CHAPTER TWENTY
Two hours later, Kate stared at the cipher, frowning darkly.
She’d decoded the entire thing now, but the extra quantity of deciphered code hadn’t brought any more quality information.
The four-part cipher found on the Carlton’s headboard was a shining example of circular reasoning.
Part one: marriage is good. Cheating is bad.
Part two: if you encourage people to cheat, you’re bad and foolish and deserve death.
Part three: marriage was created by God and is therefore holy.
Violate your vows, and you’re a sinner. Part four: sinners deserve punishment.
She’d fixated on that last one for a while. Whoever looks at a woman with lustful intent. Could the killer be a disgruntled spouse who believed that someone was fantasizing about a relationship with Diane Walker? Maybe Robert Chen’s wife?
The problem with that was that there was no connection to the Carltons or Dr. Hammond. Neither Robert nor Diane was on the Carltons’ guest list, and neither of them were patients of Dr. Hammond. Almost in desperation, Kate had looked up Robert Chen’s wife, but she was nowhere near the lists either.
Another problem was that this cipher didn’t mention anything about encouraging people to cheat. If that wasn’t Diane’s crime, then why was she killed?
She had nothing. Nothing except for the motive and the likely connection to Cox that she still couldn’t prove. In fact, the absence of the common thread of “lead others astray and die” suggested that Marcus might be right, and this could be personal and have nothing to do with Cox.
Then again, she had discovered another connection to Cox. Someone was spying on her and Marcus. Someone had taken pictures of them. Someone could be out there right now lurking, watching, though for what purpose now that Cheryl was clued into their feelings for each other, Kate couldn’t guess.
Cox’s voice, smooth and venomous as a snake, slid through her mind. God’s purpose, Kate. His will. Always His will.
Which meant Cox’s will. So, what was Cox’s will now? Why drive a wedge between her and Marcus?
The answer to that was obvious, at least on the surface.
The two of them working together had thwarted him several times before.
The two of them divided left her vulnerable.
Cheryl was only a pawn in that game, probably not even a target for death at this point, though she and everyone else even tangentially close to Kate were probably in danger just for knowing her.
“Shit.”
She lifted her hands to her temples and released a wordless cry. The well-insulated walls and medium-pile carpet—unusually thick for a hotel—muted her cry.
She didn’t know what to do about the case. She didn’t have a single thread to pull. She didn’t even know where to go looking for a thread.
There was one person she always called when she found herself in this position, so she dialed his number, hoping desperately that he would point her to the light at the end of this tunnel.
***
The day was already warm. Marcus hated it.
He’d had enough of warm days. He’d grown up in New York, which, contrary to popular belief, enjoyed its fair share of warmth, but Marcus had always preferred New York’s winters.
Now that he lived in Portland, he loved that city’s even more intense winters.
There was something about a winter’s day: the crispness of the air, the crunch of snow underfoot, the comfort of a good coat and a pair of mittens, the warmth of good coffee permeating his bones, the heat of a woman’s body next to his when the world outside was frozen.
Heat brought different memories. Blinding sun. Baking sand. Blood and violence and death. Separation from home and love, and the knowledge that he might never see those things again.
Elijah Cox was spying on him. Marcus looked around as he paced the Riverwalk, trying to find the son of a bitch spying on him.
He looked for a camera or a cell phone pointed his way, a pair of eyes studiously held away.
He saw nothing. But someone was out there.
Someone had taken pictures of him and Kate and sent it to Cheryl.
He was frightened for Cheryl. It wasn’t that he still loved her or didn’t love Kate, but Cox was a known quantity with Kate. They knew already that she was in danger and probably would be until the son of a bitch was dead and all of his followers rooted out.
Is that why you kept telling her to stop thinking about him? Why you kept insisting that he couldn’t hurt her anymore and couldn’t possibly be behind these murders?
He sighed heavily and ran a hand across his brow.
The answer to those questions was that he really wanted Cox out of the way.
