CHAPTER THREE

Faith watched from her seat on the sofa as her husband stumbled through the door. She could smell the booze from her position and her lip curled in disgust.

"Had a good time?"

Fred looked up quickly, willing his body to still. "Faith, hey Faith," he slurred, "watcha doin' up so late, huh? You gotta get ya beauty sleep ya know. Ya don't wanna be old and ugly, ya know." He tried to adopt a stern look.

"I thought you said you were working a double," Faith said quietly, not a question.

"I was!" he exclaimed. "A double of tequila, a double of schnapps, a double of jagermeister." he trailed off, cracking up over his joke.

"There's a serial killer running around out there," Faith warned sternly, "you might wanna be more careful about your little drinking jaunts."

"Serial killer?" Fred asked, astonished. "I ain't 'fraid of no serial killer. I'd kick me some serial killer ass, I'd-"

"Go to bed Fred," Faith interrupted. He smiled and nodded, stumbling towards the back. Faith put her head in her hands and silently cried. ×××××××××

".and having to wake up next to the stench. The least he could do is pass out in the bathtub."

Bosco looked at his partner in sympathy. Fred was falling into the bottle again and the strain was starting to show on Faith. He felt helpless as he watched her struggle to hide her pain and despair behind the anger. They were dining at Ricardo's on break from the intense evidence search. The city was leaning hard on the police department to find a break in "The Duct Tape Killer" case.

"And Emily. She looks at him with such contempt sometimes," Faith went on. "The sad thing is, I can't blame her. I look at him that way myself sometimes."

"What about AA?" Bosco suggested. "It seemed to work for him last time."

"Obviously not if he's drinking not one year later," Faith snapped.

Bosco reached over and rubbed Faith's shoulder. She closed her eyes, wishing herself away, far, far away. When she opened her eyes she was struck by the intensity of Bosco's gaze.

"What can I do, Faith?" he asked softly.

"Get me a ticket to Barbados," she joked weakly. She was starting to feel foolish, unloading her problems on Bosco.

"Only if I get to tag along," he joined in, winking. "I hear the chicks are bronze all year long."

"So are the guys.how soon can you get the tickets?"

They laughed, glad to break the tension. Their radios came to life, summoning them back to the daily grind. Faith reached into her purse to grab her wallet.

"Let me," she offered.

"Oooh, a woman who pays. You're after my own heart."

The smile on Faith's lips died as she opened her wallet. It was empty, missing two twenties. She searched her purse coming up empty-handed.

"I don't believe this," she said smacking her forehead. "My money's missing!"

"Are you sure? Maybe you left it at home," Bosco offered.

Faith vigorously shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I had forty bucks in my wallet when I got off last night. I went straight home and stayed there 'til I left for work."

"Wait." Bosco murmured, piecing it together. "You're not suggesting.come on, Faith. Which one?"

"Take your pick," she said angrily. "Charlie wouldn't know what to do with five bucks, much less forty, so we can rule him out. So that leaves my drunkard husband or my fibbing daughter. My money's on the daughter, no pun and all that."

"You've been losing shit left and right lately," Bosco reasoned. "This is probably the latest in the series."

"No," she repeated. "Think about it. My jacket? My earrings? Money? I think Emily may have graduated from liar to thief."

Bosco sighed. "What are ya gonna do?"

"I'm going to knock some sense into her," Faith answered, decisively.

"Well, in the mean time, I'll get the bill."