Chapter Thirty-Four
Faith
Faith had really pushed herself, earbuds in, pumping hard rap music to give her a beat to run to.
She was wearing a short wig and a baseball cap, plus her sunglasses, of course, to hide her eyes.
It had been one month since she was found “dead,” strangled in her car near the TV station.
Although no one in Door County, Wisconsin, would likely recognize her, she still had to be very, very careful.
Faith had worn a wig on air ever since coming back to Detroit because her natural hair had been thinning so much.
Her eyes were always too pale a blue, she thought, so the colored contacts really helped her eye color to pop on the air.
Now the contacts were gone, her eyes reverting from a striking blue to the boring light cornflower she was born with.
A huge collection of wigs had awaited her in the Airbnb when she arrived, left there by Hope.
Wearing a wig for disguise instead of to impress viewers was a strange concept, but she liked the comfort of one on her head.
With that, her thick glasses on, plus a dowdy way of dressing, she was fairly certain she would just blend in.
Not to mention that hardly any tourists in Door County came up this far along the Wisconsin peninsula compared to the other vacation towns of Fish Creek, Ephraim, and Sister Bay, which were always teeming with people from Milwaukee and Chicago.
It was why she and Hope picked this out-of-the-way dot on the map as their starting spot after the disappearance.
Hope did the research and found the long-term rental on the far tip of the county: Gills Rock, unincorporated.
Everyone there kept to themselves. Hope said there were a lot of artists and writers, and so many people lived a quiet, indoor life.
The owners of the house Faith and Hope rented were an older couple who proudly told Hope they didn’t even own a TV in their own house but provided one in the rental.
It felt like extra insurance to the women that the couple would not recognize Faith, even though they only got signals from TV stations in Green Bay and, on a clear day, Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Certainly not from Detroit.
Gills Rock had a single restaurant, the Shoreview, and it was open only on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings due to staffing shortages.
The rest of the tiny hamlet consisted of a maritime museum also with limited hours, three small gift shops for the few tourists or locals who took the ferry across to Washington Island, a playground that always seemed deserted, a smoked-fish store, and one motel that perennially had the VACANCY sign out, although the Y had been rubbed almost invisible for years.
Nature was everywhere. There were so many deer in the wooded areas peeking around trees Faith would sometimes distract herself by counting them.
The wind in the tree provided the only soundtrack most days.
Raccoons, squirrels, and chipmunks abounded.
Hope did their grocery shopping ten minutes down the road at a tiny country place called the Frontier Store in Ellison Bay that closed every night by six PM so the owners could retire to their apartment above the store.
Faith joined Hope there once, as a litmus test to be sure she wasn’t recognized.
Faith kept her eyes low and the brim of her cap pulled down and she never spoke.
Still, she was weak with worry the whole time.
The few townies getting their milk, eggs, and meat only nodded at the sisters in that friendly Midwestern way, and when Hope and Faith walked out the heavy front door with the bell jangling on top and made their way back to their car, Faith had collapsed into the front seat with relief.
The sisters hoped to do something way more adventurous than Gills Rock at some point, but this was home base until they figured out their next move.
The rental house was set well back from the road and hidden by a huge grove of mature oak trees.
The living room and upstairs master bedroom overlooked a bay and they marveled at mesmerizing sunsets that came with facing west. In the backyard a fire pit was set up along with a hammock, a picnic table, and several lounge and camping chairs.
Hope used part of the money she got from selling Kelly’s jewelry to pay for the rental.
Soon the life insurance would be rolling in—thanks to Faith naming Hope as beneficiary—and they would really be set.
A few months and they might be ready to head somewhere else.
They didn’t have a fake passport for Faith and were too scared to try and procure one, so they limited their options to the United States.
At night the duo sat in the backyard with a crackling fire in the fire pit and a bottle of wine on the table between them, and they looked at a map. Maine? The Oregon coast? Myrtle Beach? Arizona? There were so many options. They would have to drive, but that was OK.
Discussions went well into the night about how to use the money to allow them both to live their best lives for decades.
Hope would be the front man now and Faith the quiet sidekick, so different from how they grew up, but when you’ve faked your own death, you have to retreat and morph into someone new. It was worth it to Faith.
Faith knew she could never use her credit cards, ID, anything. But with Hope by her side, she felt she could manage just fine. They planned to get Faith a fake identity—Lord knew there were plenty of ways to do so on the dark web. Hope would also provide Faith with prepaid credit cards.
It was exactly what Faith had been dreaming about for years.
The chance to escape her life as a TV star, but with dignity and the love of the community rather than shame if she just quit.
It had been a treat to watch the vigil through the nanny-cam teddy bear Hope brought along, pretending it was her emotional-support animal.
They named it Mr. Bojangles after a favorite cat they had as children.
So many people showed up to honor Faith at the memorial, and hearing the tributes from her ex-colleagues had actually made her tear up.
After all, doesn’t everyone want to attend their own funeral?
The medical examiner had asked Faith how she wanted to die—he could fake anything on the report—and she had hesitated for only a moment before whispering, “Strangulation.”
He had no idea how personal the idea of strangulation was to Faith. It seemed the only fitting way for her to die in light of what she had done to Charity.
“Ugly way to go but it also makes sense if someone got you in your car,” the ME said flippantly.
Hope suggested Faith also tell the ME to fake that Faith was pregnant.
It would make her all the more the fallen hero in everyone’s eyes.
So they did so, but after they learned that Channel 9 had unexpectedly held back the pregnancy part, Hope had to call Perry and say that as Faith’s next of kin she wanted the information out. That pushed Perry to release it.
Yes, it had been expensive to pay the medical examiner for this whole ruse—$100,000, plus another $50,000 split between two police officers to write a false report that they had come upon the scene.
They promised to pay off any ambulance drivers needed to complete the fictitious tale.
But they were the only ones who knew. Except for Tom, of course. And that was another $50,000.
Faith remembered the night she told Tom she couldn’t take it anymore: the fans who recognized her everywhere she went, the pressure of being perfect on TV; the stalker, Steve, who not only sent letters but had started following her home and beeping his horn when she turned in to the parking garage. He was even showing up at events now.
Then there were the coworkers who hated her, thinking she faked calling in sick all the time when the truth was she needed a lot of mental health days and was scared to admit it. She had a doctor’s note that only Perry and HR knew about for the FMLA accommodation.
Faith couldn’t stomach parades, because the anxiety of such large crowds of people all staring at her nearly crippled her. In her mind someone in the crowd would know the truth about Charity and would be glaring at her. It was ridiculous, of course, but she couldn’t get it out of her head.
Perfect Faith Richards should not require mental health help.
Perfect Faith Richards should not be so tense at in-person events that she could barely function at times, saying “Thanks for watching Channel 9” to everyone as she counted the moments until she could leave.
Perfect Faith Richards was confident, filled with grace and poise.
But the real Faith Richards was a mess, and Faith Richards knew it.
She often had pounding headaches, even as she smiled on air.
Sure the money was great, but she started to feel so stressed coming to work that her hand would shake as she reached for her key card to let herself into the newsroom.
Having such a huge following on social media was what she thought she wanted, but when she got it, the reality was crushing.
The station pushed her for more and more.
More appearances in front of the public, more videos, more earring ideas.
She had become a brand instead of herself.
And she couldn’t think of an escape valve that would keep her reputation intact, give her even more money, and allow her to find her true self again away from TV.