interest might react if his name was in the paper. I think he might slip up. I think it might help the investigation."
Catherine sighed. She felt like she was being manipulated. But still . . . "Let me have it."
"The Reverend Harold Pryor," said Jamarcus. "He was questioned yesterday. He has no solid alibi. He was in the D.C. area when Sherita Johnson was attacked. He was in the Hampton Roads area when the Carver kids were taken."
Catherine stopped walking when she reached the concrete boardwalk. She leaned against the railing. "Interesting. But there must be a thousand men and women who meet those criteria. What else do you have?"
"Dead man's talk?" asked Webb.
"If I haven't proven myself by now--" Cat felt a rant coming on, but Webb cut her off.
"Sorry; you're right." He took a deep breath. "The Avenger is sending messages with biblical quotes. Old Testament. Somebody who claims to be a member of Harold Pryor's church sent us an unsigned note that quoted these same verses. Said the reverend has been referring to them a lot recently."
Cat felt her stomach drop. She pressed her ear against the phone. The morning breeze made it difficult to hear. "Did you say biblical quotes? Old Testament?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Cat leaned hard against the railing. She brought her fist to her mouth--confused, frightened.
"Catherine?" Webb said.
The visions flashed in front of her eyes. Biblical quotes. The sins of the fathers will be visited unto the third and fourth generation.
"Catherine?"
She tried to get hold of herself. "What were the exact quotes?"
"I can't say, Catherine."
Her voice became sharp, insistent. "I need to know, Jamarcus. What were the exact quotes? "
"Catherine, I'm trying to help. But I'm not willing to jeopardize this investigation."
"He will visit the sins of the fathers unto the third and fourth generation," Catherine said. "The offspring of evildoers will never be remembered. Prepare a place of slaughter for the sons because of the iniquities of their fathers."
There was silence on the line. Catherine had known Jamarcus Webb for a number of years. She had never seen or heard him flustered. She had never known him to be at a loss for words.
"Who told you this?" he asked.
"If I said, you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
Catherine stared out over the ocean. Once she told him, there would be no turning back. "I saw it in a vision. Actually, two visions."
Another period of uncomfortable silence followed. "I think we need to meet," Jamarcus said.
22
Catherine thought Jamarcus was being overly paranoid, but she still followed his instructions to a T. She drove into downtown Norfolk to get beyond the jurisdiction of the Virginia Beach police. At the last possible moment, she jumped aboard the Norfolk-Portsmouth ferry and made sure that nobody got on after she did. Then she called Jamarcus and told him she was not being followed.
He picked her up on the Portsmouth side of the river in his white Ford Taurus. For a fleeting moment she considered the possibility that Jamarcus might be the Avenger. From what she could tell, the killer had some sort of law enforcement experience--who else could commit such crimes without leaving even a trace of DNA or hair or fiber samples? And what did she really know about Jamarcus? A nice guy. A good cop from all reports. A family man. But she didn't really know him.
It dawned on her that he could snuff her out today and nobody would even know she had been meeting with him.
"Excuse me a second," Catherine said. She dialed her editor on her cell phone. "I'm meeting with my source," Catherine explained. "And I won't be able to get you those journal entries until later this afternoon."
"That wasn't smart," Jamarcus said sternly after Catherine hung up.
"Sorry," she said. She tried to put her suspicions aside and focus on her story. After all, if Jamarcus really wanted to kill her, wouldn't he have asked her to meet him at night?
They drove around Portsmouth, Jamarcus checking
Catherine sighed. She felt like she was being manipulated. But still . . . "Let me have it."
"The Reverend Harold Pryor," said Jamarcus. "He was questioned yesterday. He has no solid alibi. He was in the D.C. area when Sherita Johnson was attacked. He was in the Hampton Roads area when the Carver kids were taken."
Catherine stopped walking when she reached the concrete boardwalk. She leaned against the railing. "Interesting. But there must be a thousand men and women who meet those criteria. What else do you have?"
"Dead man's talk?" asked Webb.
"If I haven't proven myself by now--" Cat felt a rant coming on, but Webb cut her off.
"Sorry; you're right." He took a deep breath. "The Avenger is sending messages with biblical quotes. Old Testament. Somebody who claims to be a member of Harold Pryor's church sent us an unsigned note that quoted these same verses. Said the reverend has been referring to them a lot recently."
Cat felt her stomach drop. She pressed her ear against the phone. The morning breeze made it difficult to hear. "Did you say biblical quotes? Old Testament?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Cat leaned hard against the railing. She brought her fist to her mouth--confused, frightened.
"Catherine?" Webb said.
The visions flashed in front of her eyes. Biblical quotes. The sins of the fathers will be visited unto the third and fourth generation.
"Catherine?"
She tried to get hold of herself. "What were the exact quotes?"
"I can't say, Catherine."
Her voice became sharp, insistent. "I need to know, Jamarcus. What were the exact quotes? "
"Catherine, I'm trying to help. But I'm not willing to jeopardize this investigation."
"He will visit the sins of the fathers unto the third and fourth generation," Catherine said. "The offspring of evildoers will never be remembered. Prepare a place of slaughter for the sons because of the iniquities of their fathers."
There was silence on the line. Catherine had known Jamarcus Webb for a number of years. She had never seen or heard him flustered. She had never known him to be at a loss for words.
"Who told you this?" he asked.
"If I said, you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
Catherine stared out over the ocean. Once she told him, there would be no turning back. "I saw it in a vision. Actually, two visions."
Another period of uncomfortable silence followed. "I think we need to meet," Jamarcus said.
22
Catherine thought Jamarcus was being overly paranoid, but she still followed his instructions to a T. She drove into downtown Norfolk to get beyond the jurisdiction of the Virginia Beach police. At the last possible moment, she jumped aboard the Norfolk-Portsmouth ferry and made sure that nobody got on after she did. Then she called Jamarcus and told him she was not being followed.
He picked her up on the Portsmouth side of the river in his white Ford Taurus. For a fleeting moment she considered the possibility that Jamarcus might be the Avenger. From what she could tell, the killer had some sort of law enforcement experience--who else could commit such crimes without leaving even a trace of DNA or hair or fiber samples? And what did she really know about Jamarcus? A nice guy. A good cop from all reports. A family man. But she didn't really know him.
It dawned on her that he could snuff her out today and nobody would even know she had been meeting with him.
"Excuse me a second," Catherine said. She dialed her editor on her cell phone. "I'm meeting with my source," Catherine explained. "And I won't be able to get you those journal entries until later this afternoon."
"That wasn't smart," Jamarcus said sternly after Catherine hung up.
"Sorry," she said. She tried to put her suspicions aside and focus on her story. After all, if Jamarcus really wanted to kill her, wouldn't he have asked her to meet him at night?
They drove around Portsmouth, Jamarcus checking
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