to expense a nice hotel room and several better-than-necessary meals. The Boss, as one might imagine, was not pleased.

  “Coach it is,” Faith said, “and Michael will be perfectly content with the hotel you’ve chosen, sir.”

  “When did you become a kissass, Bold?” the Boss asked.

  Michael turned, expecting to see a smirk on Faith’s face. Instead, her lips were thinned in anger, and when she replied, “My apologies, sir,” her voice was laced with venom.

  They left the office, and when they were in Michael’s car, he said, “What was that about?”

  “The Boss? You know how he is.”

  “No, I mean you. I’ve never seen you so angry with him before.”

  She shrugged and looked out the passenger window. “I guess I just had enough of it today.”

  “Enough of what? You’ve worked with him for years; you know he’s a hardass.”

  “Did my mother die suddenly and appoint you as her successor?” Faith asked. “I was pissed, okay? It happens to the best of us.”

  “You, too, I guess,” Michael said.

  He waited for Faith to roll her eyes, but she only stared out the window. He probed a little more. “Upset because you’re missing your date?”

  She sighed and turned to Michael, and his spirits rose a little when he saw her typical exasperated parent look. He grinned and asked, “So, how are things with you and David?”

  “Fine,” she said resignedly.

  “Yeah, he’s a good-looking guy,” Michael quipped. “Bet he looks just as good out of his clothes as he does in them.”

  “Yes, Michael, he’s better than you,” Faith deadpanned. “He’s bigger and stronger and better than you in bed. He’s more manly in every way, and I have no idea how I was ever attracted to you.”

  “Christ, all right,” Michael said, lifting a hand placatingly. “Boyfriend’s off limits. Got it. For the record, I was only asking because I’m happy for you.”

  Faith sighed. “Thank you, Michael, I appreciate that, but … look, there’s nothing to talk about anyway. We’ve only been dating for a month.”

  “All right,” Michael said. “I said he’s off limits, and I meant it. I won’t bring him up unless you bring him up. Speaking of, have you brought him up yet?”

  “Oh my God!” Faith cried, and Michael’s spirits rose a little more when he caught the small smirk on her face. He no longer had any romantic feelings for Faith, but he preferred her happy and not in one of the moods she fell into so often since the incident with Jethro Trammell last year.

  His smile faded as he recalled seeing her in the hospital. Turk, perhaps sensing his change in attitude, trotted in between them and barked. Faith smiled and stroked his fur. “So, how’s your new girl doing, Michael?”

  “Ellie? She’s great. She’s everything I never knew I wanted. She’s sweet and kind and so empathetic. We’ll stay awake all night just talking about everything. I share so much with her. I never thought I’d meet anyone I’m so comfortable with.”

  He glanced at her and saw a touch of something he thought might be wistfulness in his fire. “Sorry,” he said, “we don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.”

  “No, please,” Faith said, “continue. I asked because I wanted to know. Believe it or not, I’m happy for you too.”

  Michael grinned. “I’m happy for me too. I really never thought I’d find someone like her. I know that you don’t believe in soulmates, Faith, but I think she really is mine.”

  “That’s good,” Faith said, “just make sure you don’t get involved with the divorce. I’m sure she’s ready to move on completely once her husband becomes her ex-husband, but in the meantime, just don’t put your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. That only makes things worse.”

  “Well, when she gets divorced, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Faith glanced sharply at him. “When she gets divorced? I thought she had already filed.”

  “Well,” Michael said, “not yet.”

  Faith stared a moment. “You told me she was in the process of getting divorced. You told me she only had to wait for the paperwork to go through.”

  “Well, that’s what she told me,” Michael said, “but we talked, and she told me that she only told me that because she was afraid if I found out she was still married, I wouldn’t want anything to do with her.”

  “Well, yeah,” Faith said. “Not even you have self-esteem low enough to be the other guy in an affair.”

  “Hey, take it easy,” Michael said, growing irritated. “I’m not the other guy, okay? She’s separated. Has been since before I met her. She lives on her own in the city, and her husband has his new girl in their house out in Bald Lake.”

  “And he knows about you?”

  “Yes,” Michael said. “He doesn’t care. He barely acknowledged it when she told him.”

  “And she told you this,” Faith said.

  Michael glanced over at her. “If you have something to say, Faith, I’d appreciate it if you said it.”

  Faith lifted both of her hands and said, “I’m just saying be careful. I’m sure she likes you.”

  “She does,” Michael insisted.

  “I’m sure she does,” Faith repeated, “but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still married. Sometimes people think they’re ready to move on, but they aren’t.”

  “You don’t know her, Faith,” Michael said.

  “No, I don’t,” she admitted. “I just want you to be careful, is all.”

  He didn’t reply to her. He hated that her words angered him so much. More than that, he hated that she was right. Any objective examination of the case would tell Michael that he was treading dangerous ground with Ellie.

  But she was different. He hated how childish that thought was, but childish or not, it was true. He had seen the empathy in her eyes when he told her of his father’s death, his mother’s descent into alcoholism, his brother’s incarceration, and even his brief romance with Faith. She had listened, and she had cared, more than anyone he’d ever known.

  He trusted her. He had been an investigator for fifteen years. He could tell when people were lying to him. She wasn’t lying.

