CHAPTER SIX
Kate stared at the ceramic cardinal, as though willing the bird’s shiny black eyes to transfer the memory of what it had seen to her brain. She even asked aloud, “What happened here?”
The bird gave no response.
“Kind of funny that he didn’t have anything else here,” Detective French opined. “Think this bird belonged to the killer?”
“I do not,” Kate replied. She walked to the fireplace and pointed at a ring on the mantel where something with a base the exact size and shape of the cardinal had lightened the stain of the wood.
More rings and squares decorated the mantel, but the objects they belonged to were missing.
In fact, the ceramic cardinal was the only object in the house that appeared decorative.
Cox had made sure to highlight this bird. What had happened to the other objects?
She filed that question for later and said, “This was definitely Warren’s bird. Did he have a criminal record?”
“No. None. That’s always the first thing we run when we get a report of a murder. Usually a criminal record is a good lead to a motive, but Warren was clean as a whistle.”
“Hmm.”
That didn’t support the idea of Cox being involved, but it didn’t necessarily discount it.
Cox punished people for breaking commandments, not laws.
Then again, stealing was breaking the law.
And she was bothered by the lack of a written cipher.
She’d scoured the entire house and found nothing. Nothing but this ceramic bird.
Still, they’d seen this before, or something similar. The Second Commandment Killer, Thomas Brennan, had left sculpted clay heads at the crime scenes in place of a written cipher. The disciple in this case—or Cox if he was really active again—could be using these objects for a similar purpose.
She pulled a pair of latex gloves on and picked the figurine up.
It was lighter than she expected, and she shifted her grip, afraid of dropping and shattering it.
She turned it over, noting the slight chips and swirls that identified it as a hand-crafted object rather than something made in an assembly line.
It was a curious thing about humanity that they valued imperfection so much more than perfection.
Then again, it wasn’t so curious after all. Imperfection was what made people human.
“If you’re looking for prints, we already dusted. No prints, no DNA evidence of any kind, no fibers. CSI says the killer used latex gloves, so I guess they found some of that but nothing else. Oh, and they said something about the dirt on his shoes—the killer’s shoes—not being from here.”
“Where is it from?”
“Somewhere from Virginia.”
“Virginia?”
“That’s what they said. I forget exactly where, though.”
Kate made a mental note to call the crime lab and get the full answer.
Detective French didn’t seem very invested in this case.
Some locals resisted FBI intervention. Others accepted it but worked closely with the FBI, intending to be as equal a partner as possible.
French, unfortunately, appeared to occupy that third set of locals, the ones who were happy to drop the case in someone else’s lap and pay no more attention to it.
She set the bird back on the coffee table. “Bag that. It’s important. I don’t know why yet, but bag it anyway.”
“You got it.”
The door opened, and Marcus stepped through. He nodded at Kate, then glanced at French, who was opening a vinyl evidence bag. Kate got the hint and followed her partner outside.
On the porch, Marcus crossed her arms and frowned at Kate. Uh oh. Here goes.
“I got nothing from the neighbors. Schulz was a wallflower. Nice but kept to himself. Attended church once a week but there’s no indication he was particularly devout.
They didn’t notice anything or anyone suspicious, although that’s probably just because most people don’t notice anything unless they’re nosy. ”
Kate’s brow furrowed. Maybe this wasn’t the conversation she thought it was. “Okay. Well, I think the bird is important. I think the music box, the watch, and the thimble at Gloria Prentiss’s home are important too.”
“The thimble?”
“It’s less obvious than the others. I’ll show you later. The point is, I think the killer chose those specific items and placed them in specific places to send a message.”
“I agree. I just…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t think the killer is Cox.”
There it is. “I know it’s a bit of a deviation from his ordinary pattern, but it still carries the most important hallmarks of a commandment killing.”
“It’s completely missing those hallmarks,” Marcus insisted, spreading his hands like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Which, apparently, he couldn’t. “Cox and his disciples use murders to send messages to people. There’s no point message here.”
“He kills people who break commandments, and the ciphers explain to others how those commandments are broken. The cipher might be different here, but there’s definitely a message.”
“A message for who? No one cares…” He pressed his lips together for a moment, then amended, “People are upset by Schulz’s death, but not that upset. And if he wants to teach people not to steal, then where’s the cipher?”
“He’s explaining to me,” Kate said, skirting around an answer.
Marcus frowned, and this time, there was emotion behind the frown. “Where’s the cipher, Kate?”
“The objects are the cipher,” Kate insisted. “Think about it. At each home, an object is placed in an odd position and pointed some way.”
“So these guys are untidy.”
“You’re being obtuse.”
“And you’re being obsessive.” Kate stiffened, but Marcus didn’t back down. “I know you hate when I say this, but it’s true. This is what I was worried about. You see him everywhere, Kate. He’s gotten into your head.”
“I stand by my analysis of the scene,” Kate said tersely. “The objects are the cipher. I don’t know if Cox is the murderer, or if it’s one of his disciples, or if it’s just someone inspired by him, but I know for a fact that this is a commandment killing. I need you to trust me.”
