Page 43 of Once Silenced

A martyr.The word echoed in Riley’s mind.Martha Lancaster, a woman scorned by academia, now sanctified by radicals for her transgressions.Her impulse was to call an end to the discussion, to let Aldrich face a judge unsupported and face the longest sentence that came from his guilt.But her own sense of justice warred with the perverse logic presented; her gut told her there was more she needed to learn from this man, layers beneath layers waiting to be peeled back.

She noticed that Hammond, the steely-eyed prosecutor, appeared equally focused on Aldrich’s responses and was taking copious notes.

“Free information doesn’t justify murder,” Riley said sternly.“Knowing the Cipher Society’s creed is one thing, but if you can use it as justification for murder, I see no reason why you yourself should be free in the world.You’ve made yourself complicit.”

“But I’m not the one using it as a reason,” he protested.“I’ve never killed anyone in my whole life.Remember, the murders I’m talking about happened when I was a baby.”

“But there have been more since then,” Ann Marie said.“Margaret Whitfield has been killed.And Garrett Fenn and Robert Nash.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aldrich said.

“They all must be connected,” Putnam said.

“Of course they are,” Aldrich said softly, then fell silent.When he spoke again, his voice gaining strength, he sounded angry.“Martha’s suicide wasn’t enough to stop the chain of events that her work and her unjustified fate had set into motion.More people who associated with Martha Lancaster’s downfall and death have been struck down, and I wouldn’t be shocked if more were to follow.”

“What was their involvement?”Riley asked.

“Well, I don’t suppose Margaret Whitfield was guilty of anything,” Aldrich said with a shrug.“But it was her work that instigated the trouble, and somebody decided she should die for it.”

And she did nothing to harm anybody,Riley thought sadly.She was simply very good at math.Riley’s mind reeled, memories flooding back.Mrs.Whitfield’s gentle patience when explaining complex equations.She could still hear the scratch of chalk against blackboard, see the dust motes dancing in shafts of sunlight through the classroom windows.

“What about Garrett Fenn, who was killed several nights ago?”Riley asked.

“And Robert Nash, who was killed just last night?”Ann Marie added.

“Garrett Fenn was a math professor at Blenheim College in Roanoke,” Aldrich said.“He was an admirer and friend of Margaret Whitfield, who knew about her work.He’s the one who reported Martha Lancaster’s plagiarism to VEEM.And back then, Robert Nash was Vice President of VEEM, and he made it his mission to ensure everyone knew of Martha’s so-called plagiarism.”

“That’s what we’re faced with now,” Putnam said.“Somebody has continued the vendetta.”

Riley felt her heart rate pick up, a silent drumroll in her chest.Who had taken up Martha’s mantle?Who saw fit to judge and execute based on the twisted ideals of a society that defied the very foundations of education and law?And who had kept the notion of revenge alive for twenty years?

“You need to tell us a lot more, Aldrich,” Riley demanded.“Why do you think we should show you any consideration, even think about lightening your sentence?”

“Because I think maybe I do know who the killer is,” Aldrich said, glaring directly at Riley with a spark of something unreadable in his gaze.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Riley stared back at Derek Aldrich, holding his gaze until he turned his dark eyes away.

“If you have information about a killer,” she told him.“You’d better just tell us.Withholding could bring you other charges.”

“Get it out now,” Putnam’s voice was hard.“What do you know?”

“Recently, the society has received some anonymous email,” Aldrich said.“Messages vowing revenge on those who wronged the society’s martyr.”

“What did these messages say exactly?”Riley prodded.

Aldrich closed his eyes.He recited from memory, “‘I vow by the sacred shrine we hold most dear to take the lives of those who destroyed Martha Lancaster.’”

“Take the lives” was a chilling promise, and Riley felt a shiver despite the warmth of the room.She watched Aldrich closely, attempting to decipher if his response was rehearsed or genuine, but she saw no telltale signs of deceit or evasion.

In her ultra-polite voice, Ann Marie asked, “Please tell us what is meant by ‘the sacred shrine we hold most dear.’“

“The sacred shrine,” Aldrich replied with a somber tone that verged on reverence, “refers to Martha Lancaster’s grave in the Kirkwood Hill Cemetery over in Slychester.Cipher Society members consider it hallowed ground and sometimes make pilgrimages there.I go there a lot, it’s just a short drive from here.It’s a lovely place, almost worthy of her.”

“But these emails suggest more than a pilgrimage to a gravesite,” Riley said.“They vow to take lives.”

“Indeed,” Aldrich confirmed.“And I believe the sender has already done that.”

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