Marcus pushed open the door to the temporary office, juggling two coffees and the sense that he’d aged ten years since leaving his motel bed this morning.He was ready for Kate to still be in full forensic-fury mode — pacing, muttering, stabbing crime-scene photos with a pen.
Instead he found her standing over the folding table, eyes crackling with a kind of fevered brightness he recognized of old.
“Oh boy,” he said.“That’s yourI found something and you’re not going to like itface.”
Kate didn’t look up.“Close.”
She turned the laptop toward him.
Marcus set the coffees down, leaned in, and made a low noise in his throat.“Well.That’s a headshot that says ‘I keep my victims in alphabetized folders.’”
The website was professionally cheap — serif fonts masquerading as gravitas, soft-focus stock photos of clasped hands, an off-white background that aspired to purity and landed somewhere near dental brochure.
At the top:
DR.NATHAN WEBB
Family Reconciliation Specialist
“Bringing Blood Back to Blood.”
“Poppy found him.God knows when that child sleeps.She was scraping for outliers.Forums.Fanatics.People who treat ‘parental duty’ like it’s a religion.Webb popped up three times in one hour.”
“Oh good,” Marcus muttered.“A repeat offender.”
“Literally.”She clicked to the next tab: a court record snapshot.“Two historic convictions for assault.And—”
“Let me guess,” Marcus said.“Couple of lawsuits so spicy the lawyers needed Kevlar?”
She nodded.“Two open civil suits.Both alleging he used ‘coercive physical intimidation’ trying to force adult children to reconcile with estranged parents.”
Marcus gave a low whistle.“So he’s a relationship therapist who beats people until they feel closer to their moms.”
“That’s the gist.”
She clicked again, this time to the blog.
Marcus leaned closer.“Oh hell.That font alone is a hate crime.”
The posts were long, dense, indignant.Paragraphs of biblical posturing mixed with strange pseudo-psychology.Phrases jumped out like claws:
“Loyalty to blood is the first covenant.”
“Unfilial behaviour is societal rot.”
“Neglect of elders should bear real consequences.”
“There must be penalties.”
Marcus exhaled slowly.“Okay.So.He’s angry, judgmental, and badly read.But lots of people are those things.Doesn’t make them murderers.”
Kate’s fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against the laptop casing.“Webb lives in South Boston.Easy reach of both victims.”
Marcus’s eyebrows lifted.“Well, that narrows the pool.”
“And he’s been posting more frequently,” Kate continued, “but with sharper language.More apocalyptic.More punitive.”She clicked one more time, showing a recent entry titled:
THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT IS NOT OPTIONAL.
