by Mary Stone
I readjusted the messenger bag on my shoulder and heaved a sigh. I’d been skimming cash from Nathaniel for the past ten years, and even though he was diligent about his firearms, he’d never noticed the couple hundred dollars that went missing every so often.
This whole mess was Nathaniel’s fault, so it seemed fitting that he ought to pay for it. I only regretted that I wouldn’t be able to turn the rifle on him.
I couldn’t physically reach Nathaniel, but I could still hurt him.
And just like he’d ruined me, I’d ruin him before I left this country. I’d take everything from him, just like everything had been taken from me when my mother died.
Nathaniel was in the custody of the police, but Maddie wasn’t. Maddie, my aunt, uncle, and nieces were all still within my reach. And before I left the United States, I’d kill them all.
I returned my attention to the unmarked graves of the five women I’d killed.
Dakota Ronsfeldt.
Anastasia Mitchell.
Cassi Coleridge.
Thaisa Glendower.
Constance Wolsey.
It was a shame I wouldn’t have the time to bury the rest of my family out here. Personally, I couldn’t think of a better resting place. These women had been hookers when they were alive, and I knew there was no way they’d ever be buried in an area half as nice as the lake house. I did them a favor, and there wasn’t a single one of them who had been grateful for it.
If Katrina Arkwell was still alive, I was sure all our stories would have ended differently. Maybe not the women buried beneath the massive elm tree, but for the rest of my family.
Nathaniel never should have let my mother drive that night. She’d been prescribed a new medication, and the start of a hurricane poured rain onto the city streets. One of the side effects of her medicine was blurred vision and dizziness. She hadn’t seen the flood waters until it was too late, and I was sure the medication was at fault.
Well, the medication and Nathaniel. If he’d stopped her, if he’d insisted that she didn’t need to go to pick up my sister before the full force of the hurricane hit, she’d still be alive.
Her death had been ruled an accident, but I knew better.
I knew who was to blame, and now he would pay.
Noah glanced up from his phone as the door to the interview room creaked open. A teenage girl with dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail stepped in ahead of the middle-aged woman at her back. The girl’s green eyes flicked around the small room as the woman thanked the agent that had escorted them through the FBI building. When the woman’s attention shifted over to Noah, he offered them both a pleasant smile.
Moving to stand, he extended a hand to the pair. “Maddie Arkwell, Susanna Arkwell, I’m Special Agent Dalton.”
With a nod, Susanna accepted the handshake as her niece pulled out a chair. “Agent. Could you tell us why we’re here? I was with Maddie last night when she answered the detective’s questions. What is it that the FBI needs to know that the Richmond PD didn’t?”
Noah’s smile was unfaltering. He’d expected a certain level of obstinance from the sister-in-law of a judge, and so far, he wasn’t disappointed. “That’s a good question. Please.” He waved to the chair beside Maddie. “Have a seat.”
Her expression was begrudging, but Susanna accepted his offer.
Maddie glanced from her aunt to Noah. “Can I see my dad?”
The hopeful glint in her eyes was enough to elicit a pang of trepidation, but he shoved the sentiment aside. “Not quite yet. We’ve still got some information to get from him, but then you’ll be able to talk to him.”
The teenager responded with little more than a grim nod. “You think he killed that girl, right? Peyton Hoesch? That’s what my brother said her name was. If my dad killed her, it was self-defense.”
There wasn’t so much as a sliver of doubt in her eyes. She spoke with the same certainty he’d expect from a chemist, a doctor, a mathematician.
Not what he’d expect from the frightened daughter of a predator.
Leaning back in his seat with a light creak, Noah folded his hands on the table. “Why do you think that, Maddie?”
She laughed, but the sound was mirthless. Despite the confident visage she put forth, the light glimmered on the first hints of glassiness in her eyes. “Because he doesn’t even kill spiders when he finds them. If they’re too big, he catches them and puts them outside. Otherwise, he just leaves them alone. He doesn’t even like spiders, he just doesn’t want to kill them.”
He’d anticipated a flash of defensiveness, but the pain and worry behind Maddie’s green eyes was above and beyond the Stockholm Syndrome type traits for which he’d prepared.
As he regained his focus, Noah straightened. “Were you at home when Peyton was shot?”
Shaking her head, Maddie picked at a piece of fuzz on her t-shirt. “I was at my friend’s house.”
“When you left for your friend’s house, where was Peyton? What was she doing?” Though professional, he made sure to keep his tone amiable.
