“Click on Julia’s Blog and read the first post.”
He did, and his eyes widened when he read James’s words celebrating the deaths of their victims and claiming the killer was an instrument of God’s justice.“Why didn’t you start with this when I walked in?”
“I was still deciding if I thought it was worth pursuing or not.I wanted to talk it over with you first.”
“Talk it over?I suggested you were wrong about Hartwell, and you nearly bit my ear off.”
She grinned.“Sometimes I need you to tell me I’m wrong.It makes me desperate to proveyouwrong.”
He rolled his eyes.“Do me a favor.Be a littlelesslike Cheryl.”
Kate flushed and for one of the very few times with Marcus had no idea what to say.He turned beet red himself and cleared his throat.“Okay.Yeah, let’s go talk to Whitmore.”
“Call about the search warrant for Hartwell’s apartment first,” Kate said.
“I’ll call on the way.”
They left the office for Whitmore’s apartment in nearby Lincoln Park.Kate’s heart wanted to linger on Marcus’s comment about Cheryl, but her mind knew she needed to keep her focus on the case.They were orbiting the answer now, but their orbit was fragile.Focus, and they would find their landing spot.Lose focus, and they would be flung into outer space.
And their killer would continue to take God’s judgment into their hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When James Whitmore opened the door, Kate’s breath caught in her throat.For a terrifying moment, her mind shrieked that Cox had escaped, had somehow gotten out of solitary and broken out of prison again and was now standing in the doorway staring at her, cold, intense eyes judging her and finding her wanting but fascinating all the same.
After another moment, though, her eyes picked up on the differences that proved this wasn’t the Lawgiver here to torment her once more.For one thing, he was younger.He appeared to be in his early thirties, around Marcus’s age or maybe a few years younger than that.His hair looked gray at first glance, but upon further inspection was an extremely fine light blonde.He was tall like Cox, over six feet, and possessed of a wiry, athletic build that matched Cox’s before he had lost weight and muscle mass due to the sepsis he’d given himself to escape prison in an ambulance months ago.
He wore a black priest’s robe with long sleeves and a skirt that reached all the way to his ankles.The scuffed sneakers that peeked from underneath the robe only served to make his getup more disturbing.She could easily imagine those scuffs gained from climbing into and out of Derek Hammond’s window or trudging across Michelle Santos’s backyard.
And differences aside, his eyes were a carbon copy of Cox’s.They blazed with the same passion, the same fire for his version of justice, the same willingness to do whatever was required to achieve that justice.
All of this ran through her head in the second that passed between James opening the door and Marcus saying, “James Whitmore?”
“Speaking.”
He did so with a calm, cultured voice, another similarity to Cox, as though speaking like a gentleman would somehow make up for the animal that ruled his actions.
“I’m Special Agent Marcus Reid.This is my partner, Special Agent Kate Valentine.We’re with the FBI investigating the murders of Michelle Santos and Derek Hammond.We were hoping you could help us out with a few things.Mind if we come in?”
Whitmore nodded.“Ah yes.I imagined this moment would come.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.“That so?”
“Of course.You are agents of justice, as I am.It was inevitable that our paths would cross.”
Another alarm went off in Kate’s head.Whitmore hadn’t said anything explicitly damning, but the way he delivered that last sentence,it was inevitable that our paths would cross, sounded a little too much like Cox for her comfort.
“What’s with the robes, Mr.Whitmore?”Kate asked.
Whitmore’s smile widened a little.“An affectation, I admit.I admire the Catholic Church for the way it separates the clergy from the laity.”
“And you consider yourself clergy?”
“I serve God,” he replied.He stepped back and gestured for them to enter.
“After you,” Marcus said, not a request.
Whitmore stepped inside, his pace as measured as his voice.Kate was feeling better about him by the second.Although hewastaller than they thought their killer would be.