Marcus took a deep breath, then released it in a soft whistle. He shook his head, but his face showed that he was going to acquiesce. “Okay. Let’s check Schulz’s criminal record and see what pops up.”
Kate sighed. “He doesn’t have a criminal record.”
Marcus threw his hands in the air. “Kate, Jesus.”
“Not all of our victims have criminal records. In fact, most of them don’t.”
“Okay, well, it’s hard to steal and not have a criminal record.”
“It’s hard to get caught stealing and not have a criminal record,” Kate corrected.
“So Cox somehow figured out that four different people in four different states stole stuff, and he’s using trinkets in their house to send you a message about it?”
“Yes.”
“And you can support that with evidence?”
Kate bit her lip to control her tone. “We’re looking for the evidence now. That’s why we’re here.”
“Well, we’re supposed to find the evidence and draw conclusions after we find it, not the other way around.”
Kate stared daggers at Marcus. He held her gaze. She took one deep breath, then another. As she exhaled, she said, “Very well. I will refrain from jumping to the conclusion that Cox is behind this until we have further evidence. You said he attended mass?”
“Yeah. Every Sunday morning.”
“Well, he was killed Sunday evening. Maybe he confessed something and word got around to Cox.” A lightbulb went off in her head. “Maybe he confessed to Cox.”
“You think Cox is working at the parish church?”
“I think we should find out. That’s your lead, so go to the church and follow up. See if there’s a new priest or a traveling priest. Bonus points if that priest is from Virginia.”
“Virginia?”
“Yes. CSI said the dirt from the killer’s boots is from Virginia.”
“How can they tell?”
“Hell if I know. They go to school for a long time and learn how to use very expensive machines.”
“Jesus.” Marcus sighed. “All right. I’ll go talk to the priest. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to the crime lab. I’m also going to make a call to Gabe.”
“Gabe?”
“I’m convinced those objects are the cipher. Gabe might know what kind of cipher and how to interpret them.”
Marcus nodded. He didn’t look angry anymore, just resigned. That was fine. Resigned Marcus wouldn’t get in her way.
So that’s what we’ve become now. Partners who stay out of each other’s way.
She pushed that emotional thought away and walked toward the cruiser. It was French’s cruiser, and it occurred to Kate that they’d need a rental car, but she could handle that after she talked to Gabe and the crime lab.
Professor Gabriel Levine was renowned in the field of Linguistics and the head of that department at New York University.
He was also Kate’s mentor and the man who had encouraged her to leave academia and pursue law enforcement after her father died.
He was the person Kate trusted most to understand her instincts when it came to encrypted messages.
She called Gabe and got his voicemail. She left him a quick note to call her back, then called the crime lab. The phone was answered by a bored-sounding middle-aged woman with a soft Middle Eastern accent. "Montgomery County Crime Lab."
“Hi, this is Special Agent Kate Valentine, FBI. I have a question regarding the scene of Schulz, Warren, fifty-three-year-old male.”
“Badge number?”
“0914-BQ.”
“One moment.”
French trotted to the cruiser carrying the bagged bird. He smiled at Kate and asked, “Where’s the big guy?”
“Following up on a lead at the church.”
His eyes widened, impressed. “Wow. You guys move quickly.”
That’s what happens when you actually give a shit.
She kept that thought to herself. She really needed to get her emotions under control. It was just hard to do that when it felt like everyone was watching and waiting for her to implode.
“Special Agent Valentine?” a new voice said over the phone. This one was male, younger, and more energetic.
“Yes,” Kate replied. “Are you the lead criminalist for the Warren Schulz scene?”
“Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”
“I heard from the detective on scene that you found soil from Virginia?”
“Yes, we did.”
“Any idea where exactly in Virginia?”
“The Virginia Piedmont. We’ve got chips of gneiss, schist, and granite with acidic red clay. The ratios suggest proximity to the James River specifically.”
Kate jotted down, James River. “Got it. Anything else?”
“Related to the soil? No. Related to the crime scene, we’ve confirmed the use of black latex gloves to strangle Mr. Schulz. Some of the dye embedded itself in his skin.”
"What about the killer? Can you tell if he was tall, short, skinny, or fat?"
“The blunt object used to incapacitate Mr. Schulz appears to have been some sort of truncheon. The angle of the blow suggests the attacker was roughly equal in height to Mr. Schulz. His hands would have been large but not pudgy. Long, bony fingers, very strong. Past that, there’s not much we can tell you.
It was a male killer, but yeah, past that, we’re very dry in terms of evidence. ”
“That’s plenty, Doctor…”
“Piedmont. Unfortunate name, I know.”
Kate smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Piedmont. I’m going to give you my number. If you come across anything else, please reach out.”
“I’ll do that. Good luck, special agent.”
She gave him her Bureau number, then hung up. Her throat felt stiff and tight, and she lifted her hand to stroke it, shivering at the memory of Cox’s fingers wrapped around it, squeezing the life from it.
She was so absorbed in that memory that she squeaked and jumped when her phone buzzed. French turned toward her, frowning. “You all right?”
“Fine,” she replied, reddening.
She smiled to let him know she meant it, then pulled her phone from her pocket. Gabe. Time to validate what she already knew.
This was Cox. It had to be.