CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Damn,” Rivera said. “That sucks. I really thought he was gonna be the guy.”
The three of them were at the field office after finishing with their respective tasks.
It was now after dark, and the bright Miami sun had been replaced with the almost-as-bright Miami lights.
The noise, a steady roar of drunk tourists mixed with the usual big-city symphony of car horns and squealing brakes just filtered through the double-paned window of the briefing room, punctuated every now and then with the sharp bark of what Kate really hoped was a firecracker.
“So did we,” Kate said. “He had the potential for violence. He even threatened Marcus.”
Rivera looked Marcus up and down. Marcus had the ability to appear harmless if he wanted to, but the burly New Yorker also had massive shoulders, thick arms, and hands that were clearly used to applying voice in very capable ways.
Rivera clearly didn’t see how someone could threaten the ex-Navy SEAL. “Guy was stupid too, I guess.”
“Well, he wasn’t the killer,” Marcus said curtly. “Tell us what happened with Maxwell.”
Now that their lead with Thornton had fallen through, Marcus was back to being surly. Or maybe it was what James had said about not cheating on someone even if you thought they didn’t love you anymore and you didn’t love them.
“So,” Rivera said, thankfully unbothered by Marcus’s brusque tone. “Kyle Maxwell. Guy’s a former Miami Police Officer. Served ten years and then was let go for undisclosed reasons.”
“Figures,” Marcus scoffed. “Probably didn’t keep up with his paperwork.”
“Judging by the mess in his office, you might be right,” Rivera agreed. “But we got through that mess. Nearly all of it’s junk, but we did find out that he was hired to spy on both the Carltons and Dr. Hammond.”
Kate lifted an eyebrow. “Same client for both?”
“No.” Seeing Kate’s disappointment, he smirked.
“Yeah, I had the same thought. Would have been convenient. But no, it looks like he was hired to spy on the Carltons by a man who believed—correctly as it turns out—that his wife was showing up to swinger parties and offering herself as…” He cleared his throat, “Well, the details don’t matter.
The point is she was cheating on him. Maxwell took some photos, but he got caught.
The Carltons took his phone, deleted the image, and—according to Maxwell—threatened to utterly ruin him if he ever told anyone anything about what happened at those parties. ”
“Did he?”
“He says yes. Says he told the client about the party and that he couldn’t get the pictures. The client decided he was lying, stiffed him his payment, and insisted his wife loved him and would never do anything like that.”
“Fun,” Marcus said drily.
“Desperate,” Rivera countered. “You live with someone long enough, it’s not even about love anymore. It’s about security. No one wants to believe that the foundation to which they’ve dedicated years of their life and entangled their finances and living situation with is that shaky.”
Kate looked away from Marcus so she didn’t have to see the look on his face. “What about Dr. Hammond?”
“That was a woman believing Dr. Hammond had advised her husband to have sex with her sister.”
“Jesus,” Marcus said, throwing his hands in the air and heading for the coffeemaker. “Kate, you want coffee?”
“Yeah, but it’s not gonna make this seem any less absurd.”
Rivera chuckled. “I mean, it’s Miami. We’ve got a joke here. We’re what Las Vegas wants to be when it grows up.”
“Christ, how do people live like this?” Marcus said, handing Kate her cup of coffee and sipping from his. “So did she provide that advice?”
“According to Maxwell, Dr. Hammond declined to provide any information protected by doctor-patient privilege, but she did say that she always told her patients that any sexual encounter needed to be consensual and between adults and that she believed married couples should be in agreement about the sort of open relationships they explored. The assumption was that she wouldn’t have given hubby the go-ahead to boink wifey’s sister. ”
Kate was skeptical. “Well, we know from her reaction to James Thornton’s complaint that Dr. Hammond didn’t really feel that way. Her philosophy was screw everyone, and if someone has a problem, it’s their problem.”
“And what about the nights of the murders? Does Maxwell have alibis?”
“Those are the alibis,” Rivera said. “Saturday night, he was at the Carlton’s party and got kicked out. Last night, he visited Dr. Hammond’s office and got his non-answers.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “He told me he was working another case last night.”
Rivera raised an eyebrow. “Really. That’s interesting.”
“It’s proof,” Marcus said. He began to pace around the room, like a cat pacing its enclosure, frustrated at the glass walls that allowed full view of the world outside but prevented access to it. “Maxwell’s got to be the guy.”
“It’s evidence,” Kate allowed, “not proof. And it doesn’t make sense that he’s the killer.”
“How does it not make sense?” Marcus scoffed.
“He admitted to being at both locations. His cover story of working a case is simultaneously believable and flimsy. He told me that he disapproved of the Carltons and Hammond. He was cagey with me and only talked when he was threatened with legal action, and now it comes to light that he lied to me about his alibi for Dr. Hammond’s murder.
He didn’t even admit to knowing the Carltons. ”
“Yes, but why would he murder people he can be directly tied to?”
“Kate, every killer we’ve found can be tied to their victims.”
“Yes, but not so brazenly. Emily Warren and Quinn Marsh were the closest, and Emily was only a court stenographer while Quinn’s mother was tangentially related to my father.” She thought that over and said, “So not even tied to a victim. Just me.” An intended victim, but she didn’t add that part.
