CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kate reviewed Paul Delaney’s juvenile record on the flight to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to look at the Ruth Osgood scene.
Marcus had been in a foul mood since returning from the courthouse, and since Kate wanted to travel to Harrisburg anyway to hopefully find another clue that could lead them to Cox, she kept her earlier speculation to herself.
Now that she was reading Delaney’s file, she decided Marcus would have to get over his mood.
As she suspected, Delaney was unrepentant of that crime. Even arrogant. When asked straight up why he stole the seemingly random items, Paul said, “Because nothing feels as good as making something yours when other people say you can’t have it.”
Paul had such little remorse that the detective felt compelled to note that Paul exhibited “sociopathic tendencies which will certainly manifest in violence later in life.”
“We need to look for a reformed kleptomaniac,” she told Marcus.
“Well, yeah,” Marcus replied. “It’s obvious that all the victims are compulsive thieves.”
“Yes, but it’s not just that. Cox is telling a story here. He’s illustrating the path to repentance.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed. “The path to repentance?”
“Yes. You read Paul Delaney’s father. He flaunted his crime.”
“Yeah, but his crime was committed when he was a child.”
“True, but there’s no indication he ever repented of it. No indication he stopped stealing either.”
“We can’t just assume he was still stealing.”
“Just listen,” Kate snapped. “The cufflinks are in the key bowl where car keys stay. Ready to grab and take outside in front of the world. Ruth Osgood loved her sin, but not enough to flaunt it anymore. She kept her love private, in her bedroom.”
Marcus nodded slowly. “Okay, I follow so far.”
“Then you have Jordan Prescott with the watch in the kitchen. Jordan didn’t love stealing anymore, but he needed it. It was sustenance.”
“You can love food.”
“What do you love more, food or sex?”
Marcus grimaced. “Do we think Cox is being that blunt with his metaphor? We said before that he’s not crass.”
“He would consider the bedroom sacred, and if people chose to make it not sacred, then it was the people who were the problem.”
"Okay, fair enough. So the music box on the windowsill is shame. No longer loving or feeding off of it, but wanting the rest of the world not to know. Maybe a closet alcoholic or drug addict kind of thing?"
“I don’t think substance abuse is an intentional correlation,” Kate said, “but I suppose so.”
“So then Gloria Prentiss is starting to repent, and Warren Schulz is almost completely repenting but having trouble letting go of that one thing,” Marcus said, arriving at her conclusion.
“Exactly,” Kate said, “and what’s next after that?”
“Completely repenting.” He grinned. “A reformed kleptomaniac.”
“Exactly. Call Poppy. See if she can locate individuals who might be candidates.”
As Kate’s had a few hours ago, Marcus’s grin faded. “That’s a lot of people. And we won’t be able to find all of them.”
Kate sighed. “I know. We’ll have to hope the next intended victim is someone who’s gone public with their repentance, maybe someone running a program for other kleptomaniacs. Have her look for people like that or something similar who also live in a parish where a guest priest visited recently.”
“That’s a lot of moving parts,” Marcus remarked.
“That’s why I want Poppy to handle it.”
Poppy Klamath was the field office's youngest agent. She had assisted Kate and Marcus with the commandment killings on occasion. She was a whiz at research, gifted, unlike anyone else Kate had ever met, at sifting through the sea of information and finding the specific bits Kate needed.
“All right. I’ll get on it. Sure you don’t want us to focus on that too?”
“No. Like you said, there’s a possibility that the next victim won’t be in the public eye. I want to see if we can find another angle to follow in case that doesn’t work out.”
“Fair enough.”
The captain announced the descent, and Kate turned her focus to Ruth Osgood.
Cox was devious, and like the snake who first perverted God’s will, he was excellent at hiding among the leaves before slipping out to sink his fangs into his unsuspecting targets.
He might choose a target who, like Eve, was away from those who would protect her from his venom.
But snakes shed their skin from time to time, and sometimes, those old scales led the way to the reptile despite its best efforts to hide. Hopefully, one of those scales would turn up at Ruth Osgood's house and take away another avenue of escape.
***
Kate entered Ruth Osgood's home and found a scene similar to the others.
