At First Light(Dr. Evan Wilding #1)(38)

Patrick picked at the skin around his thumbnail. “He’s invoking trees and elk? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rhinehart gazed down at the detective. “You might listen to my podcast, Detective McBrady. Episodes fourteen and fifteen, ‘The Secret of the Runes.’ The word elk doesn’t refer to the animal but to a plant. Elk sedge has a sharp leaf sometimes used to slice human flesh.”

“That’s actually kinda cool,” Wao said.

“The elk rune also stands for defense and protection. And . . .” Rhinehart paused theatrically and looked around the room. Every face was turned toward him, like upturned flowers following the sun. “And it’s important to note that this elk sedge symbol, the eolhx rune, was called the life rune by the Nazis and appeared on the uniforms of some of their troops. Specifically, those of the Sturmabteilung, the original paramilitary detachment of the Nazi party that helped bring Hitler to power.”

“So we’re back to Nazis,” Patrick said.

Rhinehart let out a breath and pressed a palm to his heart. “Exactly.”

But Criver had gone rigid. “Is that a name there in the second line? Adam Nedscop?” He turned to Billings. “Run it.”

Billings typed, then shook his head. “It’s not a name that comes up anywhere in our system. Or the DMV’s.”

Rhinehart circled the name on the board. “It might be a reference to Adam, the first man. Which, in the Nazi worldview, would be the first Aryan. If the killer shares that name, he would want to emphasize it.”

“And nedscop?”

“Perhaps a surname. Or simply nonsense. As I said, a series of runes he copied from somewhere.”

Evan stirred and spoke. “You’ve deleted the hyphen in the name.”

Rhinehart waved airily. “It was likely just a slip of the knife when he was carving. But whoever this Adam is, he’s either current or former military.”

“The weary warrior,” Addie said.

Evan frowned.

“That’s one mention.” Rhinehart tapped the board with the marker. “I’d like to bring your attention to all the military references. There’s weary warrior in the fourth line, as our lovely detective just pointed out. A mention of war crimes in line eight. Two lines down, we have war wolf. And reg appears in the same line, possibly a reference to regulation. We also have a suggestion of war din, meaning noise, in the line above.”

A cacophony of voices broke across the room.

“And . . .” Rhinehart raised his hand, quieting everyone. “And. He ends his rantings—his poem or screed or whatever you want to call it—with the runic character for homeland, the peorth or othala rune. Which was also used by the Nazis, this time on the uniforms of the Waffen-SS. He is, once again, drilling in the significance of war and Nazism. This rune is also linked to the idea of property. Even ancestral lands. The killer is talking about the sanctity of home.”

“Which,” Billings said in a voice soft as oil sliding into water, “also goes toward Nazism. The protection of the homeland against unwanted ethnicities like Blacks and Jews.”

“Brilliant,” Criver said. He tossed down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “Just brilliant. We know, or at least strongly suspect, we’re looking for a Nazi sympathizer who served in the military and who might have the name Adam Nedscop or some variant of that. This gives us a wonderful place to start.”

Beside him, Billings peeled back his lips from his teeth in what Addie finally decided was a smile.

“I have more,” Rhinehart said.

The flower faces swiveled back to him.

“To emphasize my earlier point about black magic, please note the mention of hell guards. Someone with my experience studying the occult knows that this suggests demons. We also have the words weird and wicked. The phrase binding up evil, which likely refers to trapping a demon and forcing it to do your will. And we see mention of the Nordic god Tyr before the phrase war crimes. Tyr was the god of war. But he was also equated with the Roman god Mars, who was the receiver of sacrifices.”

Criver murmured, “What kind of insanity are we dealing with?”

“I suggest your search focus on a white male,” Rhinehart said. “A military man or former military. Someone of fairly low economic status and a low-level education but with an immense ego, as suggested by the repetition of mine, mine, mine in the middle of the poem.”

“This is very helpful,” Billings said. Then he turned his sly smile on Evan. “What about the professor? We have yet to hear any brilliant insights from him.”

Evan sat up, cleared his throat. “I just have two small questions.”

Rhinehart folded his arms, resting them on his paunch. “Go on.”

“Well . . .” Evan fumbled through his notes. “Assuming the killer is using the mystic meaning of a rune to emphasize something or invoke something—perhaps the Norse gods—then why would he single out the ethel rune, whose meaning is unknown?”

Addie felt a stab of disappointment. Compared to what Rhinehart had just presented, Evan’s complaint felt small. A technicality.

Rhinehart removed a different hankie from his pocket and blew his nose, as if in agreement with Addie’s thought. He stuffed the soiled cloth back.

He said, “The ethel rune, because it is unknown, is most often linked with secrets. With mysteries. Even with the idea of luck, which the killer no doubt wished to evoke. The killer is letting us know he has his secrets. That he is a mystery to us. What else?”