“The Book of Revelation. It’s about the Apocalypse. Look at the aconite. All the victims were given aconite. We agreed that they were being sacrificed, right? He was giving them the aconite to purify them, to allow them passage into the next world in preparation for his apocalypse. Follow?”
Fitz’s cell phone rang, and she asked Baldwin to hold on a minute while he answered so she could hear the news. “Fitz here...Hey, Sam...Really?...Okay, I’ll tell her...Yeah, we will.” He hung up the phone and picked up the police radio.
“What did she say?”
“That the DNA isn’t back, but they’ve matched the blood type from Lucas’s tissue sample to the semen from Shelby. It’s gotta be him, Taylor. It’s gotta be Lucas.”
As she relayed the information to Baldwin, Fitz called in on the radio. He squelched the button. “Gentlemen? We have a positive ID, repeat, positive match.”
Voices filtered back through the static, excited 10-4s riding the airways.
Taylor went back to her cell phone. “Okay, Baldwin, we’re still about five minutes out. I follow you so far. Finish your explanation.”
“Okay. The pregnancies are the key. He’s been date-raping Shelby, trying to get her pregnant against her will. She threatens to go to the police. He doesn’t want to kill her, but he can’t be found out, so he gives her aconite and a symbolic burial, one full of love. He thought Jordan was pregnant with his child, but she tells him it’s not his, and he kills her in a fit of rage. Jill is pregnant, and he’s probably just trying to get her somewhere safe so nothing will happen to this child. He wants this baby, Taylor.”
“So where do Mary Margaret and Mona Lisa figure into this? And why kill the priest?”
“The Seven Seals. The Apocalypse. The end of time. When a Messiah will come again and lead those worthy to the kingdom of heaven? The killings are representative of the seals. He’s creating his own version of the Apocalypse. Maybe he got the idea from the lecture Father Xavier gave at the community breakfast. Maybe it had been brewing in his head all along.”
She could hear paper rustling in the background.
“I realize this isn’t perfect, and as far as I can tell he didn’t go through all of the Seven Seals, but this makes sense to me. If he’s trying to create a messiah, doesn’t there have to be an end of the world?”
Taylor gave him an exasperated laugh. “Baldwin, it’s been a long time since I went to Bible study.”
“Me, too, so this may be all wrong. But here goes. Shelby Kincaid was killed at the Parthenon, the figurative lap of Rome. She represents the whore of Babylon, the fall of the seven hills. She is poisoned and purified, ready for the Lamb of God. Jordan Blake was stabbed and thrown in the Cumberland, the blood from her stab wounds turning the rivers to blood. Mona Lisa was poisoned and thrown into Old Hickory Lake. She has AIDS; she poisons the water, and the seas die. Mary Margaret de Rossi gave her life over to the church and was purified by fire; she becomes the Last Martyr. Father Francis Xavier was a physical representation of heaven—by killing him, he silences heaven.”
Taylor was silent. This was quite a theory. Baldwin continued his explanation.
“The tornado was just an added bonus. I would say it represents the winds being unleashed from the four corners of the earth. He certainly didn’t have any control over it, but it fits nicely, don’t you think? It would affirm his path, a true sign from God.”
“I think you’re out of your ever-loving mind, is what I think. I know this guy is a nut, but why in the world would he go to such lengths to create an apocalypse?”
“Because he thinks he is creating our Messiah. He needs the Apocalypse to fulfill the ancient prophecies. He needs the Apocalypse to legitimize his son. He believes his unborn child is the Messiah.”
Taylor started slowing the car. They were getting close to the address, and in the heavy dusk it would be easy to shoot right past the driveway. Most were discreetly hidden in this part of town.
“So by creating life, and putting the proper sacrifices in order, he thinks he’s created all the steps of the Apocalypse, and his son will be the Messiah. He is one seriously screwed-up dude.”
“Yes, he is. And Apocalypse or not, right now, let’s worry about saving Jill Gates’s life. I hope to God she’s still alive. Marcus and I just pulled up to Granny White.”
“Roger that. Fitz and I are almost at the Hillsboro address. Be careful, okay?”
“Right. You be careful, too. Bye.”
Price’s disembodied voice crackled from the radio. “We’re at site three, and we have renters on the property. Repeat, this is a rental, and the checks go to site two. This site is clear. Copy?”
Fitz spoke into the radio. “Fourteen copies. Eighteen, what’s your twenty?”
Marcus logged in to the conversation. “Eighteen at site two. We’re about to go into the house now. We’ll be radio silent for a few minutes while we check this place out.”
“Copy that, eighteen. Fourteen out.” Fitz put the mic back on the hook. “Okay, sunshine, you ready to rock this?”
Taylor looked over at Fitz and gave him a smile. “Absolutely.”
72