Marcus laid a heavy paw on Whitaker’s shoulder and said without a trace of threat, “Let my partner do her job, and let’s go check out the scene.”
Whitaker gave Laura a hard look, and Kate made sure the woman saw her give Whitaker an equally hard one right back.In the end, it was Laura’s anguish that broke the detective, not Kate’s pressure or Marcus’s coaxing.He sighed and lowered his eyes.“Yeah, let’s do that.Sorry.Denny was a mentor of mine.I’m just not in a good mindset right now.I might have to give someone else this case.”
“I can look at the scene myself if you want,” Marcus said.“You don’t have to be here.We’ve got this.”
Kate noted genuine sympathy in her partner’s voice.She glanced at him and saw more grief than the scene called for.More personal grief.Maybe he’d lost mentors too and understood what Whitaker was going through.
Whitaker nodded.“Yeah.Okay.Sorry, guys.”
A few of the uniforms murmured sympathies.The glances Kate received were still cold, but Marcus got a few nods of respect as he entered the house.
Kate turned back to Laura.She was calmer now, still sniffling but with the edges of her grief dulled somewhat.
That would ebb and flow for a while.There would be periods of debilitating pain that would manifest with physical symptoms at their harshest.This would be followed by long stretches of hazy confusion, in turn interrupted by moments of manic activity.For Kate, this had been investigation into her father’s murder, misguided and ultimately fruitless, but energetic.For Laura, this might be deep cleaning her house or going on a long jog or an intense workout session.It was the mind’s way of coping with the unacceptable.
“Internal Affairs determined that Dad had reason to believe that Friar was armed.He was reaching into his pocket, and he was ignoring Dad’s instructions.They suspended him with pay for the duration of a mandatory psychological evaluation which concluded that he was fit to return to service.The DA’s office declined to press charges.”
Her response had the air of a recitation.Kate wondered how many times she’d repeated these words to herself over the years, each time her eyes drifted to the corners and wondered what crawling things lurked in those shadows.
“Did others feel differently?”
Laura scoffed.“Of course they did.He was a cop.Everyone wants to believe that cops are killers.”
The uniforms gathered on the porch muttered agreement.
“Did anything come of that?”Kate asked.
Larua took a deep breath and released it in a shaky sigh.Her eyes were glazing over as she settled into the first trough of depression that would follow her for months if not years.“His family sued.Dad settled out of court for twelve thousand, I think, enough to cover his burial fees.”
“And were they satisfied with that?”
“Of course not.Their loved one was dead.It didn’t matter who was at fault.They just wanted someone to go down for it.”
Kate made a mental note to check up on Steven Friar’s family.She only had one more question for Laura.“You said Friar was reaching into his pocket.Was he reaching for anything in particular?”
One of the uniforms shifted his feet and pressed his lips together.He kept his eyes firmly on the ground, but the tension in his body told Kate he knew the answer.
Laura took another breath and deflated as she released it.In a soft voice, barely audible, she replied, “An inhaler.”
Kate nodded.“All right.Thank you, Laura.I’m sorry for your loss.”
She joined Marcus inside while the uniforms led Laura away.A few more cops were inside, staring around at the stained clothes, empty takeout boxes, and half-crushed beer cans littering the home.Their pained expressions spoke volumes.No doubt they had all remembered Dennison as a great leader.Seeing him reduced to this state and knowing how he ended was a hard thing to come to terms with.
The scene was much the same as the others except that Dennison sat at the table.To reach him, the killer would have had to either move him after they killed him or come up behind him and reached around to stab him.
Marcus confirmed it was the latter.“Angle of the wound is different.Missed the heart, it looks like, but considering the blood loss, I’d say the knife probably tore up every artery within an inch of it.He would have died almost as fast as the others.”
Kate glanced at the wispy gray hair and the expansive bald spot facing directly up into the dim light of a nearly burnt-out halogen bulb.Of all their victims so far, Carl Dennison looked the most harmless.Maybe he’d once been a scion of the law, but now he was just an old man, tired and grieving his wife.Six more months probably would have accomplished what the killer had done that afternoon.
Her eyes fell to the table.Another inscription was there, shorter than the others.The characters were more wavery too and nicks were scattered among the letters where the killer’s knife had skipped.
The killer was nearing the end of their task.The culmination was approaching, and either zeal or fear or some combination of both had unsteadied their hand.
Kate felt a disturbing tug.In the past, these culminations had been connected to her somehow, either spiritually or tangibly.Thus far, there had been no obvious connection to her life, no hints, no breadcrumbs from Cox to lead her to some revelation about her past.That should have been a relief, but instead it worried her.Either she was missing something obvious, or this really wasn’t a Lawgiver case, and the killer’s obsession with commandments was incidental.Or Cox’s poison had spread far enough that others would carry on his mission even without his leadership.
None of those options were good.And all Kate could do was follow the evidence where it led and hope that nothing fell by the wayside that she needed in order to solve this case.
As she took pictures of the cipher, Marcus said, “We should use Hartwell’s and Whitmore’s research to find other possible victims and warn them.Maybe offer police protection, but that’s going to be up to PD, and I don’t know how excited they’re gonna be about protecting acquitted killers.”
