But as she lay in the emergency room of St. Luke’s having her arm stitched up by a doctor who appeared to be a teenager, a bubbling fury was by far the strongest emotion she felt. Stronger than fear, which actually might have been more logical. Stronger even than grief, which had colored her world dead black for the past four terrible weeks. In a way, angry felt better. A frightened, grieving woman walked through life with her head down, incapable of action. But an angry woman was a force to be reckoned with. As Detective James Bentley was about to find out. “I said no, and I meant it,” Faith said. “I am not running away, and that’s final. I’m going to stay here and help you catch him.” Detective Bentley had come to know Faith pretty well over the past month—intense emotion was a great social accelerator. He sat down in the guest chair, obviously recognizing that this might take a little longer than he’d expected. “I think,” he said firmly, “you’d better leave the catching part to us.”
