CHAPTER TWENTY
As night fell once more over the Philadelphia field office, Kate, Marcus, and Darnell sat in the small conference room they’d commandeered as their unofficial task force headquarters and tried to determine where to go next.
“She’s finished, right?” Marcus said. “There’s no one left for her to kill.”
“We can’t just abandon the chase,” Darnell said. “Even if from some perspective the victims deserved to die—”
“Yeah, fuck you,” Marcus interrupted. “I didn’t say we give up. I’m just saying that she’s done, so looking for a potential victim is pointless. The prosecutors and the judge are all dead.” He tilted his head. “Maybe offer the surviving jurors protective custody. Just in case.”
“Yes,” Kate said firmly. “I don’t think they would have figured in Nora’s initial calculations, but they could now. She won’t stop. She’s gotten a taste for killing.”
“Has she, though?” Darnell asked. “She’s avoided it for thirty years and only started now because she’s avenging her brother’s murder now that her parents are dead. Possibly with encouragement from Cox.”
“Definitely with encouragement from Cox,” Kate said.
Marcus and Darnell shared a look, but she didn’t have the patience to deal with either of them pussyfooting around the issue right now.
“There have been four messages addressed directly to me. At least three, and I’ll bet my left eye the fourth one will come back addressed to me, too. Cox is behind this. No question.”
“Fair enough,” Marcus said. “I’m kind of leaning that way, too, to be honest. The scapegoat thing isn’t something people would know unless Cox told them.”
“And me makes three,” Darnell said. “And it’s nice that we all agree about that, but the point is that Nora Avery has been killing to avenge her brother’s death.
There’s no one left to kill. She’ll go into hiding now, and frankly, she’ll be next to impossible to find, especially if she changes her appearance.
Assuming she looks anything like the reconstructions we’ve made in the first place.
Aging someone from fourteen to forty-six is a crapshoot. ”
“She’ll find another victim,” Kate said. “She’s trying to fill a hole. Just like a junkie who needs that next fix, she’ll find someone else to murder. It’s the only thing that keeps the emptiness away.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed. “Are you talking about her or about Cox?”
“Both of them,” she insisted. “Cox is mentally ill. Maybe he doesn’t meet the legal definition of criminally insane, but he’s definitely got some antisocial personality disorder going on.
He kills compulsively because he’s always needed to kill, and now that he’s created a framework that allows himself to believe he’s justified, he’ll do so with impunity.
“Nora isn’t mentally ill, except for maybe some post-traumatic stress and associated depression.
But she’s heartbroken. She never got over the loss of her brother or her parents’ tacit acceptance of that loss when they took the settlement.
If you’re correct, Darnell, then that feeling is exacerbated by her belief that Darnell’s race played a role in his conviction.
That’s been eating at her for decades. She ran from it for decades until Cox showed her a way to fill it.
“But murder never really fills the hole. It never really slakes that thirst. She’ll kill again and again and again until she’s caught or killed. At this point, she has no choice.”
Marcus and Darnell shared another look, this one a weary frustration that Kate understood herself. They were trying to put out a fire by picking through the burn scars. They could see the smoke, but they had no idea where the wind was blowing, no idea what the flame would consume next.
“What about the arresting officers?” Marcus suggested.
“Possibly,” Darnell said. “I’m going to dig through the Avery court records again and identify everyone involved with the case. If you’re right, Kate, then they’re all in danger.”
“Do that,” Kate said. “Marcus, no luck with the neighbors?”
“I would have told you if I learned anything useful,” Marcus replied with a touch of irritation. “No one recognized anyone who looked like the pictures I showed them. None of them, apparently, had ever seen a Black woman in that neighborhood.”
Darnell chuckled contemptuously. “What a shock that would be.”
Marcus ran his hands through his hair. His heels bounced on the ground, tapping a hundred ninety beats per minute as restlessness overtook him.
Kate noticed for the first time that he hadn’t shaved since the start of the case.
The three-day scruff she was used to seeing on him was back, as were the hollows under his eyes.
It’s not just me, she realized. Cox is getting to her, too.
Not just Cox, though. It was the job. This evil, backbreaking, heart-rending job. They lived their lives with their faces buried in darkness. Was it any wonder that they slowly forgot what the light looked like?
Suicide rates of FBI agents were over double that of the general population.
Divorce rates were two-and-a-half times as great.
Alcoholism was rampant among field agents and supervisory employees and increased markedly with greater tenure.
Heart disease was significantly greater among law enforcement than the general public, with stress being a major contributing factor.
What did the future look like for them? Kate rarely thought about what came the following day, so preoccupied was she with the present and the past.
But one day this saga with Cox would end. Stepping away from her emotions, she understood that Cox’s choices couldn’t help but lead to his death or permanent incarceration. He could do phenomenal damage between now and then, but he was going to be stopped eventually.
What happened after? Did Kate find closure? Did she become a happy-go-lucky agent? Did the dead bodies she looked at after hurt less? Did the killers she chased mean less? Did the fact that they had no connection to her father mean she would brush off the pain of their loved ones more easily?
Kate was thirty-seven years old. Later that year, she would turn thirty-eight. Forty was just around the corner, and fifty wasn’t so distant that she couldn’t picture it. Would she make it to sixty intact? Would Marcus?
“Kate? Does that work for you?”
Kate blinked. Marcus and Darnell were looking expectantly at her. She reddened slightly. “I’m sorry. I spaced out a little.”
The two men frowned at each other. “I was saying I could coordinate protection for the other potential victims, starting with the jurors and anyone else Darnell identifies. Maybe you could track down the arresting officers and let me know who they are so I can arrange to protect them, too?”
