Nikki ran her fingers over the soft spine. “It wouldn’t hurt you to spend some time with God’s word,” the older woman had told her.Grannie had always smelled of perfume and cinnamon, and some of Nikki’s most cherished memories were of standing on a stool in the kitchen at the counter and learning how to roll out the thinnest and flakiest of piecrusts. Grannie had always whistled softly under her breath as she’d constructed her incredible peach or pecan pies, while crimping the edges or creating a latticework top.
As she’d worked, she’d allowed Nikki and Lily to bake their own individual pies in tiny aluminum tins. The boys were invited to partake as well, but Andrew had never been interested, and Kyle gave up when he was around seven, when he discovered he’d rather play baseball or catch toads. At least, that’s how Nikki remembered it now.
She also recalled that Grannie would never allow her to taste one bite of her concoction without a prayer of thanks or a Bible verse being whispered. That was the rule. No matter how good her pie smelled after it was removed from the oven, or how hungry Nikki claimed to be, Grannie insisted a thankful prayer be sent straight to heaven and to God.
“Remember, Nicole, always be thankful. And respectful. And remember your Bible verses,” Grannie had told her time and time again. She recalled one time in her grandmother’s kitchen when, waiting for the pies to cool, her grandmother had stared out the window to the pasture, where the horses were grazing. She’d been unhappy with Nikki that morning as she’d caught her taking Lily’s favorite doll and hiding it in her room. Nikki had lied about taking the Barbie, and Grannie had caught her in the lie.
Grannie said, “You know, if you would just live by the Golden Rule, Nicole, or … wait, better yet, the Ten Commandments, because they’re actually written in the Bible, you would be a better person and have a more fulfilling life.”
Nikki hadn’t responded, but Grannie had persisted. “Why don’t you recite those commandments?”
Stubbornly, Nikki had jutted out her chin and refused. She’d hated being chastised by the grandmother she adored, and Grannie seemed to understand. Behind her rimless glasses, her blue eyes had twinkled a bit. “You know, honey, I was a lot like you when I was your age. Rambunctious. Daring. Always pestering my brothers. They got to do things I wanted to, but wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t ‘ladylike,’ as your great-grandma used to say. And I don’t want that for you. Oh,goodness, no. You keep being rambunctious and daring and asking a million questions. It’s important. Don’t let anyone tell you what is ‘ladylike’ or ‘not proper’ when you know better. Be yourself, Nicole.” She’d grabbed Nikki’s small hands and given them a shake. “You be the best, most inquisitive and curious person you can be. But also, you need to understand that there are certain … rules or laws of nature and, especially of God, that need to be revered. So … why don’t we say the Ten Commandments together, and then, when we’re done, we’ll try your pie.” She’d nodded toward Nikki’s little tin of peaches and rhubarb and a lot of nutmeg, a blend she’d insisted upon. The pie was burnt around the edges and appeared pathetic next to Grannie’s larger, golden offerings. “It looks de-licious,” Grannie said. “Now, let’s start. What’s the first commandment? Hmm? Thou shalt have what?”
“No other gods before me,” Nikki had mumbled, still feeling chastised.
“That’s right!” Grannie was delighted. “And number two? Thou shall …”
“Make no idols.”
“Perfect!”
They continued on, and as Nikki recited, she’d begun to feel better.
In fact, those memories of flour, sugar and cinnamon, Bible verses, prayers, and laughter were some of the best of her childhood. No matter how much trouble Nikki got herself into, she knew Grannie was always supportive. Not that the older woman couldn’t get mad—Nikki had heard her whisper a “damn it” or “gosh darn it,” under her breath—but she always knew that Grannie had her back. No matter how many times she had to recite the Lord’s Prayer, or the Twenty-Third Psalm, or, more often, the Ten Commandments.
She opened the Bible to Exodus, found the passage she knew so well, and read it. As she did, she felt a little tingle of excitement along her nerves. Exodus. In the Old Testament. Written in Hebrew. Her pulse jumped as she carried the Bible back to her desk and compared the commandments to the notes she’d scratched on her legal pad.
Billy Huber. Number nine. She checked the commandment. Which was about bearing false witness against one’s neighbor. Hadn’t Billy lied about his neighbors?
Mavis Greenlee. Number five. About honoring one’s father and mother, and Mavis had definitely not honored her parents and left Blanche Crawford often alone, with very little care.
Nikki’s heartbeat accelerated.
Jeanne LaRoux. Number one. “Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” she said aloud, as she had as a child. Jeanne practiced a weird mixture of religions.
This was it. She knew it.
Except:
Naomi Kittle. Number eleven.
There was no eleventh commandment. “There are ten,” she said aloud.
She snapped the Bible closed. Was she wrong? Were the numbers purely coincidental? Some of the victims had committed other sins. Billy Huber was a thief. But the commandment against stealing, number eight, wasn’t ascribed to him; there was no other etched stone found on or near his body.
Could this all be coincidence?
No way.
And she’d heard a reference to the Ten Commandments recently. At Mavis Greenlee’s funeral, in Duke Wheelan’s remarks. By the man whom Billy Huber had borne false witness against.
Could that have been random?
She thought again about Naomi Kittle. Number 11. That didn’t make sense. In fact, it blew Nikki’s theory right out of the water.
She was missing something.
Something vital.