CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Kate sat in her living room, reading the letters found at Nora Avery’s apartment. Nora—now using the name Sharon Amelie—lived in an apartment in Rittenhouse Square only a few buildings down the street from where Iris Doyle lived when she called the police on Nora’s brother.
Nora had moved into that apartment in October, shortly after Elijah Cox’s escape from prison.
The first letter she received predated that escape by a week.
In it, Cox expressed his sympathy for Nora and encouraged her—in the flowery, manipulative language that was Cox’s specialty—to view her suffering not as evil but as an opportunity for good, a chance to proclaim God’s glory.
Kate wondered how much time Nora passed by the café that now stood where thirty-five years ago a jewelry store had been robbed by three young men, at least one of whom never meant to harm anyone but had fallen in with the wrong crowd, realizing too late that they were far more evil than he was prepared to be.
Did it bother her to see that café there, to know that every trace of her brother had been scrubbed from the city that had condemned him?
Did she replay his last free moments in her head, the horror he must have felt seeing an innocent man killed in front of him, the fear when his “friends” shoved the gun in his hand and told him to run that way while they went this way, the grief when he realized they had abandoned him and left him to suffer the fate that should have awaited one or both of them?
Kate would. Kate would think of little else but the unfairness of it all, the injustice of an innocent man who lost his life because of misplaced accusations. Those losses left scars, and those scars never fully healed.
She read on.
The letters from Cox remained vague at first, not explicitly commanding Nora to seek revenge.
They quoted verses, stories of how God used others as tools for vengeance.
He exhorted Nora to “be strong and of good courage” like Joshua, and promised that her enemies would fall before her if she trusted in God to deliver them into her hands.
Encouraging her, exhorting her, manipulating her. Painting a picture of the most satisfying end Nora could imagine: her standing triumphant over her brother’s accusers, punishing them for taking him from her and ruining her own life in the process.
At some point, Nora must have responded positively to those exhortations.
In December, shortly before Kate’s last encounter with Cox, their tone had changed.
Cox specifically referred to himself as the Lawgiver and stated his calling to correct the world for violating God’s commandments.
He told Nova how others had taken up the call with him, and shared that God had called her to enforce His Ninth Commandment.
“Surely you see, my dear Nora, that you are the perfect instrument to reflect His will in this matter. You have suffered from those who bear false witness. You know the damage that evil can do. Will you not accept God’s call and take this chance to make things right?”
And of course, Nora had. She had leaped at that chance, as evidenced by Cox’s next letter.
“I am not surprised to learn of your eagerness, my dear Nora. You are a true servant of God, no Gideon who doubts her place in God’s plan or doubts that He can fulfill it through her.
Your courage is strong, like Joshua’s. Like Jael’s who in God’s name bore a spike and thrust it through the profane king Sisera. ”
That explained the choice of an awl as a weapon. Though Nora had stabbed her victims through the heart, not the temple, so maybe that was only coincidence.
What was definitely not coincidence was the closing statement of this letter. “Leave Kate Valentine a message for me. Embed it in your cipher. Show her the way. God’s will must be done, and she is the key.”
Kate took a deep breath. The faint smell of cinnamon and rose filled her nostrils, rose from the shampoo she’d used an hour ago and cinnamon from the potpourri that now sat on her coffee table. Marcus had chosen it, a surprisingly feminine touch coming from the gruff ex-SEAL.
She released her breath and lifted the last letter.
She stiffened when she saw the date, and a stab of pain rippled through her ribs.
She winced and took another breath to calm herself, though not as deep as the first since she feared straining her ribs.
Her doctor was not happy to see that she’d reinjured herself and warned that another strain like that could result in permanent disability or at the very least, major surgery to replace the damaged ribs.
She waited until her heart calmed, then looked at the date again.
January 3rd. Three weeks ago. About two weeks after their encounter at St. Anselm’s.
The handwriting was different, rougher and heavier, but the style was Cox’s.
Kate guessed that he’d dictated the message to someone, too injured to write it himself.
That injury could also explain the shift in tone.
He didn’t speak to Nora as the Lawgiver, not with authority or instruction.
If anything, he seemed afraid, even guilty.
Like he was reaching out to her for encouragement and help himself.
“I have seen false witness damage lives myself. I have seen an innocent man suffer for the crimes of another. I could have spoken. I could have revealed the truth that would have put the right man in prison and spared the innocent.
“But I didn’t. I didn’t. God help me.
“I had to. It was revealed to me in a dream that the other was necessary for my plan, for God’s plan. I needed him. The world must be corrected, and God showed me exactly how to do it. Had I not stayed silent, I could have lost that tool.
“Kate doesn’t know yet. I’ll tell her, I think, but not yet. I need to make sure the plan is finished. She must play her part. God knows she must play her part.
“It must be part of His plan. Surely, He would not place a stumbling block in front of me. And I didn’t bear false witness; I simply declined to bear true witness. Is that a violation of His commandment? Will I suffer for this?
