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.
CHAPTER NINE
“So we’re looking for a thimble?”Marcus asked.
“Yes,” Kate confirmed.“And hopefully some clue to what it might mean.”
He turned the corner onto Gloria Prentiss’s street.The tires chirped a little as the car passed over a drift of slush at the curb, but Marcus quickly got it under control.
The snow was a little thicker in Greenfield, Indiana, still not much to speak of, but more than the light dusting that decorated Portland and Dayton.The trees here were almost all evergreen, some of them of the broadleaf variety.That always seemed odd to Kate.It was like a rendering error had caused summer and winter to resolve at the same time, leaving the harsh bright green of the broadleaf trees to clash with the deeper tones of the conifers.
Every now and then, they came across a deciduous tree that had the decency to shed its leaves, revealing its skeleton of branches.Upon second glance, Kate decided it wasn’t an improvement.They were like ghosts lurking among the living, a silent promise that one day, all would join them in the darkness beyond.
The homes were a little less eerie, weathered but beautiful wood-frame Craftsman homes with brick chimneys, shingled roofs, and covered porches on small, well-ordered lots set back from the road.The neighborhood reminded her of her childhood home in Chicago, christened Mulberries by a much younger Kate who still believed that bad people existed only in stories and life would always work out in the end for good people.
She wondered if that was why Cox selected this neighborhood.Schulz’s home, too, was in a typical middle-class setting, not quite the same as this but in the ballpark.Was Cox once more trying to assault Kate’s childhood memories?
“Here we are,” Marcus said, pulling the SUV into the driveway of a light gray example of the typical Craftsman design, single-story but with an attic and a wide, sloping roof.Smaller trees grew on either side of the home, and Kate noted with approval that they were proper evergreens—spruces, she believed.
“No other vehicles present,” Marcus remarked.“That’s a good sign.Maybe we’re the only ones here.”
“Fingers crossed.”
They approached the door and tried the handle.Unlocked.Kate was sure they weren’t going to run into Cox here, but she unclipped her handgun just in case they stumbled across a looter or a vagrant.
“Weird that they left the place unlocked,” Marcus noted.
“Yeah,” Kate agreed.“Just keep your wits about you.”
Marcus chuckled and affected a horrible British accent.“Aye aye, guv’nuh.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to hide how good it felt to banter with him.
They entered the house and found a living room that was just as fitting to a retired, elderly schoolteacher as Warren Schulz's home was to a middle-aged, thrice-divorced man.The furniture was all plush cloth, and a rug sat underneath the coffee table.The television was modestly sized and set to the side of the living room, allowing the large brick fireplace to dominate the front.A picture sat on the mantel, a framed photograph of a couple in their early forties with a quartet of children ranging in age from their early to late teens.
The house was clean and dusted.Someone had definitely been here, though it didn’t immediately appear that they’d moved anything.
Kate picked up the photograph and studied it.
“Gloria?”Marcus asked.