“You were right,” said Frankel. “There have to be at least a thousand here.”

“Try thirteen-hundred and seventy-four.” Rachel turned toward Grant. “A lot died while serving their sentences or have since they got out.”

“Have you been able to break it down further?” asked Grant.

“We’re working on it.”

She flipped pages in a notebook where she’d established different categories.

“It looks like half have finished their prison time, so we’re talking in the six to seven hundred range that are no longer behind bars.”

Frankel was shocked. “That many? High turnover rate you folks have there.”

“Different class of criminal,” explained Grant. “No guns equals less violent crimes. We don’t have as many men and women doing life sentences as a result.”

Rachel flipped to another page. “Even with those who have passed away, we still have close to three hundred to check up on.”

“Any idea how many still reside in England?” Grant asked.

“Sergeant Hawley and I were just trying to figure that out.” She indicated the computer screen and a small window in the bottom right corner. “We’ve got an open chat going so we can keep updating each other.”

Grant nodded, happy to see his daughter throwing herself into the investigation with such vigor. “Please say hello.”

Rachel did just that and received a similar typed greeting back from Hawley. Grant then told them about his unexpected breakfast companion and the deal he’d struck with the journalist.

“Smart,” said Frankel. “Getting him to look in that direction while we work on this.” The detective indicated the computer screen.

“He did happen to bring up one other thing.” Grant repeated Ferguson’s questioning the killer’s motive for using the Ten Commandments.

“I’ve been racking my brain over that since you told me at breakfast the other morning,” said Rachel. “Some fanatic who spent his entire life tethered to the teachings of the church until some crazy switch flipped?”

“Or just some nut job looking for a reason to kill a bunch of people but didn’t know where to start,” countered Frankel. “Maybe he was watching that Charlton Heston movie one night and thought, hey, now there’s something I could use!”

“It might be either—but neither sheds any light on why he’s reached out to me specifically.” Grant glanced at his daughter again. “Your mother was the one who insisted on going to church every Sunday. I basically went in deference to her.”

Grant paused a beat. When he resumed, his voice had dipped. “Though the truth is I’ve been going more often since she passed.”

Rachel looked surprised. “I had no idea you did that.”

Grant offered up a sad smile. “Perhaps you’ll come back and go with me one Sunday.”

“You never know,” Rachel told him.