Kate groaned.“That’s… quite a pivot.”
“Isn’t it?He’s had the tattoos done and everything.Zero interest in Cox these days.Cox is so last season.”
“Okay… and the others?”
“Ah.Julius Kelly, released on parole, gone back to the arms of his Baptist church.Victor Flett.Another Cox recruit.”Poppy paused.“Got early release for good behaviour.And—brace yourself—promptly flattened by a bus.”
Kate blinked.“Flattened?”
“Splat.Like a theological pancake.So either God’s not on Cox’s team or He’s got a sick sense of humor.”
Kate exhaled slowly.“Right.So the disciples aren’t exactly thriving.”
“Correct.”More papers shuffled.“Moving on to the bottom-feeder fan-sites.A lot of chatter—predictably—about when and whether there’ll be a spree honoring the Fifth Commandment.People speculating wildly.Some of it very creative.Very stupid.One person thinks the killings will happen in cycles of seven because of ‘biblical geometry’.Hard to see how you can make multiple sevens out of ten, but hey.”
Kate pinched the bridge of her nose.“Has any of them linked it to Jennifer Hayes yet?”
“No.If they’ve caught any news, they haven’t made the Decalogue connection.They’re mostly too busy arguing about whether Cox is the Messiah or just a serial killer with religious accessories.”
Kate felt something tighten inside her.“Accessories.”
“My words, not theirs,” Poppy said dryly.“And here’s the promising bit—there’s a definite sense he’s over.Emphasis onwas.People are losing interest.They think his reign is done now he’s buried in supermax.”
“That’s good,” Kate said.“Very good.But it’s going to flare back up the second people realize there’s an active Fifth Commandment killer out here.”
“Yes,” Poppy agreed, “hence my ongoing monitoring of this clown circus.”
Kate tapped her pen against the desk.“What about the elder-abandonment material?”
“Oh.Joy.Yes.”Poppy’s voice softened, unexpectedly.“There’s a lot.A lot of very sad stories.So many perspectives.Some angry, some grieving.Some just lost.”
“No obvious suspects?”
“I’ve flagged a few users posting extreme rhetoric,” Poppy said.“But no major red flags yet.Nothing that jumps out as ritualistic or Cox-adjacent.I’ll keep digging.”
“Poppy,” Kate said gently, “this is really good work.Thank you.But I need you to look at another angle.Sorry.”
“Well,” Poppy eventually said, “I guesssomeonehas to do it, seeing asyouare off in Boston with superior pastries and harbor views.”
“I don’t know where you got that idea,” Kate replied.“This office is a cupboard with delusions of grandeur.”
Before Poppy could reply, Kate’s phone chimed with a second incoming call.
GABE LEVINE
Kate’s spine straightened.“Poppy, I’m really sorry—Gabe’s calling.I need to take this.”
“Oh, sure, abandon me again—”
“I’ll send you an email in a few minutes with a couple of extra steers.”
She hung up.Blushed.A couple of extra steers?She was about to double Poppy’s workload all over again.But if anyone could handle it…
She drew a breath and answered Gabe's call.
*
New York accents travelled.You could be four states away, minding your own business, and suddenly someone would drop a“Benny Hawnst”that transported you straight back to a Brooklyn stoop.
