Gladly, she thought.
She turned back to the interrogation room, glad to be out of Nelson’s sight. When she closed the door behind her, Hooks looked up to her with hope in those dark brown eyes.
“You’re free to go.”
He nodded appreciatively, breathed deeply, and said: “Thank you.”
“Do you mind if I ask you one more question before you go?” she asked.
“That would be fine.”
“Why would God designate cities for sinners to escape to? Isn’t it sort of God’s job to punish sinners?”
“That’s up for debate. My own belief is that God wanted to see his children succeed. He wanted to allow them the chance to get right with him.”
“And these sinners believed they could find God in these cities? They thought they could find favor with him there?”
“In a way, yes. But they also knew that God is at the center of all things. It was just up to them to seek Him. And these cities were the designated places for them to do that.”
Mackenzie chewed this over as she headed for the door. She walked Hooks through the motions of checking out but her mind was elsewhere. She thought about six cities located in a circle and how a sometimes wrathful but ultimately forgiving God oversaw it all.
How had Hooks put it?
But they also knew that God is at the center of all things.
Suddenly, Mackenzie felt as if a filter had been removed from her mind’s eye. With that single comment floating in her head, the connection she had nearly made in the interrogation room snapped into place.
Five minutes later, she was speeding back home, letting that single thought wash over every corner of her mind.
God is at the center of all things.
The clock on her dashboard read 8:46, but Mackenzie knew her night was just getting started.
Because, if she was correct, she knew how to find where the killer lived.
CHAPTER THIRTY
As soon as she returned home, Mackenzie immediately went to the couch and hurried to the clutter of paperwork she had left on the coffee table. It was ironic in a way; she’d thought the house would be tidier after Zack had left, but instead, her work clutter had replaced his mess. For just a moment, she wondered where he was and what he was doing. But the thought lasted only a handful of seconds. It was replaced by the thought that had escorted her home, still whirling through her head like a stray breeze across a desert floor.
God is at the center of all things.
She scoured through the papers on the table and came to the two maps – the Old Testament Cities of Refuge map and the local one showing the area within one hundred miles. She overlaid them against one another and looked at them contemplatively. She then focused on the local map and stared at the Xs she had placed there with a black Sharpie, tracing them with her finger. She then encompassed the Xs, connecting them all with a line and drawing the implied circle that the locations made.
With the circle drawn, she turned her attention to the inside of the circle. Grabbing the nearest pen, she traced a faint line from each of the six “cities” like spokes on a wheel from the edges of the circle.
God is at the center of all things.
The lines all met in the center of the circle. She drew another, much smaller circle where all of the lines connected. It encompassed a section of the downtown district not too far away from where they had apprehended Clive Traylor a few days ago. Along the very edge of this new smaller circle she saw the squiggly line that indicated a river – in this case, Danvers River, the little waterway that etched its way through a park downtown, along the backside of several rundown downtown properties and then eventually emptied out into Sapphire Lake.
It was hard to tell from the map, but she was pretty sure her new circle included two or three different streets and a small cluster of forest that separated the western downtown region from the edge of Sapphire Lake.
This was the center of the killings – the central point that existed between the killer’s sites, so-called cities. If this man felt that he was, in a way, God, or working under the guidance of God, then he probably thought he existed in the center of it all. And if God was at the center of all things, this central point was very likely his home.
She simply sat there for a moment, a familiar twinge of excitement starting to bloom in her heart. She knew she had a decision to make and that it could very well decide the outcome of her career. She could call Nelson and give him this bit of information, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t take her call. And even if he took her seriously, she feared that the idea would be placed on the back burner.
The site they had discovered with the pole already in place meant that the killer had been on the verge of striking again. What if he already had a woman ready for his next sacrifice? And what if he had to think outside of the box since his other three murder sites were under surveillance?
To hell with it, she thought.
Mackenzie jumped to her feet, brushing much of the paperwork off of the table in her hurry and excitement. She went into the bedroom to retrieve her service pistol and as she holstered it to her belt, her cell phone rang. The sudden and unexpected sound of it made her jump slightly and she had to take a moment to calm her nerves before answering it. Looking at the display, she saw that it was Ellington again.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Oh wow,” Ellington said. “I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I was just going to leave a message letting you know I was turning in for the night and for you to call me tomorrow with news on the arrest. Are you not there yet?”
“Oh, I’ve gone and already come back. It wasn’t the killer.”
He paused.
“And you found that out in less than half an hour?”
“Yes. It was obvious. Nelson and his men, they, well, they weren’t exactly on top of things.”
“Too eager to make an arrest?”
“Something like that,” she said as she finished holstering the gun.
“You okay?” Ellington asked. “You sound really rushed.”
She almost didn’t tell him – she almost kept her new theory quiet. If she turned out to be wrong on this, it could turn out very badly – especially if someone knew what she was up to beforehand. Yet, on the other hand, she felt that she was not wrong; she felt it in her heart, her gut, her bones. And if she was missing something or jumping to conclusion, Ellington was the most logical person she knew.
“White?”
“I think I figured something out,” Mackenzie said. “About the killer. About where he lives.”
“What?” He sounded shocked. “How’s that?”
She quickly told him about her conversation with Pastor Hooks and how she had located the center of things with the map. As she spoke it out loud, she became ever more convinced that this was it. This was finally the right path that would lead them to the killer.
When she was done, there was silence on the line for a moment. She braced herself, expecting the usual criticism she always received.
“You think it’s flawed?” she asked.
“No. Not at all. I think it’s genius.”
She was surprised herself, and felt motivated.
“What did Nelson say?” he asked.
“I haven’t called him. I’m not going to.”
“You have to,” he urged.
“No I don’t. He doesn’t want me on the case. And after the exchange we had at the station, I doubt he’d even take my call.”
“Well then let me shoot the lead to the State guys.”
“Too risky,” she said. “If it turns out to be a dead end, who does the blame come back to? You? Me? Either scenario would not be good.”
“That’s true,” Ellington said. “But what if it’s not a dead end? What if you apprehend the killer? You’ll have to call Nelson anyway.”