His forgotten room had gone untouched for the longest time. Dust and cobwebs lined the walls like peeling wallpaper, and there was a distinct smell that reminded him of the old man himself. It felt like there was still a part of him here, watching from between the boards, ready to appear like a phantom and reprimand him for his wrongdoings.
He’d never added up exactly how much money this collection was worth. Maybe a few thousand dollars, nothing really worth pursuing considering the amount of time that had gone into acquiring the collection. The coins sat in bags and jars, some in frames and some stacked high. There were too many to count, some from the Victorian era, some from faraway lands. But the best and most treasured ones were in the glass case.
No doubt the collection would bring great pleasure to an enthusiast of the hobby, but what he was doing was worth much more. You could put a price on gold-plated war memorial coin from 1950, but there was no price for vengeance. No price for taking back years of lost youth and innocence. Two down and plenty more to come.
Who would be next? There was no shortage of potential targets. It could be the old man from the bank who always made him feel stupid when he made deposits. It could be that bitch coin collector who was always tracking down those rare British pennies.
He circled the room, taking in the sights and auras. This room had been sealed for God knows how long. He’d even put filler in the door cracks so he couldn’t get in here if he tried.
But the past few months, something changed. The room called to him like a siren’s song, luring him back to the forbidden relics within. He wondered if he’d feel different when he saw the coins, or would he still harbor the same rage and fury he felt as a youngster?
Armed with a sledge hammer, he’d smashed down the door and walked in like a Viking ready to pillage. He’d forgotten just how many coins there were in here. In his head, there were only a hundred or so, but now he realized there were thousands upon thousands. It only then dawned on him just how long it had taken to acquire such a vast collection. A lost lifetime’s worth. Now, it was time to make up for it.
He picked up a 1942 Nazi coin off the table and rolled it around in his fingers. No, this one wouldn’t do. Too specific. He found a stack of Nigerian coins from 1970, all but eroded to dust. No, he needed something that sent a real message.
He lifted up the glass table and chose one of the so-called favorites. A Chinese coin from the Shen-Si Province, still with visible flecks of gold. He checked the year.
1964.
Perfect.
Now, who was going to be the lucky recipient?
CHAPTER NINE
Ella had been alone for ten minutes now. God knows where Byford had gone. She wanted to apologize and get back on track because being on two different wavelengths wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
Mia hadn’t answered her phone the two times she’d tried. Maybe it was never going to happen. Mia had erased her from her life and there was nothing she could do other than show up on her doorstep. And even then, who’s to say she wouldn’t just get the door slammed in her face? That was the most likely option.
She tried to forget about the Mia situation and focus on the case. Even if Byford wasn’t going to buy her theory, she was going to pursue it regardless. This killer had a religious fixation, be it occultism, Christianity, Satanism or anything else that fell under the banner of blind devotion. It had to be the case. That’s what the pattern showed.
Ella’s phone pinged on the table. Mark had finally decided to reply.
How are things going?
She typed her response. Up and down. I’m trying to figure this guy out, but he keeps throwing me curveballs. Working on a new theory. Are you doing okay? x
Her laptop showed a screen dedicated to the forgotten religion of Santeria. According to her research, Santerians believed that certain coins contained ashes of the gods and placing them among the dead would make them targets of the creatures of hell. And in addition to this cruel practice, Santerians also carried out ritual human sacrifice. And more alarming still was that these sacrifices were always non-believers or followers of other religions.
Was it possible this unsub thought Jimmy Loveridge was part of a rival fellowship, so took his life as a ritual sacrifice?
Ella searched for Santerians in Delaware but quickly found that the religion had been banned in certain parts of the world. North America was one of them. She widened her search before her phone distracted her.
That guy? Let me talk to him.
Ella re-read her previous message to decipher what the hell Mark was talking about. Then it hit her. He thought she was talking about Byford rather than the killer. She corrected herself.
Whoops, sorry! I was talking about our unsub, not my so-called partner. How are things at HQ? x
Ella scrolled through the pages, finding that the Santeria religion was still alive and well in underground circles. But how to get among them, that was the question. Apparently, followers of the religion kept their worshipping antics under wraps due to the legalities around the religion.
Another reply.
Don’t call him your partner. What have you been doing together?
Ella read the message then threw her phone down in frustration. What was going through Mark’s head to make him act like this? Where was the trust? You couldn’t just blindly assume that your partner was going to sleep with the next person who came along. She wished she’d have seen this insecurity sooner because she would have had second thoughts about dating him. She left Mark on read. She didn’t have time for this. Her unsub could be out there choosing his next time right this second, and she wasn’t going to let a jealous partner get in the way of stopping him.
Something propelled her to get out of her seat. She needed a break from this room. Across the corridor, she spotted Sheriff Hunter walking into his office, so she headed his way.
“Sheriff,” she said. “Could I use your skills a second?”
He slumped down in his chair and rubbed his face, the image of the classic overworked police officer.
“Sure. What’s the situation? Any developments?”
“A few. I’ve found a small link between the victims, but I’m onto something much more interesting here.”
“Oh?”
“Could you search the police database for something please? I don’t have access to it.”
“No problem.” Hunter put on his glasses and logged on his computer. “What am I searching for?”
“Santeria,” Ella said.
Hunter threw her a confused look. “What’s that? Someone’s name?”
“No, just a keyword. It’s a long shot, I admit.”
Hunter followed her request and typed it in. Ella corrected his spelling as he did. SEARCHING…
“Could take a while,” Hunter said. “Not exactly hi-tech up in here. What’s this word anyway?”
“It’s an old religion,” Ella said as she leaned over Hunter’s desk, her eyes glued to the screen. “I’m running with the theory that these are some kind of sacrifices.”
“Like, Satanic activity?” asked Hunter with a grimace.
“Something like that, but not quite. Something much more specific. It’s a real religion and it has a deep connection to coins and human sacrifice. Maybe our unsub might be a devout follower.”