And if they didn’t do it quickly, they’d find more rough scrawls taped to more dead bodies announcing the deaths of more innocent victims of an unstable person’s rage and frustration.
CHAPTER THREE
“You guys want coffee?”
Rogers and Hammerton stared coldly at David.The two burly FBI agents no doubt had better things to do than to guard the husband of the Bureau’s darling.They also had no intention of abdicating that responsibility, declining David’s suggestion that they go about their ordinary business and just keep their phones on.
Hammerton, a massive African American man with arms thicker around than David’s legs, replied first.“Yes, please.Black.”
Well, that’s a start.“Black like the night,” he replied with a smile.
Hammerton’s expression didn’t change.David looked at Rogers, an equally massive Caucasian man with thinner (relatively speaking) arms but a powerlifter’s barrel chest and shoulders as broad as some compact cars.“You?”
“Sure,” Rogers replied curtly.
David kept his smile on until he reached the kitchen, then dropped it with a heavy sigh.Jesus, Faith, was this really necessary?
His shoulders slumped a little as he imagined Faith glaring at him.And if he was being honest, itwasnecessary.Faith believed—and David agreed—that the Marine Corps wouldn’t bother following through on their threats as long as David stayed out of the way, but it was still frightening to think that an entire branch of the US military was angry enough at him to send pictures of him to his house and threaten him and his wife.
The thing was that itwasn’tthe entire US Marine Corps.It was only this 93rdTesting Brigade.David understood that they were a real classified unit and their actions were probably sanctioned by the Corps, but how far would the Marines really be willing to take this?Would they actually allow his murder to cover this up?
He wasn’t so convinced.He wasn’t sure what utility their dog testing program could have anyway.The more he turned the problem over in his mind, the more he believed that his brief flirtation with the idea of the group using telepathy to control working dogs was outlandish.They were definitely abusing those dogs, but mind control?That was just science fiction.
But the way Sergeant Whitaker had stared at Sierra when she commanded her to behave.The way Sierra had tried to avoid her eyes, then flinched and… locked in?
“You all right?”
David jumped at Hammerton’s voice.He turned around to see the big man looking at him like he was crazy.Then he looked at the sink to see that he had overfilled the carafe and the water was now running over his hand and down the drain.
He reached forward and shut off the water.“Sorry.Yeah, I spaced out for a second.”
“You want me to make the coffee?”
“No, that’s fine.”He turned back to the FBI agent and smiled.“I got it.”
Hammerton kept the incredulous look on David for a moment before shrugging and leaving the kitchen.David heard him talking to Rogers in a low tone, and heard both agents chuckle.His cheeks burned as he started the coffee.
He really was losing his mind.He was obsessed over Sierra, and it was causing him to make poor decisions.
But damn it, someone needed todosomething!If Turk was in that facility, Faith wouldn’t hesitate.Hell, she would already have broken into the Marine Corps base and broken out all of those dogs.It wasn’t fair that she was locking him at home like he was a grounded child.
Actually, shecouldn’tdo that.He had an important job to do at FBI headquarters examining K9s.His office also saw K9s for various law enforcement agencies and working dogs for other branches of government in addition to the occasional civilian pet.He couldn’t just leave that job to the other staff vets.He was the boss, and he needed to be there.
Today was his day off, but the other two didn’t need to know that.He couldn’t completely shake these two, but they couldn’t follow him into his office.At the very least, he could call some of the numbers he’d written down.
He poured three cups of coffee and headed to the living room.Both FBI agents looked at him warily, like they expected him to throw the coffee in their faces and start shrieking like a monkey.He handed each of them a cup of coffee and said, “So I have to be at the office in about twenty minutes.I can be a little late, but—”
“We’ll drive you,” Rogers interrupted.It wasn’t a request.
“Sure.Thank you.And sorry again.I know I’m pulling you guys away from important work.”
“What the hell is this all about anyway?”Hammerton asked.“Not that we’re not willing to do this, but who’s after you?”
David sipped his coffee and considered his answer.Apparently, Jessica hadn’t shared the situation with them.That was good.Not that it really mattered considering Faith had told the director of the damned FBI, but if he could slow the spread of information, he might be able to get some work done beforeallof his doors were locked.
“We just got some suspicious emails,” he finally said.“I’m pretty sure they’re just pranks, but Faith’s a little jumpy because of what happened in Philadelphia.You guys heard about the thing with the Messenger?”
The Messenger was Lillian Martin, a deeply disturbed woman obsessed with Franklin West, a brutal serial killer known as the Copycat for his own obsession with Jethro Trammell, the notorious Donkey Killer who had killed Turk’s previous handler and nearly killed Faith before Michael Prince shot him dead.Lillian had killed several people in brutal fashion to try to get Faith’s attention, including her neighbor and her boss.Eventually, she had invaded David’s home and nearly killed him.
