CHAPTER EIGHT
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound like a cipher.”
Her face fell. “That’s what Marcus says. And I get that it’s not a cipher according to the textbook definition, but it’s something, right? I mean… I’m not crazy. This sounds like something Cox would do, doesn’t it?”
Gabe’s tone was gentle when he replied, “I would never presume to call you crazy, Kate. However, I have to admit that it does appear to be a stretch to believe these murders are connected to Elijah Cox.”
“They have to be,” Kate insisted. She was aware that she sounded crazy, and that did nothing to improve her mood. “Everything else fits.”
“I can’t speak to what else you’re seeing,” Gabe replied, still in that gentle tone, the tone someone might use to calm a hysterical patient. “But I can say that there’s nothing on the surface that suggests a cipher, per se.”
Kate grabbed onto that, per se, like a lifeline. "But it is a message, isn’t it?”
“Of a sort, yes. A deeply hidden one. The killer is pointing out something specific about each victim, daring people to understand. Or perhaps one person.”
Yeah. Me. “What do you think it means?”
“Well, the eighth commandment is thou shalt not steal. If this is Cox, then it’s safe to believe that he’s punishing them for breaking that commandment.”
Kate paced back and forth in front of the house. Detective French was on his way to the crime lab to drop off the ceramic bird. He promised to be back to take the two of them to a rental car agency so they could have their own transportation, but for the moment, Kate was alone.
“They have no criminal records, though. None of them. I checked while I was talking to you.”
“Oh, so that’s why you sounded distracted. You know, I much prefer face-to-face conversations for that reason. You can’t ignore someone when you’re looking them in the eye.”
"I wasn't ignoring you. I was fact-checking to ensure I was on the right track."
“I also prefer face-to-face conversation because it’s easier to tell when someone is teasing that way. As for the criminal records, that only means they haven’t been caught.”
Kate relaxed slightly. “That’s what I told Marcus, but he didn’t bite.”
“Well, it’s still a rather thin case,” Gabe replied. “But I’m not a detective, so I’ll limit my help to the question you asked me. If this is a cipher of some sort, then Cox is using those objects as symbols of the theft committed that justified their death.”
“How?”
“That, I believe, will end up being the primary question you must answer. Send me the photographs. I’ll take a look and see if I can find an historical analogue.
I know that betrothed women were required in some societies to provide bloody sheets as a token of their virginity either on or before their wedding nights.
Perhaps there are other examples of objects used as accusatory evidence in religious settings. ”
Kate wrinkled her nose at Gabe’s example. “I’m pretty sure Cox isn’t taking their virginity.”
“No, but he is shedding their blood. You’d be surprised at the parallels between the taking of virginity and the taking of a life throughout history. Blood is sacred in many cultures, and when it’s shed, even through something so simple as the sexual act—”
“Sounds fascinating,” Kate interrupted, “but I see Marcus coming, so I’m going to have to cut you off there. See what you can dig up for me.”
“I will. How are you doing, Kate?”
Kate tensed a little. “Fine. I’m good, really. I have to go, Gabe. We’ll talk later.”
“Of course. Just take care of yourself. Please.”
Kate hung up before Gabe could make things even more awkward and smiled at her partner. “Get anything?”
Marcus walked stiffly, hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed, mouth pinched together in an almost childlike moue. He looked at Kate and deflated, shoulders and head dropping. “Yeah.”
“What is it?” Kate asked.
“It’s Cox,” Marcus said softly.
A flurry of competing emotions rushed through Kate at that admission.
Triumph that she had finally gotten Marcus on her side, fear that she was once more on the hunt for a man who had gotten the best of her as often as the other way around, worry that they were starting too late and Cox could be on his way to kill someone else or to flee across the continent while they picked at old scabs.
In the end, she only said, “How did you find out?”
Marcus sighed. “Father Holbrook described a Father Raymond Glover from the Diocese of Richmond. Tall, thin, silver hair and unusually piercing blue eyes. He said Glover had the sort of will that would make you want to bare your soul to him.”
Another flurry of emotions ran through Kate. “That’s Cox.”
“Yeah,” Marcus said, clearly less happy than she was. “Almost certainly.”
“Why was he here? I mean officially.”
"Well, he was here three weeks ago, taking confessions for two days while Father Holbrook was laid up after hip surgery."
