CHAPTER ONE
Faith Bold walked arm in arm with her husband, David Friedman, and thought about how wonderful her life was.
They had just returned from Italy, an abbreviated trip due to a sudden overload of work for David, but still a wonderful weeklong late honeymoon.
They’d married a year ago, but David was still recovering from injuries suffered at the hands of the Messenger, the last of a trio of brutal serial killers obsessed with Faith Bold.
Faith had killed the Messenger during that encounter, but David had nearly died as well, and he wasn’t able to travel when they married.
But that was in the past now. David had recovered fully. They’d enjoyed a wonderful honeymoon and not all was right with the world.
She smiled and allowed herself a moment to anticipate the coming night. Their honeymoon wasn’t over as far as she was concerned. Just because it was their own bed and not an ultra plush resort mattress with rose petals scattered across it didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy it like newlyweds.
Turk, Faith’s German Shepherd and the third member of their little family, barked exuberantly and pranced ahead to investigate a monarch butterfly resting on a bloodroot.
The brilliant white flower looked nothing like blood, unless it was named after a white blood cell.
Faith assumed the roots were red, but she didn’t want to pick the flower and confirm it.
She’d rather imagine it as a snow-white improperly named dewdrop than be reminded of the red of blood pooled around a dead body.
Of course, some killers drained their victims of their blood, so not all of the bodies with which Faith interacted were surrounded by a pool of blood. In fact, that flower’s pale ghostly shade was perfectly indicative of…
Of Faith’s goddamned inability to shut work off for one goddamned day.
Faith Bold was an FBI agent. Officially, she was the Chief Instructor at the FBI Academy’s K9 School, but by special request of the Director of the FBI himself, she was available for the occasional special case.
She liked that job—hell, she loved it—but she wished she could turn off the part of her that constantly thought about casework and serial killers and dead bodies.
Soft lips pressed themselves to her cheek, and look at that, she wasn’t thinking about work anymore. She smiled at David and pressed her own lips to his. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he replied, favoring her with the breathtaking smile that had stolen her heart the moment she saw it. “You are literally perfect.”
She rolled her eyes but kept her smile. “Come on, don’t ruin it.”
“Okay, fine. You’re an ugly bitch, and I hate that I have to deal with your presence.”
She laughed. “Aim for the middle.”
He shrugged. “Meh.”
“Exactly.”
They shared another laugh, and David grinned at Turk, who was now pressing his nose to the ground, wondering where the groundhog he was chasing had gone.
He yelped and jumped back, and Faith caught a brief glimpse of Sir Groundhog chattering irritably at the pooch before disappearing back underground.
“Come on, boy,” Faith said, patting her discomfited pup on the head. “You’re gonna be eleven next month. Haven’t you figured out not to mess with squirrels yet?”
Turk whined morosely but quickly forgot his grief when he saw another butterfly, this one a bright yellow example a little smaller than the monarch but far livelier. “What are those ones called again?” she asked.
“Hmm?” David replied.
“The butterfly.”
“Oh. Um… little yellow.”
She giggled. “Really?”
“Yeah. Why’s that funny?”
“I mean, it’s kind of like calling me average blonde.” She grinned. “Or you big brunette.”
He chuckled. “A for effort on the dirty joke.”
“Who said it was a joke? And anyway, you didn’t marry me for my humor.”
“No. I did not.”
She kissed him again, then leaned her head on his shoulder.
The sun wasn’t quite all the way to its zenith, but the day was already warm.
The last snow had melted the week prior, a little early for the season, but Faith was okay with that.
She loved spring. Winter was beautiful in its own way, but there was something inspiring about seeing life break through after the death of winter.
It was a reminder that the world didn’t end in bleakness and gray.
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh boy. I’ve got a case of the mopeys.”
David didn’t reply. She looked up at him, and her smile faded when she saw him staring intently forward, pressing his lips together hard enough to drive the blood from them. “David?”
He flinched softly. “Hmm? Sorry, what was the question?”
“Well, there wasn’t a question, but now the question is what’s gotten into you? Do you have a case of the mopeys?”
He chuckled, but it sounded forced. “No, I’m just… not looking forward to work, I guess.”
David was the Chief Veterinarian of the FBI’s K9 Academy. He was licensed to see any animal, and semi-occasionally examined dogs from other agencies and even personal pets, but most of his backlog came from Faith’s students and their K9s.
She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I have a big class this time around.”
“That’s a good thing,” David said. “You want a K9 in every field office, so you need to train a lot of dogs.” He returned her smile. “I think I’m just bummed we’re not on vacation anymore.”
She made her smile seductive. “Well, we still have tonight.”
His eyes widened, and his pupils contracted the way they always did.
It might be silly, but she still felt good knowing that a little hint from her could still have that effect on him.
They’d only been married for nine months, but she still liked that she could drive him crazy.
And from time to time, when she was in a very good mood, she would admit that he drove her crazy too.
Part of her mood today was probably a reaction to her own return to work.
She loved teaching, and if a case happened to rear its ugly head, she loved fieldwork too, but she had gotten used to the somewhat slower pace of life out here.
As a field agent in the Philadelphia Field Office, she and her former partner Michael Prince—now the Special Agent-in-Charge of that office—had become celebrities in the Bureau.
They’d traveled all across the country solving some of the most sensational crimes in history and putting some of the most dangerous bad guys behind bars, with Turk’s help, of course.
She was glad sometimes that things had calmed down for her. Other times, she missed the frenetic pace. And days like today, she wished she could just turn off the part of her that needed to work and enjoy a nice, quiet retirement.