Kate nodded. “Yeah. Sure. I can do that.”
“Are you sure? If you need to rest—”
“I’m sure,” she replied, firmly enough to shut down that question now and forever.
Just in case, she got to her feet so he couldn’t ask again. “Darnell, text me the names, and I’ll look into them.”
Darnell nodded. “Sure. I’ll do that. How are you feeling, Kate?”
Marcus flushed and looked down at his hands, probably ashamed that he hadn’t thought to ask that but instead tried to suggest his preferred solution.
“I’m fine.” She looked at Marcus. “Really. Thank you both for your concern. I’m not going to pretend I’m happy as a clam, but I know what the job is. I can handle this.”
Darnell smiled wanly. “For now, at least.”
“One more night,” Kate said. “Right?”
Darnell’s smile widened. “Yes. One more night.”
“One more night,” Marcus agreed, meeting her gaze again.
Both men stood, and all three got to work.
Kate stepped outside, choosing to be where the cold, fresh air could sharpen her senses and prevent daydreaming.
The slush had frozen into ice, and more snow was falling, drifting downward in a light dusting to hide the danger from unsuspecting motorists, lulling them into false security with beauty.
Did Nora lull her victims into false security that way?
The reconstructions they’d made didn’t appear particularly attractive, but to an old woman and two old men, she might have seemed beautiful, or at least harmless.
Cox certainly used his charm to glamor his disciples.
Even Kate wasn’t immune to the force of his personality.
She walked around the building, away from the street, just in case a more reckless driver fell victim to the facade of safety the snow provided.
Her phone buzzed a moment later. Darnell provided the four names of the arresting officers. Kate sat on a bench, stiffening slightly as the frigid metal cooled her backside despite the thick coat she wore.
She went through the names one at a time, searching their records in the Philadelphia Police Department and the Pennsylvania DOT’s Driver and Vehicle Services website.
The lead officer, Sergeant Arthur Perkins, had died of COVID during the second year of the pandemic.
Gavin Morrison, then an officer, had retired as a lieutenant the year before and moved to Alaska.
Kate was sure that Nora would find him eventually, but he wasn’t in immediate danger.
That left Ryan Cross and Parker Belton. She contacted the police department, and after a few minutes of working her way through different department heads managed to secure a commitment to provide protection to Lieutenant Cross and Detective Sergeant Belton.
She hung up, her task completed and looked out across the deepening night. Where are you, Nora Avery?
After a minute, her phone buzzed. She didn’t recognize the number, but the caller ID informed her it was a Philadelphia police number.
She answered and a slightly gravelly voice said, “Kate Valentine?”
“Speaking. Who’s this?”
“I’m Detective Belton. My captain just called to tell me I’m getting an escort home tonight.”
“Ah. Yes, Detective. I’m sure you’re aware that we’re investigating the murders of several actors in the Daniel Avery case from 1991.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry to hear that this is happening.”
“So am I. Aside from confirming the reason for your protective detail, is there a reason you called?”
“Well, I’m not sure we should be wasting resources on me. Or Cross, for that matter, but that’s not my place to say.”
Kate’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“Because we never testified against Daniel Avery. We never suggested in public or private that we believed he was guilty of anything other than resisting with violence and agg assault with GBI.”
Kate’s brow remained furrowed. She got up and started pacing back and forth. “Do you believe he was guilty?”
Belton chuckled. “Well, in hindsight, it’s clear he wasn’t. I have to say, that goes down as the worst botch job I’ve ever seen a DA’s office put together.”
“But at the time.”
“At the time, I made it a point not to believe anything. I wasn’t a detective, and it wasn’t my place to determine guilt or to solve a case.
Even as a detective, I practice willful blindness unless I’m working a case or I’m asked to consult.
Belief is powerful, special agent. Even when it’s shared only in whispers to those closest to you, it spreads, like ink in water. ”
“I’m well aware of that,” Kate said. “So, you never made any statements that were used by the prosecution to incriminate Daniel Avery?”
“Well, I believe they used the assault and resisting charges to paint a picture of Daniel as a career criminal.”
Kate smiled grimly. “Then that’s enough to put you on the killer’s list.”
“Maybe,” Belton said, “but if you’ll permit me to offer some advice, I believe I’m low on that list.”
Kate’s brow furrowed again. “Who do you believe is higher up on that list?”
Belton chuckled. “That’s asking me to speculate on a case I’m not investigating.”
“Yes, it is,” Kate said. “You felt it was important enough to call me. You must have a reason to feel it’s that important.”
Belton was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice carried a slight reluctance. “If I were seeking revenge for the false conviction of an innocent man, I would want the very source of that conviction eliminated.”
Kate shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I follow. Is that not you and the other arresting officers?”
“No,” he replied. “If I were the killer, I would want the person who called us and gave us an innocent man’s description.”
The caller. Of course. The burglary had been called in as a tip. The burglars had disabled the alarm system prior to breaking into the building.
“Who was the caller?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have that information, but the department keeps pretty good records, and considering the body count this case is working up, we’re in a sharing mood.”
“Can you connect me with records?”
“I’m calling from home, but I can give you the number.”
“Yes, please. Thank you, detective.”
“You bet.”
While Kate waited for the number, she texted Marcus and Darnell. Potential new lead. Standby for information.
Her phone buzzed, and Kate immediately dialed the number Belton provided.
A spark now shone in the darkness. Kate only needed it to hold for a little while longer to find the answers she sought.
And perhaps save one lamb from the sacrifice intended by an evil priest.