“Oh, yeah, I mean… Shit, I don’t know what I mean.I just didn’t kill anyone.I wanted to help people.Look at my website.Yeah, I know I said some shit, but I help people.I raise money.I put them in touch with support groups.I fight for convictions.And you didn’t find a knife, right?No weapons?”
Kate and Marcus shared a look.That was true.After Whitmore’s arrest, Chicago PD had turned the apartment inside out.They’d found a few more crosses and a diary with some vague references to retribution but no murder weapon.Once more, they had a wealth of circumstantial evidence but nothing definite.
And he was sticking steadfastly to the story that he was innocent and his “relationship” with Cox was nothing more than a brief high school visit and a picture.
Except he stillhadthat picture, and he used commandments to justify murder.Ithadto be him.
Marcus got to his feet.“We’ll give you some time to think,” he told James.“Our offer stands.Help us connect this to Cox, and we make things as easy on you as we can.”
They left the interrogation room and joined Whitaker behind the two-way mirror.Whitaker was scowling, just as upset as they were that this wasn’t going their way.“Look, guys, we need something soon, or we’re gonna start catching heat.I’m not blaming you for that.It’s on us too.But if we don’t get anything more than some shitty social media posts and a fifteen-year-old picture of him with a murderer who’s currently icing his balls in solitary, then we’re gonna have to let him go after twenty-four hours.”
Kate ran her hands through her hair.“It’s got to be him.It all fits.It’s like Cinderella’s slipper.Connection to Cox, connection to the commandments, connection to the victims…”
“Not really connection to the victims,” Marcus said.“That’s tangential.”
“And that’s the part that the DA is going to bring up when he tells us to pull our heads out our asses and clean the shit from out our nose,” Whitaker added eloquently.
Kate kept her hands on top of her head and shook it.“It justhasto be him.It can’t fit this perfectly andnotbe the truth.”
Whitaker glanced at Marcus.He sighed and looked at Kate with the patient, sympathizing look that she knew meant only one thing.“I’mnotobsessing, Marcus.Look at the evidence.How can itnotbe him?”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Marcus said.“Only that we have to be realistic.Whitaker’s right, and you know he is.That picture of Cox and the crap he’s posted online all look good, but without hard evidence, it’s not enough.People wrote love letters to Ted Bundy, and every Reddit thread about politics has people advocating for vigilante murder, but it’s not enough to throw them in jail.”
“There’s also the fact that the guy’s what?Six-three?”Whitaker added.“I thought the killer’s supposed to be short.”
“He could have dropped to his knees to deliver the blow,” Kate said.
“Okay, but westilldon’t have hard evidence.Be honest, Kate.Would you go to trial with this?”
Kate frowned.Her breakthrough was breaking apart right in front of her.Marcus was right about the evidence, and beyond that, James no longer seemed to fit the profile as well as he had when they first spoke with him.He had all the signs of a disciple of Cox’s, but once her was in custody, those signs evaporated, and he became nothing more than a scared man in over his head.
Could that really be all he was?Was the picture of Cox really just coincidence?But if it was, then where was their killer?Was it Hartwell after all?What was Kate missing?
The door opened, and a pale-faced cop poked his fact into the room.“Sam,” he said to Detective Whitaker.“It’s Captain Dennison.”
Whitaker’s mouth dropped open.“Denny?Was it…”
The officer nodded.“Same MO.”
Whitaker heaved a sigh and dropped his chin to his chest.“Oh, Christ.”
“What?”Marcus asked.“What happened?”
“Retired police captain just got done,” Whitaker said.“Same MO as Hammond and Santos.”
The world shifted.Kate’s throat thickened, and it took two tries for her to ask, “When?”
Whitaker looked at the reporting officer.He shook his head.“I don’t know.Laura just called it in.Says the blood hasn’t dried yet, so it can’t be more than a few hours ago.”
Marcus’s head dropped.The world tilted again, and Kate had to spread her legs to keep from falling over.
It wasn’t Whitmore.The picture of Cox, the references to the commandments, the violent past, the gloating over the victims: none of it mattered.Kate had been utterly convinced of an utter untruth.
And while she was pursuing the wrong lead, another person had been murdered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The tray whirred into Cox’s cell.