Turk stopped suddenly and lifted his head. David and Faith both stopped too, tensing as they watched him. The veteran K9 had the best nose in the business, and if he was smelling something alarming, then chances were it was worth their attention.
Make that Faith’s attention. Her husband was the sexiest man alive to her, but not because of his fighting skills.
Faith disengaged her arm and unclipped her shoulder holster. David frowned at the weapon. He had implored Faith to leave the gun at home. She was glad she hadn’t, but he was probably just upset that she had good reason to bring it.
Not that she was overjoyed by that either. “What is it, Turk? What do you see?”
Turk didn’t answer her, but a cry of shock and fear from over the hill ahead did. Turk bolted toward the sound, and Faith sprinted after him, drawing her handgun and pulling back the slide. “Call nine-one-one!” she called to David over her shoulder.
Turk bounded over the path, and Faith tensed further.
She didn’t like when she couldn’t see Turk.
Ninety-nine times out of a hundred he could handle himself effortlessly when set upon by evildoers, but she’d been there for the few times he was outmatched, and while he might not always look it, he was an older dog.
“Turk! Wait!”
She crested the hill and saw Turk standing next to a woman who lay unconscious on the side of the path. A small Yorkshire terrier yapped crazily next to her head, hopping completely off the ground with each cry of alarm.
Faith quickly scanned the area and saw no one suspicious nearby.
A couple stood about five yards away, staring uncertainly at the body.
Their golden retriever stood protectively in front of them.
The woman clung tightly to her boyfriend’s waist. Faith assumed she was the one who had cried out in alarm.
She holstered her weapon and jogged to the woman. She looked to be in her early sixties, in good shape for that age. She was Caucasian, five-five, and one hundred ten pounds or thereabouts.
Faith logged all of that information instantly, her law enforcement training kicking into gear even though she was rapidly discerning that this wasn’t a crime scene but a medical emergency. She knelt next to the body and pressed her fingers to the woman’s neck. She had a strong pulse, thank God.
The terrier yelped in alarm and snapped at Faith when she reached for her owner’s neck, but Turk nuzzled her, and she calmed down a little. She still trembled and looked at her owner in terror. Poor thing.
“Mama’s gonna be all right, sweetie,” Faith said soothingly.
“Is she dead?” the nearby woman asked.
“No,” Faith said. “She passed out, though.”
“Why?” the male half of the couple asked.
His light tenor voice trembled, and he looked as ashen as the bloodroot flower. Maybe he was the one who had screamed.
“I don’t know,” Faith said, “but emergency services are on their way.”
More voices gasped and exclaimed softly as other parkgoers approached the scene. The woman stirred and moaned. Her eyes blinked open, and she muttered, “Damn. I must have passed out.”
She tried to push herself up, and Faith said, “Try not to move. Emergency services are on their way.”
“It’s all right,” she mumbled. “Can you just hand me a candy bar? I should have one in my purse.”
Ah. Faith understood now. This woman was diabetic. She reached into the woman’s bag and pulled out a chocolate bar, which she unwrapped and handed to the woman.
David jogged over a moment later. “Faith? The ambulance is on the way. Is everything all right?”
“I think so,” Faith said. “Her blood sugar dropped, and she passed out.”
“I’m fine, really,” the woman said. She looked around sheepishly at the small crowd of people and dogs gathered around her. “Sorry to cause trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” David replied, offering her his heartthrob smile. “And I still want the paramedics to take a look at you. You hit your head pretty hard. They need to make sure you didn’t suffer any serious injuries.”
The woman didn’t seem happy with that, but no one could argue with that smile. She nodded and sighed. “This is so embarrassing.”
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. We’re all just glad you’re all right.”
Turk lifted his head and stood at alert again, just as he had when he first smelled trouble. The fallen woman, rapidly recovering now that she was eating sugar, looked at him in wonder. “Did he smell my blood sugar drop?”
“Some dogs are trained to detect changes in blood sugar,” David replied. “Turk isn’t trained specifically for that, but he’s detected it before. He’s an incredibly intelligent dog.”
“I’ll say,” the woman replied. She looked at Turk, who was now staring intently into a stand of trees nearby. Her brow furrowed. “Um… Can I thank him, or…”
“Hold on,” Faith said. The chill in her spine had returned. “What is it, boy? What do you smell?”
A moment later, Turk barked and trotted toward the trees. Faith got up and followed him, eyes widening when she saw another dog, an American Staffordshire Terrier, approaching. The dog was limping and trailing a leash behind her. Flecks of brownish red matted the fur on her muzzle.
Oh God.
“What’s going on?” one of the bystanders asked. “Is that blood?”
“Everyone stay back,” Faith said authoritatively. She looked at the new dog and asked, “What is it, girl? What happened?”
The dog turned around and trotted into the trees. Faith and Turk followed, more cries and gasps from the freshly alarmed crowd echoing after them.
The dog moved deep into the copse, and the path behind was quickly obscured by the thick growth of trees. She came to a stop at the base of one of the trees and looked pleadingly at Faith.
Turk barked in alarm and ran to her side. Faith arrived a moment later and verbalized her earlier oath. “Oh God.”
Lying at the base of the tree was a woman about the same age as the one Faith had helped.
Her eyes were open, but they stared sightlessly up at the branches above.
A small red dot sat directly in between those eyes.
Below her head, blood had turned the dirt into mud, interrupted by a small indentation near her face where the dog had nuzzled her owner, trying in vain to wake her up.
David showed up a second later. “What is it, Faith? What… Oh God.”
“Call nine-one-one again,” Faith said. “Tell them we have a crime scene.”