The Colour of Death by Michael Cordy

Author:Michael Cordy [Cordy, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Suspense, Thriller, Thrillers
ISBN: 9780552156998
Google: 4LHzo1WS4cEC
Amazon: B005E87HU4
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2011-08-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

When Fox returned to his apartment that evening the photographs of the three crime scenes were waiting for him. As he laid them on the dining table he ignored the mutilated victims and focused on the blow-ups of the killer’s message:

SERVE THE DEMON

SAVE THE ANGEL

Ignoring what the messages might mean, Fox compared the colored letters on the crime photographs with those on his cell phone. The colors Connor Delaney had used to spell the word ‘Angela’ on his daughter’s bedroom door corresponded almost exactly with the marker pen letters that spelled the word ‘Angel’ in the crime scene photographs. In all pictures, the A’s were red, the N’s blue, the E’s green and the L’s differing shades of yellow. Even the G’s were similar brown tones. Fox knew why Connor Delany had chosen the colors: he had grapheme-color synaesthesia and saw individual letters as a particular shade. But why had the killer assigned the same colors to identical letters? Was it a coincidence?

Fox retrieved the notes he had made the day he’d first discovered Sorcha’s synaesthesia. What had she said when he had shown her the letter A? ‘You’ve written it n black ink but everyone knows A’s are red… E’s are olive green.’ Grapheme-color synaesthetes often ascribed similar colors to the same letters, which indicated that not only were Sorcha and Connor Delaney synaesthetes but the killer was, too. Did that mean the killer was, too? Did that mean the killer knew Sorcha and was part of her past?

He needed to speak off the record with someone about this to check his thinking before he went official. Fullelove already thought he was spending too much time on an ex-patient so he doubted she would be too receptive, and he would have to get his facts straight before he spoke to Jordache. Whatever his facts were. He packed up all the photos, files and notes and picked up his car keys. Within half an hour he was at Samantha’s. There was a squad car outside but otherwise no sign of the recent attack. The front door had been repaired and when she opened it she showed no ill effects. “What are you doing here, Nathan? Not checking on me again, I hope. I can look after myself.”

He smiled. “You’ve proved that. I need your help. It concerns Sorcha.”

“Well, in that case, come in.” She escorted Fox into the kitchen and poured him a glass of wine.

“Have you got any beer?”

She grimaced. “You know I serve only proper drink in this house. This is a very good Sauvignon Blanc. All the way from New Zealand.”

He smiled and took the glass. “Thank you.”

“So what’s this about Sorcha? When she said goodbye to me, by the way, I got the distinct impression she didn’t want to go.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…” she paused, searching for the word, “…engaged by someone. I’m surprised you let her go.”

He frowned. “She was my patient. I did what I thought was right for her.

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