after the kidnapping. It contained a note from the kidnapper and a piece of Chi Ying's tattered blanket. DNA tests would confirm that the bloodstains on the blanket belonged to both Cail and Chi.
For strategic reasons, the police insisted, and the Carvers agreed, that information about the blanket and accompanying note should not be released to the public. They continued the manhunt as if the babies might still be alive, though the Carvers had already begun the grieving process.
The note was generated by an HP inkjet printer and contained a quote from the Bible, complete with a reference:
For I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me. Exodus 20:5.
At the bottom of the note, the kidnapper had typed a signature--a biblical allusion that ripped at the heart of the parents and grandparents. The Avenger of Blood.
9
Catherine O'Rourke stared at her computer screen. The day after the Carver kidnapping, her article had appeared on the front page of the afternoon edition. The next day, in both the morning and afternoon editions, her story about the history of the twins' adoption had again been front page, above the fold. Now Catherine's editor was breathing down her neck for yet another story on day three, something worthy of another front-page placement, and Catherine was drawing blanks.
The investigation had stalled. A press conference held by Virginia Beach Police Chief Arthur Compton just a few hours earlier had been a waste of time. The police were following all leads. There had been no ransom demand. They had not been able to find any footprints, fingerprints, or DNA evidence.
Cat stared at the photos of cute little Chi Ying and Cail Ying, photos she had tacked up on her cubicle wall. The twins had round, pudgy faces and bright little eyes. She couldn't believe that anyone would harm them. Money had to be the motive. But why no ransom note? Would the babies be sold on the black market instead?
Cat put the final touches on her sidebar story about the Carver family. The Carvers' law firm, of course, was prominently featured. Three generations of Carver men had made their mark as criminal defense lawyers. There was no case too controversial for the Carvers, Catherine had written. To beef up the story, she had quoted a few respected defense attorneys whom she had called earlier that day. A young lawyer named Marc Boland had given her the best sound bite: "The Carvers believe in the Constitution. They believe they are doing the dirty work that our founders envisioned when they set up our legal system. Their primary operating principle is that somebody has to represent those who can't speak for themselves."
The sidebar contained a paragraph of titillating speculation about the Carvers' nefarious clients and numerous enemies. Could the kidnapping be an act of revenge?
But sidebars didn't make the front page. Cat needed a story.
Her source at the police department called thirty minutes before deadline. She wanted to rush him, but she knew from experience that she couldn't short-circuit his routine.
"Are you using your earpiece?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Take it out and pick up the handset."
Catherine waited a moment. He was a great source, but his paranoia could be frustrating. "Okay."
"This is off the record, not for attribution, and not for publication unless I specifically say so."
"Right."
"You would go to jail, if necessary, before disclosing my name."
"Absolutely."
"You won't give me up to your editor, your fellow writers, or even the paper's attorney."
"Especially the paper's attorney." Catherine checked her watch. One more set of questions before he would start talking.
"Even in the face of extreme torture, you will protect my confidentiality."
The first time he had said this, Catherine thought he was serious. She had since learned it was just his quirky way of driving the point home. "Do you have
For strategic reasons, the police insisted, and the Carvers agreed, that information about the blanket and accompanying note should not be released to the public. They continued the manhunt as if the babies might still be alive, though the Carvers had already begun the grieving process.
The note was generated by an HP inkjet printer and contained a quote from the Bible, complete with a reference:
For I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me. Exodus 20:5.
At the bottom of the note, the kidnapper had typed a signature--a biblical allusion that ripped at the heart of the parents and grandparents. The Avenger of Blood.
9
Catherine O'Rourke stared at her computer screen. The day after the Carver kidnapping, her article had appeared on the front page of the afternoon edition. The next day, in both the morning and afternoon editions, her story about the history of the twins' adoption had again been front page, above the fold. Now Catherine's editor was breathing down her neck for yet another story on day three, something worthy of another front-page placement, and Catherine was drawing blanks.
The investigation had stalled. A press conference held by Virginia Beach Police Chief Arthur Compton just a few hours earlier had been a waste of time. The police were following all leads. There had been no ransom demand. They had not been able to find any footprints, fingerprints, or DNA evidence.
Cat stared at the photos of cute little Chi Ying and Cail Ying, photos she had tacked up on her cubicle wall. The twins had round, pudgy faces and bright little eyes. She couldn't believe that anyone would harm them. Money had to be the motive. But why no ransom note? Would the babies be sold on the black market instead?
Cat put the final touches on her sidebar story about the Carver family. The Carvers' law firm, of course, was prominently featured. Three generations of Carver men had made their mark as criminal defense lawyers. There was no case too controversial for the Carvers, Catherine had written. To beef up the story, she had quoted a few respected defense attorneys whom she had called earlier that day. A young lawyer named Marc Boland had given her the best sound bite: "The Carvers believe in the Constitution. They believe they are doing the dirty work that our founders envisioned when they set up our legal system. Their primary operating principle is that somebody has to represent those who can't speak for themselves."
The sidebar contained a paragraph of titillating speculation about the Carvers' nefarious clients and numerous enemies. Could the kidnapping be an act of revenge?
But sidebars didn't make the front page. Cat needed a story.
Her source at the police department called thirty minutes before deadline. She wanted to rush him, but she knew from experience that she couldn't short-circuit his routine.
"Are you using your earpiece?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Take it out and pick up the handset."
Catherine waited a moment. He was a great source, but his paranoia could be frustrating. "Okay."
"This is off the record, not for attribution, and not for publication unless I specifically say so."
"Right."
"You would go to jail, if necessary, before disclosing my name."
"Absolutely."
"You won't give me up to your editor, your fellow writers, or even the paper's attorney."
"Especially the paper's attorney." Catherine checked her watch. One more set of questions before he would start talking.
"Even in the face of extreme torture, you will protect my confidentiality."
The first time he had said this, Catherine thought he was serious. She had since learned it was just his quirky way of driving the point home. "Do you have
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