When Mackenzie arrived at the station, there were two officers at the front doors waiting for her. She was surprisingly pleased to see that one of them was Porter. He gave her a knowing smile as she reached the doors and without a word, the men opened the doors and led her inside. They had taken three steps into the station when Mackenzie realized that Porter and the other officer were acting as a shield. They walked to either side of her at a brisk pace, helping her to blend in just in case anyone at the station saw her and might want to stir up trouble.
Quickly, they reached the main hall where she saw Nelson standing outside of the interrogation room. He straightened up when he saw them coming and Mackenzie saw that he looked terribly on edge-like he might very well blast off like a rocket at any moment.
"Thanks," he said when they reached him.
"Of course," Mackenzie said.
Nelson gave Porter and the other officer a curt nod and they headed away at once. After taking a single step, though, Porter turned back to her and whispered. "Damn fine work," he said with the same smile he'd showed her at the front door.
She only nodded her head in response, returning the smile. With that, the officers headed down the hall, back toward the front of the building.
"Okay," Nelson said. "This Hooks guy, he's being mostly cooperative. He's just scared and nervous. He's doing a great deal of talking and hasn't asked to see a lawyer yet. So don't push him too hard and we might get out of this one without a lawyer coming and stalling everything."
"Okay."
"We'll be watching in the review room so if anything goes wrong, someone can be in there in less than ten seconds. You good?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
Nelson gave her a reassuring pat on the back and then opened the door for her. To her surprise, Nelson walked away from the room, down the hall toward the review room. Mackenzie looked to the open door for a moment before walking in.
He's in there, she thought. The Scarecrow Killer is in there.
When she entered the interrogation room, the man at the small table in the center of the room went through a strange series of emotions; first he sat up as rigid as a board, then a frown washed over his face, followed by confusion and then ultimately a vague sort of relief.
Mackenzie went through a similar range of emotions when she saw the killer for the first time. He looked to be in his early fifties, his hair gray around the edges and the lines of age starting to show in his face. He was a skinny man but rather tall. He regarded her with deep brown eyes that were easy to read: he was sacred and deeply confused.
"Hi, Mr. Hooks," she said. "My name is Detective White. I think if you can answer some questions for me as honestly as you can, you can get out of here pretty quickly. I'm told you've been cooperative so far, so let's keep that up, okay?"
He nodded. "This is all some huge understanding," Hooks said. "They think I killed three women. They think I'm that Scarecrow Killer."
"You're not?" she asked.
"Of course I'm not! I'm a pastor at Grace Creek Baptist Church."
"That's what I'm told," Mackenzie said. "The Bible in your truck was marked to several passages. One of them happens to be closely associated with the Scarecrow Killer case."
"Yes, that's what the other officers have said. The Cities of Refuge, correct?"
Mackenzie took a moment to regroup. She was pissed that someone had already revealed their hand and told Hooks about the Cities of Refuge connection. She was going to have to try a different angle here. All she knew for certain was that her gut told her implicitly that Hooks was certainly not the Scarecrow Killer. The fear in his eyes was genuine and, as far as she was concerned, told them all they needed to know.
"What about the strands of rope we found in the floorboard?"
"Grace Creek's Vacation Bible School is in two weeks," Hooks said. "The strands of rope were left over from one of the stage decorations we're creating. We're going with a jungle theme this year and we used the rope for vines and a little mock swinging bridge."
"And where is Grace Creek Baptist located?"
"On Highway 33."
"And that runs parallel to Stare Route 411, correct?"
"It does."
Mackenzie had to turn her back to Hooks for a moment to hide the expression on her face. How had Nelson and his sycophant officers been so blind and stupid? Had they not done any digging before bringing this poor man in?
When she managed to compose herself, she turned back to him, trying her best not to show him that she was already convinced that he was not the killer. "Why, exactly, did you have the passage about the Cities of Refuge marked?"
"I'm planning to preach about it in three or four weeks."