“Confessions… That’s how he did it. He got Warren to confess to theft and killed him for it.”
Marcus nodded. “That makes sense.”
“And he was only here for two days?”
“Yes. I feel obligated to say that it could be someone else, so we shouldn’t be absolutely certain, but… yeah, it’s probably him.”
Kate frowned. “If so, then he came back to kill Schulz.”
“Yep.”
Kate’s frown deepened. “Why are you so upset? This is what you wanted. This is our chance to catch him. That’s what you’ve been working on for the past two months straight.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re right, this is a good thing.” He looked around and frowned. “Where’s French?”
“He’s dropping evidence off at the crime lab, then he’s going to take us to a rental car agency.”
“Yeah, we should have grabbed one when we got here. I’m going to see if there’s one within walking distance. Otherwise, maybe we can catch a rideshare instead of waiting for French.”
“And go where?”
Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we’re kind of done here, aren’t we?”
Kate got the impression Marcus just needed something to do, so she gave him something.
“Call the Diocese of Richmond. See if they’ve ever heard of this Father Glover.
I’ll call Winters and update her. It might be worthwhile to broadcast another public service message letting people know that he’s posing as a priest.”
Marcus stared moodily at Schulz’s house. “Well, we already gave people his description. We put a news bulletin out to the whole country the day after he escaped. Schulz still let him inside his home.”
He pulled his phone out and looked up the number for the Richmond diocese, leaving Kate to ruminate over that observation while she called their boss.
Winters answered on the first ring and, as usual, got straight to business. “What do you have for me, Kate?”
“We have a description from the local parish priest matching Cox. It appears he was in the area a few weeks ago hearing confessions.”
Winters cursed. “Shit. What do you think? Is this him or a lookalike?”
“I can’t see how it could be a lookalike, ma’am.”
“Did you find a cipher?”
“No,” Kate admitted, “but I believe the objects are the cipher.”
“The objects?”
Kate gave Winters a brief overview of the misplaced objects in the crime scene photos and her belief that Cox positioned those objects intentionally to send a message.
Winters asked similar clarifying questions as Marcus, though without the same emotional content and without suggesting that Kate was obsessing.
That was an encouraging sign. If Winters was worried about Kate’s involvement, she wouldn’t be reluctant to say so.
She left out the part about calling Gabe Levine to look into the precedent of objects as accusatory messages.
There was bad blood between Gabe and Winters that neither wanted to talk about.
Winters typically didn’t forbid Kate from using Gabe as a resource, but she would definitely have a problem with Kate giving Gave crime scene photos.
When she finished, Winters said, “I see. Well, Cox doesn’t leave messages for you on every case, but it’s not too much of a stretch to believe that his anger toward you has grown since you captured him a second time.
He might be less concerned with teaching the world and more concerned with teaching you. ”
Once again, Kate felt conflicting emotions. On one hand, it was nice to feel her own opinions validated. On the other hand, it meant that Cox was coming for her again. Each time that happened in the past, it ended with a violent confrontation. Her throat tightened again, and she swallowed.
“I’ll reach out to the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops and alert them to the problem,” Winters replied. “I’ll also reach out to Headquarters to broadcast a public service announcement warning people that Cox is disguising himself as a visiting priest. Is there anything you two need from me?”
Kate thought for a second. “Yes. See if the Church will get you records of every parish that logged a visiting or substitute clergyman over the past two months and check FBI records for any homicide or suspicious death recorded within two hundred miles of those locations.”
“That’ll keep the desk jockeys busy,” Winters said drily. “All right. I’ll get that done. Keep up the good work. And be safe.”
“I will,” Kate replied. At least as long as it’s possible to do both.
She hung up and looked at Marcus. He had finished his phone call and had his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t know if that database search is going to help us,” he said.
“Richmond has no record of a Father Raymond Glover, and Holbrook never requested a substitute priest. He just saw Cox and took him at face value.”
Kate looked back at the house, once owned by a dead man who made the same mistake.
She feared Marcus was right. People trusted priests.
Even when scandal after scandal proved that not all priests were righteous, people still trusted them.
That was why Cox didn’t need a disguise.
The robe and collar he wore was disguise enough.
Only it wasn’t Heaven he offered his flock.