Maddie shrugged. “She was in the kitchen with my brother. They were waiting for their other classmate to get there so they could work on some group project.”
Noah’s next question was perfunctory. “Who was the classmate? Do you know their name?”
She glanced to her aunt, and Susanna shrugged.
“I’d never met her or anything.” Maddie’s eyes were back on him. “If that’s what you’re asking. I’d never even heard her name before then.”
“What was her name?”
The teenager paused to look thoughtful. “I heard them say it a couple times while I was in the kitchen texting my friend. I think her name was Caroline? I don’t think I heard them say her last name though.”
The effort to keep his eyes from widening was monumental. Clamping his teeth together, he pushed past the rush of surprise.
Caroline Peters, the young woman whose pictures had been posted on the dark web forum used by the killer responsible for the disappearances of five other young women was supposed to have been in that home at the same time Peyton Hoesch was killed.
Circumstantial or not, there was no way they could ignore the newest piece of evidence. There was no feasible way to write the Arkwells’ connection to Caroline Peters off as circumstance.
He swallowed and returned his focus to the room. “Was your father home at that time?”
“Yes. He was upstairs in his office.”
With a nod, Noah moved to stand. “Okay, ladies. Those are all the questions I have for now. I need to step just outside and make a few phone calls, but I won’t be far, I promise.”
“Agent Dalton.” The woman’s voice stopped him just short of the door.
He forced a neutral countenance as he faced her. “Yes, Mrs. Arkwell?”
“What exactly happened to Peyton Hoesch?” The haughtiness had dissolved from her expression, and now her blue eyes were weary.
“Well, Mrs. Arkwell.” He cast a quick glance to Maddie. “Peyton Hoesch’s death has been ruled a homicide.”
To her credit, Susanna moved past the shock almost as soon as it settled in on her face. “A homicide? Why is this a federal case?”
He clenched his jaw. “Because Peyton Hoesch was the daughter of a DEA agent, Mrs. Arkwell, which makes it a federal case automatically. Your brother-in-law’s statement is inconsistent with the forensic evidence we’ve collected so far, and right now, we’re trying to figure out why he’s lying to us.”
“Lying?” Maddie echoed, her eyes wide. “Why…why would he lie?”
Noah held out his hands. “I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Thank you again for answering my questions. You’ve both been very helpful so far.” He gave them the most genuine smile he could manage. “Sit tight while I make those calls. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
33
Autumn didn’t need the newest information Noah’d just texted her to know for certain t
hat Nathaniel Arkwell was a liar. As soon as the judge accepted her handshake, she knew. He was lying to protect someone, and there was only one person who that someone could be.
Now, she just needed him to say it.
Clicking the pen in her hand, Autumn glanced over to the two-way mirror before she offered Arkwell a smile. “Mr. Arkwell, I just want to make sure you understand that this interview is being monitored, and that anything you say here can be used against you in a court of law.”
His light brown eyes were fixed on hers as he nodded. “I understand.”
She renewed her smile. “Good. Now, Mr. Arkwell, in your own words, I’d like you to tell me what happened last night, step by step. I know it might seem tedious, but it is often the smallest detail that turns out to be important.”
With another nod, he launched into the same recollection Autumn had already heard from Winter, Noah, and Aiden. She scribbled out a couple notes, but the writing was merely to make herself appear busy. By the time he finished, his expression had hardly changed.
But it had changed. A less keen observer might not have noticed, but Judge Arkwell was nervous. And next to the trepidation was weariness. Like he’d been maintaining a façade for too long, and the effort had sapped his mental resources.
As he finished the story, she rested one hand on the yellow legal pad and fixed him with an inquisitive look. “What did you hit her with?”
He drew his brows together. “Beg pardon?”
Autumn didn’t let her stare waver. “You said you hit her in the back of the head in the scuffle. What did you hit her with?”
His brown eyes darted back and forth before he finally shook his head. “I…I think it was a tool or something. I didn’t really look at it, I just grabbed it so I could defend myself.”
She glanced to the pane of glass, but Arkwell hardly noticed. “I’m sure you saw it afterwards, right?”
He opened and closed his mouth, but he didn’t speak.
“Mr. Arkwell, do you remember the fight you had with Peyton Hoesch?” As much as she wanted to ask him why he was lying, she reminded herself that she was conducting a clinical interview, not an interrogation.
Asking about his memory was relevant to an assessment of mental illness, though she sincerely doubted that the judge had experienced a dissociative episode. There were no signs of schizophrenia or any similar disorder in his family’s history.