"Can I ask why?" Mackenzie asked.
"It's to talk about committing sin in a way that doesn't make the congregation feel guilty. We all sin, you know. Even me. Even the most devout. But many people are raised to believe that sin means eternal damnation and the cities are a great illustration for God's forgiveness of sin. They are all about degree of sin. They were meant primarily for those who had committed unintentional murder. Not all sins are the same. And even those who commit murder, if unintentional, can be forgiven."
Mackenzie thought about this for a moment, feeling a connection trying to click in her head. There was something there, but it wasn't making itself known just yet.
"One final question, Mr. Hooks," she said. "Your Toyota is rather old. How long have you owned it?"
Hooks thought for a moment and shrugged. "Eight years or so. I brought it used from a member of Grace Creek."
"Have you ever hauled any sort of wood in it?"
"Yes. I had several sheets of plywood in it last week for more decorations. And from time to time, I help people gather firewood in the winter and deliver it to their homes."
"Anything bigger than that?"
"No. Not that I can remember."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Hooks. You've been very helpful. I feel pretty confident that you'll be out of here in no time."
He nodded, as confused as ever. Mackenzie gave him a final look as she left the room, closing the door behind him. The moment she was outside of the interrogation room, Nelson came out of the review room a few doors down. He looked flustered as he approached her and she could feel the tension coming off of him in waves.
"Well, that was quick," he said.
"He's not the killer," Mackenzie said.
"And how the hell are you so sure?" he asked.
"With all due respect, sir, did you even ask him about the rope?"
"We did," Nelson snapped. "He spouted off some story about needing it for Vacation Bible School at his church."
"Did anyone bother to check on that?"
"I'm waiting on a call at any moment," he said. "I sent a car out there about half an hour ago."
"Sir, his church is about fifteen minutes away from the site in question. He said he had plans to preach on the Cities of Refuge sometime soon."
"Seems convenient, doesn't it?"
"It does," she said. "But when is such a weak connection grounds for an arrest?"
Nelson scowled at her and placed his hands on his hips. "I knew it was a mistake to bring you in. Are you determined to draw this out as long as you can? Do you want the attention so you can stay in the headlines?"
Mackenzie couldn't help herself when she took a step forward, her anger rising up. "Please tell me that's just the frustration talking," she said. "I'd like to think you have a better head on your shoulders than to think such a thing."
"Check your tone, Mackenzie," he said. "Right now, you're just off this case. Get in my face again, I'll suspend you indefinitely."
A tense silence fell between them that lasted only three seconds, interrupted by the ringing of Nelson's cell phone. He broke his gaze with Mackenzie, turned his back to her, and answered it.
Mackenzie stood there and listened to his end of the conversation, hoping whatever the call was about, it might help to clear things up and free Pastor Hooks.
"What is it?" Nelson asked, his back still turned. "Yeah? Okay….you're certain? Well shit. Yeah…got it."
When Nelson turned back to her, he looked like he wanted to throw his cell phone down the hall. His cheeks had taken on a bright red color and he looked absolutely defeated.
"What is it?" Mackenzie asked.
Nelson hesitated, looking to the ceiling and letting out a sigh. It was very much the posture of someone that was about to eat a large helping of humble pie.
"The rope in his truck is an exact match to rope used to create stage designs for Vacation Bible School at Grace Creek Baptist. More than that, there were printed papers and handwritten notes in a small office in the back of the church that show where Hooks is indeed planning a sermon on the Cities of Refuge."
It took every ounce of her will to not make a comment about how he and his officers had been wrong-how they had been so eager to wrap this case up without the help of the State or the FBI that they had arrested a man that had no business ever being cuffed.
"So he's good to go?" Mackenzie said.
"Yes. He checks out."
She allowed herself a thin smile. "Should you tell him, or should I?"
Nelson looked like his head might explode at any moment. "You do it," he said. "And when you're done, please promptly get the hell out of here. It might be best that you and I don't speak for a day or so."
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.
