Page 89 of The Devil's Advocate

‘It could have lettering above the stars ; I mean, I think there’s something there but I just can’t make it out,’ I said.

Kate took the phone from me, adjusted the angle, said, ‘We’re going to need a better picture. Let me see the photos you got from Farnesworth.’

‘I haven’t seen those yet,’ said Bloch.

Kate nodded at her, said she would let her see them in a moment. For now, Kate held Farnesworth’s autopsy photos, and her phone, side by side.

‘I can’t tell,’ said Kate.

‘Let me take a look,’ said Bloch.

Bloch first examined the picture of Hogg’s ring, then the autopsy photos. Soon as she looked at them, I saw the skin tightening on her forehead.

‘What is it?’ I said.

‘You got it wrong, Eddie,’ said Bloch. ‘The lettering indentations on Skylar Edward’s forehead are not “F” and “C”. The “C” is only a partial indentation. The letters are “F” “O” and “P” above the star.’

Kate’s mouth fell open.

‘How do you know that?’ I asked.

‘Because now I know the exact ring that the killer wore. We all got it wrong. The five-pointed star has nothing to do with the occult. The star symbolizes law enforcement. The star is a shield. The FOP don’t use membership cards. Instead, their members wear rings.’

‘What is FOP?’ asked Kate.

‘It’s the Fraternal Order of Police,’ I said. ‘A lobbying group and membership organization that represents police officers across the country. The man who killed Skylar Edwards is a cop.’

‘Or used to be a cop,’ said Bloch. ‘And it gives us a different problem. The ring is not unique. There could be thousands in circulation.’

No one said anything. We had been hoping the ring would lead us to the killer. But now it only gave us suspects. Lots of them. No one spoke as we took it all in. The silence was quickly filled by the hurried, anxious voice of the dispatcher on Bloch’s police scanner.

‘All available units, assistance required at a probable suicide …’

Bloch nodded as she listened. This was the call coming in about Lomax. Bloch wanted to know how they were going to call it, and whether there would be any suspicion over the death.

‘… address is 491 Peachtree Avenue …’

Bloch’s eyebrows knotted together, she said, ‘That’s not Lomax’s address. It’s—’

‘Skylar Edwards’ address,’ said Kate.

Bloch was halfway out the door when I said, ‘Wait up. I’m coming too.’

For forty-five minutes Bloch and I watched Francis Edwards weeping in the back of a Sunville County Sheriff’s cruiser. The dispatcher had said the call was a probable suicide. It didn’t take much to surmise Francis’s wife had been the one to take her own life. There was a rotund man in a tweed jacket in the seat beside him, his hand around Francis’s shoulders, whispering to him in an attempt to calm him down. Francis was a big man, and the car shook with his sobbing.

The medical examiner was just leaving as a Jaguar pulled up outside the place. Korn got out of the car, approached the ME and they had a conversation on the front lawn.

‘That’s our cue,’ I said.

We got out of the SUV and approached Korn and the ME, Miss Price.

‘Mind if we take a look inside?’ I asked.

Korn turned his large frame toward me. Fine lines from little sleep at the corner of his eyes.

‘What do you want, Flynn?’ asked Korn. ‘This is a separate case. It has nothing to do with your client.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. Dubois didn’t kill Skylar Edwards. Someone else did. It’s suspicious her mother commits suicide on the eve of Dubois’ trial. Maybe Esther Edwards couldn’t deal with the guilt of killing her own daughter and then framing an innocent man,’ I said.