He wanted that son of a bitch gone so he couldn’t be a part of their lives anymore.
He didn’t want Kate to fixate on him again and throw away her career and possibly her life.
Meanwhile, he let his own baggage drag along behind him until it bought a ticket for Miami and confronted him in front of the new life he was trying to build.
Why was he such a coward when it came to women? He wasn’t a coward elsewhere in life. He had stood and faced danger far greater then what the average person could handle. So why, when that danger involved a woman, did he become so… weak?
He pulled his phone out and dialed Cheryl’s number.
He needed to get this over with. It wasn’t just affecting his personal life.
It had bled into his professional life now.
He and Kate were both blundering through this case because they had half their minds on the job and the other half on their possible future or not future or God only knew what.
He needed to put the final nail in this coffin.
The phone went to voicemail. That didn’t surprise him. Nor did it surprise him when the message was no longer the jovial one she’d recorded on their wedding night but a curt, harsh, “This is Cheryl Jones. Leave a message at the tone.”
“Hey, Cheryl, it’s me. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and I don’t blame you.
You didn’t deserve to find out about me and Kate that way.
Absolutely nothing happened between us until after you and I separated.
” He recalled their conversation at the Miami Field Office and amended that to, “After you and I went on break, I mean. But either way, it was shitty that you found out because some asshole sent you a picture of us making out in my car.”
A flash of anger ran through him as he said that. A break? She had left him! She had left their apartment and refused to talk to him. How was he the bad guy for assuming that meant it was over?
He almost pointed that out, but instead, he bit his lip and took a breath. He wanted closure, not more pain. If that meant agreeing that she was right when she wasn’t, then so be it. He wouldn’t have to do that anymore, so what was one last time?
He swallowed. “I was bad to you. I didn’t mean to be.
I really did love you. A part of me always will.
I hate knowing that I messed things up with you so badly.
I won’t ask you to come back. You deserve better.
But I want you to know that I really wanted to make things work with you, and I’ll always regret that I didn’t. ”
He took a deep breath and looked around again.
He couldn’t see anyone spying on him. But someone was.
Maybe not right this second, but one of Cox’s minions was watching.
Lurking. Waiting for what reason Marcus didn’t know.
Maybe it was all part of a game to get to Kate.
Hurt him, kill him, destroy their relationship, something to weaken her.
Maybe it was jealousy. Cox wanted Kate to himself.
In his perverted mind, she belonged to him. Marcus was in the way.
The phone beeped, and Marcus realized he hadn’t finished his message. He cursed and dialed the number again. This time, the call went to voicemail after one ring. Cheryl had blocked him.
He sighed. “Damn it, Cheryl, there are bad people after you. Well, not after you. They’re after Kate, and they’re trying to get to her by screwing with…
Look, I need to make sure you’re protected.
Call me back. Wherever you’re staying, I can make some calls and make sure you’re kept safe.
You don’t need to ever see me again, and you don’t even need to talk to me for that long.
Just call me back so I can make sure someone’s keeping an eye on you, okay? Bye. Love… shit. Goodbye.”
He hung up and had to consciously resist the urge to fling his phone into the Miami River.
He’d gotten used to ending every call and text with Cheryl with love you.
In hindsight, considering how rocky their relationship had always been, it was ridiculous that he would carry that habit after they’d finally called it quits.
That was the dangerous thing about love. It became a habit, one as hard to break as any drug. And now, thanks to Elijah Cox, Marcus didn’t have the luxury of going cold turkey with this one. It lingered, hung around his neck like a chain. Like… what was that word? The Biblical one?
A millstone. That’s what it was like. A millstone hung around his neck, dragging him in a circle, grinding him to powder.
Meanwhile, Cox’s disciple was murdering people at breakneck speed. If Marcus couldn’t break the cycle he was chained to, then he couldn’t find that killer and stop them before they took even more lives.
And Cox, buried in his hole, could sleep contentedly knowing that his promise to Kate had been fulfilled. Stopping him wouldn’t stop the killing.