“Of course I will. Who am I to negotiate with God? I will lead his people to the promised land, but like Moses, I will not enter.
“But he was the key. The key that would lead me to the TRUE key, the scapegoat, my beautiful, perfect lamb, my Kate.
“My fate is intertwined with hers. We will fulfill God’s plan together. We will die together. But only one of us will deserve the eternity to which we are sent.
May God have mercy on my soul.”
Kate stared at the letter, hardly daring to breathe. Cox had survived. Hurt badly, perhaps delirious when he dictated this note, but alive, nonetheless.
That was alarming but not surprising. The surprise was written on this final missive to his Ninth Commandment Killer.
What false witness? What innocent man had suffered so Cox could reserve the guilty one for use as his tool? How had that man led him to Kate?
Had her father born false witness that Cox could have challenged? Had he left William Valentine alive until he was ready to eliminate him and focus on Kate?
Or was Cox saying that he knew who killed her father but refused to say so he could use the real killer to get to Kate?
Kate’s hand trembled as it rose to her throat.
Images flashed across her mind of a man’s hands wrapped tightly around her neck, not Cox’s but Robert Denton’s, the first man who had tried to kill her, not long after she joined the Bureau.
She could smell his sour breath, hear his voice whisper in her ear, calling her his spotted calf, a sickening reference to her freckles.
She’d long suspected that Robert Denton was an early disciple of Cox’s or perhaps that Cox was a disciple of Robert Denton’s. Now, it seemed the first assumption was correct.
Had Cox seen Robert kill her father but kept Robert out of prison because he wanted to use Robert to get to Kate? Did he know of Robert’s predilections and know that Robert would fixate on Kate?
Kate sniffed and swallowed. She set the letter down and gripped her hair with both hands, pulling until she could feel pain in her roots.
Did Cox have her father killed, or did he just see Robert kill him? And if he did, then why was he there? Was he with her father? Were they friends?
Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside. Kate’s hands flew to the letters, gathering them up and quickly replacing them in Nora’s case file.
The latch turned. Kate ran to the bedroom and shoved the file into the top drawer of her dresser. She heard the door open, heard Marcus call, “Kate? You home?”
“In here, big boy,” she called in a lilting voice. What the hell? Why did she do that?
Marcus chuckled, a little nervously. “Are you decent?”
“Only if you want me to be.”
This time, her inner voice screamed, Stop now.
And thank God, she had the presence of mind to listen. She stepped out of the bedroom to find a very perplexed and slightly hopeful Marcus standing in the living room holding two bags of Chinese food.
The hopefulness broke her heart and triggered a sharp yearning that almost overpowered her will.
She even reached up to unbutton her shirt, only at the last second running her hands through her hair instead.
“Hey. I just got out of the shower. I tried this hair serum my mom got me, and now my hair feels like silk.”
The hope died in Marcus’s eyes, but the perplexity remained. No surprise there.
He chuckled and set the food on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen. “Well, thankfully this food comes with plastic forks so we can keep the sharp implements away from you.”
“Hey, don’t give me crap just because I like the way my hair feels for the first time in my life.”
She walked to the coffee table and looked inside the bags. “Ooh. Yummy.”
“Yeah, I even got that honey walnut shrimp crap you like,” Marcus called from the kitchen. “You want a beer?”
“Let some sweetness into your life, Marcus. It won’t kill you.” She turned to him with an apologetic smile. “I’m gonna have to raincheck the beer, though. I told my mom I’d have dinner with her tonight.”
“Ah.” Marcus flexed his hand, dexterously replacing one of the two bottles he held in between his fingers. “First you call to me from the bedroom like you’re seducing me, then you tell me I wasted my money on dinner?”
He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment. Kate’s heart broke again. He still wanted her.
Yeah, and you want him. And both of you are adults and know better.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she said, stepping close and kissing his freshly shaved cheek.
“Sure, you will,” he said. “Hey, I might have a girl over tonight since you’ll be out.”
Kate stopped, her entire body suddenly stiff.
Marcus grinned at her. “Gotcha.”
She rolled her eyes and gave him a very emphatic finger. “Save me some of the honey walnut shrimp.”
“There is no world where a single bite of that junk will enter my mouth,” Marcus told her.
“Good. See you later.”
“See you later, Kate.”
She locked the door behind her and descended the stairs. The cold pierced her thin turtleneck, but she had a coat in her car, so she’d be fine when she reached her mother’s house.
She reached her car, pulled her coat on, stepped inside, and started the engine. While she waited for the car to warm up, she replayed Cox’s message in her head.
She needed to know. Marcus wanted her to let go of the past, to give Cox no ammo to use against her, but she couldn’t. She still didn’t know why her father died, and she couldn’t let go of a chance to find out.
If they were together, if they were anything more than friends, Marcus would push her harder. He would want her to leave that behind. She just couldn’t. Not until she knew.
She sighed heavily, buckled her seatbelt, put the car in gear, and drove away.