Page 54 of Go Under

Kate sat in her living room, reading the letters found at Nora Avery’s apartment. Nora—now using the name Sharon Amelie—lived in an apartment in Rittenhouse Square only a few buildings down the street from where Iris Doyle lived when she called the police on Nora’s brother.

Nora had moved into that apartment in October, shortly after Elijah Cox’s escape from prison. The first letter she received predated that escape by a week. In it, Cox expressed his sympathy for Nora and encouraged her—in the flowery, manipulative language that was Cox’s specialty—to view her suffering not as evil but as an opportunity for good, a chance to proclaim God’s glory.

Kate wondered how much time Nora passed by the café that now stood where thirty-five years ago a jewelry store had been robbed by three young men, at least one of whom never meant to harm anyone but had fallen in with the wrong crowd, realizing too late that they were far more evil than he was prepared to be.

Did it bother her to see that café there, to know that every trace of her brother had been scrubbed from the city that had condemned him? Did she replay his last free moments in her head, the horror he must have felt seeing an innocent man killed in front of him, the fear when his “friends” shoved the gun in his hand and told him to run that way while they went this way, the grief when he realized they had abandoned him and left him to suffer the fate that should have awaited one or both of them?

Kate would. Kate would think of little else but the unfairness of it all, the injustice of an innocent man who lost his life because of misplaced accusations. Those losses left scars, and those scars never fully healed.

She read on.

The letters from Cox remained vague at first, not explicitly commanding Nora to seek revenge. They quoted verses, stories of how God used others as tools for vengeance. He exhorted Nora to “be strong and of good courage” like Joshua, and promised that her enemies would fall before her if she trusted in God to deliver them into her hands.

Encouraging her, exhorting her, manipulating her. Painting a picture of the most satisfying end Nora could imagine: her standing triumphant over her brother’s accusers, punishing them for taking him from her and ruining her own life in the process.

At some point, Nora must have responded positively to those exhortations. In December, shortly before Kate’s last encounter with Cox, their tone had changed. Cox specifically referred to himself as the Lawgiver and stated his calling to correct the world for violating God’s commandments. He told Nova how others had taken up the call with him, and shared that God had called her to enforce His Ninth Commandment.

“Surely you see, my dear Nora, that you are the perfect instrument to reflect His will in this matter. You have suffered from those who bear false witness. You know the damage that evil can do. Will you not accept God’s call and take this chance to make things right?”

And of course, Nora had. She had leaped at that chance, as evidenced by Cox’s next letter.

“I am not surprised to learn of your eagerness, my dear Nora. You are a true servant of God, no Gideon who doubts her place in God’s plan or doubts that He can fulfill it through her. Your courage is strong, like Joshua’s. Like Jael’s who in God’s name bore a spike and thrust it through the profane king Sisera.”

That explained the choice of an awl as a weapon. Though Nora had stabbed her victims through the heart, not the temple, so maybe that was only coincidence.

What was definitely not coincidence was the closing statement of this letter. “Leave Kate Valentine a message for me. Embed it in your cipher. Show her the way. God’s will must be done, and she is the key.”

Kate took a deep breath. The faint smell of cinnamon and rose filled her nostrils, rose from the shampoo she’d used an hour ago and cinnamon from the potpourri that now sat on her coffee table. Marcus had chosen it, a surprisingly feminine touch coming from the gruff ex-SEAL.

She released her breath and lifted the last letter. She stiffened when she saw the date, and a stab of pain rippled through her ribs. She winced and took another breath to calm herself, though not as deep as the first since she feared straining her ribs. Her doctor was not happy to see that she’d reinjured herself and warned that another strain like that could result in permanent disability or at the very least, major surgery to replace the damaged ribs.

She waited until her heart calmed, then looked at the date again.

January 3rd. Three weeks ago. About two weeks after their encounter at St. Anselm’s.

The handwriting was different, rougher and heavier, but the style was Cox’s. Kate guessed that he’d dictated the message to someone, too injured to write it himself. That injury could also explain the shift in tone. He didn’t speak to Nora as the Lawgiver, not with authority or instruction. If anything, he seemed afraid, even guilty. Like he was reaching out to her for encouragement and help himself.

“I have seen false witness damage lives myself. I have seen an innocent man suffer for the crimes of another. I could have spoken. I could have revealed the truth that would have put the right man in prison and spared the innocent.

“But I didn’t. I didn’t. God help me.

“I had to. It was revealed to me in a dream that the other was necessary for my plan, for God’s plan. I needed him. The world must be corrected, and God showed me exactly how to do it. Had I not stayed silent, I could have lost that tool.

“Kate doesn’t know yet. I’ll tell her, I think, but not yet. I need to make sure the plan is finished. She must play her part. God knows she must play her part.

“It must be part of His plan. Surely, He would not place a stumbling block in front of me. And I didn’t bear false witness; I simply declined to bear true witness. Is that a violation of His commandment? Will I suffer for this?

“Of course I will. Who am I to negotiate with God? I will lead his people to the promised land, but like Moses, I will not enter.

“But he was the key. The key that would lead me to the TRUE key, the scapegoat, my beautiful, perfect lamb, my Kate.

“My fate is intertwined with hers. We will fulfill God’s plan together. We will die together. But only one of us will deserve the eternity to which we are sent.

May God have mercy on my soul.”

Kate stared at the letter, hardly daring to breathe. Cox had survived. Hurt badly, perhaps delirious when he dictated this note, but alive, nonetheless.

That was alarming but not surprising. The surprise was written on this final missive to his Ninth Commandment Killer.