The house was tidy, save for a layer of dust, and decorated with the quaint furnishings and trinkets one would expect from the home of an older woman.
There was no sign of a struggle. Cox had strangled her far too fast for her to raise any alarm.
She walked to the bedroom and found the stone dog on the bed. Its wide painted eyes stared through the curtains covering the bedroom window, diffuse sunlight making its eyes seem wild, frightened.
“Hello,” Marcus said, looking through the window. “Who’s this?”
Kate frowned as she got out of the rental and saw the elderly woman standing on the front porch of Ruth Osgood’s home. She approached the house and called a greeting.
The woman turned around. She looked to be in her eighties with heavily wrinkled skin and curly white hair. She didn’t slouch, but her movements were deliberate and careful, and she squinted at the two agents for a moment before she realized what they were.
Her eyes widened. “Oh wow. The FBI. So it is true. That priest is killing people again.”
Kate and Marcus shared a look, and the woman explained, “I saw it on the news. The FBI’s warning people not to trust priests they don’t recognize. They said that man, the one who burned that church last year, is killing people again.”
Well, at least the public service announcement is doing its job. “I’m afraid so. May I ask… Are you all right?”
The older woman was shaking like a leaf now.
Marcus stepped close and put a protective arm around her.
Kate wasn’t sure it was a good idea to touch someone without asking first, but the old woman sank gratefully into Marcus’s arms. “It’s just so horrible.
Poor Ruth. And to think it could have been me. ”
Kate’s ears perked up. “Are you saying you met the man who killed Ruth Osgood?”
The woman nodded. She took a deep breath and pulled away from Marcus, smiling gratefully for the hug. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Carlotta Fenwick. I live next-door.”
She extended a hand, which Kate took. Her skin was paper-thin and dry as parchment. Kate amended her earlier estimate. Ms. Fenwick was likely in her nineties.
“May I ask what you were doing on Mrs. Osgood’s porch?” Kate asked.
“Miss Osgood,” Carlotta corrected. “Ruth never married. A pity. She was a beautiful young woman when she was younger. Then again, she had certain habits.”
Kate was pretty sure she knew what those habits were, but she asked anyway. “What habits were those?”
“Well…” Carlotta glanced through the door. “She was prone to thieving, I’m sorry to say. Never anything too exquisite, but I and the others in the neighborhood made sure to lock our valuables away.”
“I see. Is that why you were on her porch?”
“Well…” Carlotta looked through the door again. Then she flipped her hand. “It’s nothing. I only thought that now that she was dead, she might not have need of it anymore.”
Kate took a breath to quell her frustration. Like many elderly people, Carlotta was speaking as though they knew what she was talking about. “What exactly did you think she might not need?”
“My dog.”
Kate recalled the photograph. “That would be the stone lawn ornament.”
“Well, I kept it on my porch, not my lawn, but yes. I didn’t say anything when she took it years ago. I liked Ruth in spite of her problems, and I didn’t want to embarrass her. But now…” She flushed. “Oh, it’s not important. I shouldn’t snoop.”
“You said you saw the priest,” Marcus said. “Did you talk to him?”
“Oh yes. He took my confession.”
A chill ran down Kate’s spine. “That’s why you said it could have been you.”
Carlotta nodded and shivered. She reached for the back of the porch swing standing to the left of the door.
Marcus grabbed her hand and helped her sit, but this time, she didn’t smile.
The color had drained from her face, and her eyes were as big as saucers as she imagined Cox throttling the life out of her instead of her thieving neighbor.
Kate understood that fear. She knew firsthand what it felt like to have Cox’s hands around her throat. Carlotta’s eyes were the eyes of a woman who realized all at once how narrowly she had escaped death.
The rising sun broke through the clouds and bathed the trio in warmth. Carlotta visibly relaxed, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. When she opened her eyes again, they had regained their focus.
“When did you first encounter the visiting priest?” Kate asked.
“This would have been about a month ago,” she told the investigators.
“I attend mass when I can, but I no longer drive, so unless my grandson is in town, I typically confess at home. Father Harkness was out of town for a conference in Rome at the time, so I assumed the diocese sent Father Archibald to cover for him.”