“Kate, he was there, he had motive, he had opportunity, and he had the ability. What more do you need?”
His brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his jaw jutted. He was angry. He was jumping to this conclusion because he was angry and because he wanted someone to focus that anger on. That’s why he had a bee in his bonnet about Kyle Maxwell.
She didn’t say that to him, though. Things had been rocky enough between them lately. She kept her argument away from personal observations. “Only a few hours ago, you said it couldn’t possibly be him. What changed?”
“I found out he was lying to me. And you weren’t there, Kate.
You didn’t talk to him. He’s a skeevy guy.
Acted all cynical like he didn’t care, but there’s anger below the surface.
And cunning. I don’t believe a word that came out of his mouth.
I don’t even know if I believe him about his divorces. ”
Kate blinked. “Divorces?”
“Those are real,” Rivera interjected. “I verified those. Even followed up with his most recent ex. Said he’s a lying, cheating son of a bitch but not a killer.
Also says he was probably at the Carltons’ party to find someone else to screw, but since he didn’t show up on the records, I’m going to say his story about getting kicked out and threatened is more likely. ”
“Divorces?” Kate repeated. “Marcus, that rules him out. This killer holds the seventh commandment sacred.”
“Maybe he changed his mind on that after the fact. Maybe he feels guilty.”
“He would have had to have been manipulated by Cox to feel that way. Do you honestly feel he’s the sort of person Cox could manipulate?”
Marcus shook his head. “I’m having second thoughts about Cox being involved. I don’t think we should dismiss Maxwell just because he doesn’t seem like disciple material.”
Kate frowned. “What second thoughts?”
"The genital things get me. This isn't retribution.
I think you're right. I think this is personal. Cox isn't personal. He might personally enjoy killing, but it's not about revenge for him. It's about making a statement. Even if the statement is just window dressing so he can feel like he’s a good guy, he still makes it. Chopping off people’s genitals for the sins of other genitals just doesn’t fit with his behavior.”
“His disciples always have personal reasons for their actions. That’s how Cox gets to them. Look at Quinn Marsh. He hated me because my father chose to save someone else instead of his mother.”
“Okay, but did your father counsel people to cheat on their spouses?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying that we shouldn’t just decide that this isn’t Cox.”
“Nor should we decide that it is Cox,” Marcus retorted. “Think about it. He’s in prison, Kate. Not just prison. Ultra prison. The kind they put terrorist bombers in. He can’t communicate with anyone. I just don’t know how he could recruit anyone from Northbridge.”
“Prison is a recent development,” Kate reminded him. “He’s been back inside for seven months. He could have recruited this killer before then. In fact, he most likely recruited all of his killers at the same time.”
“Maybe,” Marcus allowed. “Or, Maxwell, being the cunning guy, he is, knew that he could hide his murders behind Cox’s umbrella.
So, he pretended to write that cipher and act like he was protecting the sanctity of marriage when really, he doesn’t give a shit about it and had other reasons to want the Carltons and Hammond dead. ”
“What other reasons?”
“I don’t know! I just know we have actual evidence that he was actually there on the evenings of both crimes. That matters a little bit more than religious motive and the insistence that all bad things lead to Elijah-freaking-Cox.”
Kate flinched. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you saying this is just me obsessing over him again? A few hours ago, you were gung-ho to believe this is a commandment killing. Now you’re saying it’s not?”
Marcus lifted his hands and let them fall. “I’m saying that maybe other people are using the commandments as motivation to kill. Maybe it’s not Cox this time. We already have one copycat killer.”
“That was different, and you know it. There was no cipher at that case, and there were witnesses who saw Rosalyn Pierce stab her husband and run out of the house covered in blood.”
“So, this killer is smarter and better than Pierce and knows how to copy an MO.”
“This isn’t a copycat, Marcus.”
“Maybe not. All I’m saying is we don’t know that, and we shouldn’t dismiss evidence because a suspect doesn’t feel like one of Cox’s acolytes.”
“Let’s call it a night,” Rivera suggested, raising his voice to be heard over the two of them.
He dropped it to a conversational tone and explained, “It’s late.
We’ve had a frustrating day. We don’t have any strong leads at the moment.
” When Marcus bristled at that, he added, “We’ll keep an eye on Maxwell.
If he tries to leave town or does anything suspicious, we’ll be on him like flies on shit.
But right now, we have nothing substantial.
We can place him at the scenes but not during the commission of the murders.
We definitely don’t have enough to bring him in.
And I apologize for stepping out of line, but you two can’t be at each other’s throats like this.
Get some rest and come back the next morning as partners. All right?”
Marcus’s lips were as thin as wire, but he nodded curtly.
Kate nodded just as curtly. There was a lot more she wanted to say, but Marcus wasn’t ready to hear it.
Maybe resting would soften the tension between them at least enough to work together.
They needed a lot more work if they were going to deal with the other issues between them, but at least they could—
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s working! I want to speak to my husband!”
Kate stiffened. The color drained from Marcus’s face, and she was sure it was gone from hers too. Oh God no. Please not now.
“Marcus! I know you’re here!”
Rivera cast Marcus a questioning glance. Marcus swallowed and opened his mouth, but before he could explain who had invaded the Miami Field Office, the door to the briefing room opened, and Cheryl burst inside, hands on her hips and anguish and rage in her eyes.