  He glanced at Faith again and could tell that she didn’t feel the same as he did.

  Well, she didn’t know Ellie. When she met her, she would know Michael was right about her. That was the answer. He would introduce the two of them.

  Eventually.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “So, we can’t see the first crime scene?” Faith asked.

  “You can see it,” Travis said, “but I’ll be surprised as shit if the husband hasn’t cleaned it up already. I can’t imagine he wants to see the outline of his wife’s body in blood every night.”

  They had landed in Tucson at six-thirty. After navigating their way through baggage claim—Michael grousing the whole way—they were met outside by two police officers in plainclothes.

  The older of the officers introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Travis Brown. He was in his late forties, five-foot-ten and about 240 pounds, barrel-chested, and husky. He lacked only the trench coat and fedora to look like an old-school, hardboiled detective from a film noir movie.

  The younger officer was still a few years older than Faith, around Michael’s age. He was a few inches taller and a good sixty pounds lighter than Travis, possessed of a lean, athletic build—a runner’s build, Faith guessed. He introduced himself as Detective Derek Chapman.

  “We’ll review the forensics reports,” Michael said, “and we’ll interview the husband too. For now, we’ll go look at the second scene while it’s still fresh.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s fresh,” Travis said. “It’s been two days since Mrs. Montgomery was killed, and CSI’s picked through it pretty clean.”

  Faith frowned. Travis’s pessimistic attitude concerned her. The last time she’d dealt with a pessimist, his incompetence had nearly derailed their investigation. Well, pessimism and incompetence weren’t necessarily the same thing. No one would call Faith an optimist, but no one would deny that she was competent either.

  Unless it came to the copycat Donkey Killer. Then she was just worthless without her little psych clearance.

  Well, now look who had a pessimistic attitude. She grinned slightly as she realized that this case would prevent her from making her psychology appointment tomorrow.

  “Something funny, Agent?” Travis asked.

  “Just happy to be here,” she said, smiling at him.

  He chuckled. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”

  They followed the detectives to their police cruiser. Faith was grateful to see it was an SUV and not an old Crown Vic or the godawful Fusion-based car that many departments had replaced the Crown Vic with. She loved driving her Crown Vic, but she hated riding in the back seat.

  Derek drove, pulling smoothly into airport traffic and hitting his lights so he could accelerate past the traffic.

  “You a runner, Derek?” Faith asked.

  He glanced appreciatively at her in the rearview mirror. “Why yes,” he said, “how could you tell?”

  “You have the look,” Faith said. “What have you guys learned so far?”

  Derek glanced at Travis, who cast an irritated look of his own in reply. “You’re allowed to answer questions, Detective Chapman.”

  Derek reddened, and Travis glanced over his shoulder at Michael, to whom he seemed to have taken a liking. “Picked this kid out of a group of twenty hopefuls because he looked like the most decisive of the bunch. Now he won’t take a shit without raising his hand.”

  “I guess you read the evidence wrong,” Derek quipped.

  “There’s still time to send you to Records,” Travis said.

  “The case?” Faith reminded them.

  “Other than what we’ve sent you,” Derek said, “we learned today that both victims were missing their wedding rings.”

  “You just learned that today?” Michael asked.

  “The assumption was that they lost them,” Derek said, “or that they took them off intentionally.”

  “Did they live near each other?” Faith asked.

  Travis lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s a connection?”

  “It could be,” Faith said. “In our last case, the killer turned out to be murdering people he felt lacking in moral fiber. He believed they were damaging the beauty of his neighborhood.”

  “Well, the neighborhood’s not a connection between these victims,” Derek said. “Mrs. Montgomery lived in Marana. It’s a bedroom community a few minutes north of Tucson.”

  “And Katherine Navarro lived in Tucson,” Michael said.

  “Yes,” Derek replied. “Verde Catalina. It’s the wealthiest neighborhood in the city.”

  “The neighborhood might not be a connection, but the moral connection could still be there,” Faith said. “We’ll reserve judgment on that until we review more of the facts, though. Do you believe the serial killer is keeping these rings as trophies?”

  “That’s our hypothesis at the moment.”

  “And you’ve had no luck with fingerprints?”

  “None. The killer left some behind, but whoever he is, he’s not registered.”

  “But you know it’s a he,” Faith said, “that’s something.”

  “Well, we know it’s a male,” Derek said. “We don’t know if he identifies as a man. We’re just using he/him for now.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe the killer might identify as female?” Michael asked.

  “No, but we’re leaving open the possibility that he’s keeping the rings as trophies so he can fantasize about himself as a bride. You know, like that guy from the movie about the cannibal.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Travis said. “Neither of the victim’s clothing was disturbed.”

  “True,” Derek said. “I didn’t say it was a strong possibility.”

  “Let’s hold off on the speculation for now,” Faith said. “We can reapproach this another time.”

  “Fair enough,” Derek said. “Sorry if it seems like we’re grabbing at straws. We’re very concerned this killer will strike again soon.”

  “How long ago was the first victim killed?” Faith asked.

  “Two weeks,” Derek replied, “and you already know Mrs. Montgomery was killed two days ago.”

  “Well, that’s slower than our last killer,” Michael offered.