k- c
ked his pen again, looking over the top of his notepad at Kacey, who barely registered the ques
ctive
r man with the thin gray hair plastered to his pale s
k-cl
want to shove tha
nightmares about Declan,�� she lied
f the old asylum, of Declan Crowe silhouetted against the windo
at had she seen? Why
ral?�� Faulkner asked, ro
that would be
r class at the LAPD Police Academy, near-perfect scores
ows. Where was the old
,�� he continued. ��Do you want to
t, but the opposite. I��d like
k- c
l office: certificates, diplomas, a bookshelf, lots of potted plants, soothing colors�� and between the two of them, a small glass-top coffee table. Everything situat
to Washington Stat
appened to shrinks using couches?) Kacey d
ne���� He let out an exaggerated ��ahhh��
other. I gre
do you and your b
since she arrived. The two of them had never gotten along very
, back to your roots�� and not six months later
community, some might say; and somehow it turns out he was able to convince seemingly random ind
ess at
� Faulkner continued. ��It was a one-sided conversation, as she suffers fro
of long-handled pruners, strode right past the receptionist to where Duncan Styles sat at his desk; she said ��I am c
same in every case, I��m told,��
then yeah.�� After each killing, the murderers be
me on her phone. Alm
ey. ��I have to ask, Detective Dean: have you experienced any feel
��Only in th
k- c
ou fired your weapon in the line of duty; a man is dead. I��m here to help you, and to a
cey lit up. ��And we��re done! Pass
you once more, at least. With any luck, I hope to earn a bit of your trust.�� Fau
k-cl
ng,�� Faulkner spo
cantly. Kacey��s heart leapt into her throat as she turned to face him. Something was very,
sen,�� Fau