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“Two officers with the local PD.”
“Send me the address.”
“No.”
“Fine. Then send Whitmore or someone else who doesn’thave nearly as much experience with Samson as I do. And then worry and worryand fret and end up calling me in about six or seven hours anyway. I’m justtrying to save you some time.”
There was a pause on the other end, as Mueller wasclearly not accustomed to taking orders like this from agents. But in the end,he didn’t argue.
“I’ll text it the moment we get off the phone. But Cross…ifthis is indeed the seventh sign and he’s considering this thing done…”
Morgan didn’t even think twice about ending the call. Shedidn’t want to hear his theories or assumptions about how Samson might go intohiding now that it was done. No…he’d waited for her to come out of prison beforehe finished his work. For some reason, he saw them as connected…that he couldnot finish his work without her in pursuit of him.
And if the bastard truly wanted to be chased even nowthat his work was done, she was more than happy to oblige.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Subtle,” Morgan said as she sped the car down DuttonRoad.
It was a road just on the outskirts of the city, anavenue that led onto two of the city’s main thoroughfares from both thesouthern and northern routes. There was very little on the road, so as sheturned onto it, Samson’s intent became clear.
The second building on Dutton Road was quite large andstuck out easily. It was Seabry Funeral Home, a long one-story building thatlooked like most funeral homes—both serene and kind of creepy at the same time.She took the place in as she passed by, unable to shake the almost iconicsignificance of it as she traveled to the site of the eleventh murder.
It was less than half a mile away, a bit further downDutton Road. The two-story home sat a good distance off the road, separatedfrom the road by a lush, well-maintained yard. It was the home of LeonardSeabry, owner and director of Seabry Funeral Home.
He was apparently the victim that signified the seventh sign.Though Morgan wasn’t religious, she’d studied this case so much that she couldrecite the passages of scripture that covered the seven signs. The seventh signwas the raising of Lazarus, where Jesus had resurrected a dead man.
The connection was almost cheesy…killing a funeral homedirector in an attempt to correlate with the raising of the dead. It made herwonder if this had been Samson’s plan all along or if he was in a hurry nowbecause of this morning and had struck at the first thing he thought seemedlike it might fit the theological echoes of the seventh sign.
She pulled into the paved driveway and parked behind oneof the two police cars that were already there. She made her way to the frontporch, feeling a bit of new worry creep in. What if the killer did indeeddisappear after this eleventh murder? How much harder would it be to find thebastard? And would he stop there or find some other reason to kill?
She had no idea. All she knew was that there was a deadman just beyond the front door and his body may be able to lead her to Samson.With her heart tightening in her chest, Morgan opened the door and steppedinside where three police officers were already on the scene.
The living room was spacious, with vaulted ceilings thatgave the room an airy feel despite the weight of the situation. But the joy ofthe space was quickly overshadowed by the presence of the dead body. Morgan’seyes quickly scanned the room, taking everything in—the positioning of thebody, the surrounding furniture, the doorways, the windows, the three cops.
As she made her way toward the body, the metallic scentof blood filled her nostrils. Leonard Seabry lay on the floor, his eyes stillopen in a frozen gaze. His throat had been slashed and his eyes stared blanklyat the ceiling. Blood pooled around the wound on his chest where the killer hadstruck.
Morgan felt a deep anger bubble up inside of her. Thiswas the eleventh victim, and yet they still had no real leads or suspects. Sheknelt down beside the body, carefully studying the wound. It looked like it hadbeen made with a sharp, pointed object. It had been hurried and violent. Therewas no set-up or dramatic effect like with the others.
Yeah, Morgan thought. He’s scared now. He was in a hurryto get this done. He knows I’m close.
“Have you checked the place over yet?” Morgan asked thecops without looking back at them.
“Yeah,” one of the officers said. “Everything looked normaluntil we got to his office.”
“Are forensics and the coroner on the way?”
“Yeah.”
The man sounded almost annoyed that she was there. Sheknew she had a bit of a reputation, even outside of having spent a decade injail. Morgan couldn’t help but wonder if this officer speaking to her knew thatshe’d just gotten out. And if so, maybe he held a negative opinion of her.Maybe he was among those who assumed she’d been guilty of murder from the verystart.
She really didn’t care. She stood up, moved away from thebody, and made her way out of the living room. She didn’t want to give the copthe satisfaction of asking him where the office was, so she explored the houseon her own as she looked for it.
Eventually, she found her way to the office, a smallerroom off of the main hall near the stairs. There was a desk and some filingcabinets against one wall, and the walls were lined with framed awards andphotographs of the funeral home. The room itself was clean and mostlyorganized, but it lacked life. It was clear that Seabry hadn’t spent much timein this room.
But as soon as she stepped inside, she saw the odditythat the officers had mentioned. There were several pieces of paper stuck tothe ceiling. Morgan looked up, doing her best to make sense of it. When shetilted her head up, a little flare of pain shot through the shoulder she’d hurtin the mine just two and a half hours ago.
Because she had to look at the papers upside down, it tookher a moment to understand what she was seeing. Finally, though, she understood.And it chilled her.