Kate started. “Father who?”
“Father Archibald.”
“Can you describe him?” Kate asked.
“He was tall.” Carlotta nodded at Marcus.
“Almost as tall as you but much thinner. He had brown eyes and short dark hair, but I believe it was dyed. There were streaks on the forehead at the roots. I remember believing it was rather vain of a priest to die his hair, but he was kind, so I decided to avoid the sin of judgment.”
Kate and Marcus shared a grim look. Cox had changed his appearance. That could be why their public announcement hadn’t yielded his location.
“Did he approach you at home?” Marcus asked.
“Yes. He knocked on the door and introduced himself. He told me that Father Harkness approached him about an elderly woman who was unable to attend mass and required confession at home. I saw no reason to doubt him. He had such a kind smile.” She lifted a wavering hand to her face and wiped the corner of her eye.
“What did you two speak about?” Kate replied.
Carlotta gave her a knowing smile. “Darling, confession is between the penitent and her priest.”
“I understand,” Kate replied, “and I’m not asking you to share what you confessed with him. Specifically, I’m wondering if he asked you about the eighth commandment.”
“He didn’t reference it specifically,” Carlotta replied. “I brought up Ruth’s habits, and… Oh, I suppose I can tell you. I confessed to lingering hurt and anger over the theft. I told you a moment ago that it wasn’t important, but it was. To me, at least. I was quite fond of that dog.”
“What was his reply?”
“He said that I should trust in God. He reminded me of Romans 12:19. ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.’ I remember I laughed. I said God couldn’t possibly care enough about my old porch dog to punish Ruth for stealing it. He took that quite badly.”
“Badly how?”
“Well, he stopped smiling. His eyes became cold. His voice changed too. He said that I shouldn’t take God’s name in vain.
“Naturally, I was confused. I asked him what he meant by that, and he replied that if God in His Word said that He would take vengeance, then He would. I…”
Her lower lip trembled. She looked over Kate’s shoulder warily, as though Cox was approaching from behind Kate.
The skin on the back of Kate’s neck prickled, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw only a kid on a bicycle passing by, giving the trio of adults only a passing glance as he moved on to enjoy the pristine world most children were granted.
“I didn’t think much. I felt guilty but not scared.
He was a priest, after all. He admonished me for my own protection.
I apologized and asked if I should pray the rosary for forgiveness.
He smiled again and told me that God had already forgiven me for my repentance.
That was the key, he said. To repent. Sin was inescapable, but to commit it and offer no penitence was unconscionable.
He told me he would talk to Ruth and give her a chance to confess and to make amends. I told him…”
Her eyes widened again. Her mouth dropped open in a perfect O. “Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh my Lord. It was me. I told him about Ruth, and that’s why he killed her.”
“No,” Marcus said firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. He would have found and killed Ruth without you. You did nothing wrong.”
“Oh God,” Carlotta whispered again, tears streaming down her face now. “I didn’t know. I thought he was a man of God.”
“Like my partner said,” Kate told her, “it’s not your fault.” She got to her feet. “Marcus, will you help Mrs. Fenwick to her own home?” To Carlotta, she said, “I’ll need to collect your stone dog for evidence, but when this case is concluded, I’ll see if I can have it returned to you.”
“Keep it,” Carlotta replied with sudden viciousness. “I don’t want it.”
A few minutes later as they left the house, Marcus said, “Carlotta told me to tell you she meant it about the dog. She doesn’t want it back.”
“I don’t blame her,” Kate replied. “I wouldn’t want it back either.”
Marcus nodded. “So. Cox is using a disguise now.”
“Yes. He knows people are looking for him. Call Winters. Have her reach out to the Conference of Bishops so they can step up policing their parishes. Maybe repeat the warning we gave the public about Cox and tell the Conference to inform their priests to report any visiting clergy.”
“All right.”
They drove toward the center of town to look for a hotel. Marcus called Winters and got her assurance that the Catholic Church would cooperate, but she would broach the subject of proactive interviews with priests.
They just needed to figure out who he was going to kill next. They just needed to get a step ahead of Cox before he slithered away and left another victim standing naked in the memory of their sin.