She didn’t need to touch him again to know he was just a liar.
As he stammered out a nonsensical response to her question, the realization struck her. Nathaniel Arkwell didn’t fit Aiden Parrish’s psychological profile of the serial killer from the dark web forum, but Cameron Arkwell very well might.
She nodded absentmindedly as she set the pen on the pad of paper. “Could you tell me about your son? What’s your relationship with him like?”
A wave of anxiety spread over the judge’s face. “M-my son? Why?”
Autumn folded her hands. “Interpersonal relationships are a key component to a person’s mental health. I’d like to know a little bit more about your family so I can get a better picture of what your life is like.”
The shadows shifted along his throat as he swallowed. Between the wariness and the stubble that darkened his cheeks, he looked like he’d aged ten years since she walked into the room.
Slowly, he nodded his understanding. “My son is…he’s smart. He’s been on the Dean’s List for almost every semester he’s been at VCU.”
“What about his mother? What happened to her?” Though she worried her tone might sound too crisp, the faraway look in Nathaniel’s eyes made her wonder if he would have noticed had she shouted the question.
“She was in an accident about eleven years ago. She was on her way to get Maddie, our daughter, from a friend’s house. It was dark, and a hurricane was about to make landfall. We’d just gotten hit with the edge of it by that time, but it was enough to cause quite a bit of flooding.” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “She didn’t see the flood water until it was too late.”
More than a decade later, and the loss of his wife was still an open wound. Though Autumn thought to prod him for more information about the status of his marriage before Katrina’s death, she didn’t need her sixth sense to know that Nathaniel had cared deeply for Katrina.
“We went to high school together, but we didn’t start dating until we were in college. We’re both from Kansas, but she followed me out here when I joined the Navy. She found out she was pregnant a few weeks after we got to Norfolk, so I guess it’s a good thing she did.” His eyes were glassy by the time he paused.
Autumn couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever sought counseling or help after the loss. Based on the pain in his face, she thought the answer was a definitive no.
Before she composed another question, he went on. “I got my first assignment while she was pregnant, and I felt terrible when I had to leave. She was really great about it, though. She was excited. It was a little earlier than we’d planned, but we knew we wanted to have a family. She was only twenty at the time, and I was twenty-three, but we figured we’d be okay.”
As Nathaniel paused to swallow, Autumn made no move to interject.
“After Cameron was born, it…changed. We’d both been excited before, but then, once he was there.” With his vacant stare fixed on the corner of the room, he shrugged. “It was like it turned real for her. Don’t get me wrong, she loved Cameron, but I just don’t think she was ready. The doctors diagnosed her with postpartum depression but having a diagnosis didn’t make it any easier.”
Just below the nonsense she’d scribbled out earlier, Autumn jotted down Cameron’s name. Beside it, she wrote neglect?
The lack of attention during a small child’s critical development stages was associated with an increased likelihood of antisocial personality disorder, a disorder present in many serial killers and other violent offenders.
She glanced back to Nathaniel just as he returned his focus to her. “Mr. Arkwell, do you know where your son is right now?”
He shook his head, and she watched as the stony facade settled back into place. “No. The police wouldn’t let him stay at the house, so he probably went to stay with a friend.”
Though his composure was admirable, there were cracks in the veneer that hadn’t been there before. Beneath his show of invulnerability and exasperation, he wanted to talk to her. He’d demonstrated as much when he opened up about Katrina Arkwell.
At the same time, there was a powerful mental force stopping him from doing so.
The sentiment was so pervasive, she didn’t have to touch him to feel it. Nathaniel Arkwell was motivated by guilt.
34
As Miguel Vasquez presented the search warrant to the uniformed officers posted just inside the Arkwell residence, Winter glanced around the spacious foyer. The ceiling was two stories high, and a sleek chandelier hung over the entryway. An arched doorway to her left led to the dining room and then the kitchen, and the short hall directly in front of the foyer led to the great room. On the right, a set of stairs ascended to the sunny second floor.
“I had a friend who lived in a house like this when I was in middle school.” Stella Norcott’s voice drew Winter from her silent contemplation.
Winter fished out a pair of nylon gloves as she turned to the forensics expert. They’d already donned their protective Tyvek jumpsuits and paper booties, and all looked like giant snow bunnies milling about. “It’s massive. It makes executing a search warrant for the entire place into a full-time job.”
As she produced her own gloves, Stella smiled. “That’s why my team and I are here. Now that we’re fairly sure that the person who posted those videos on the dark web is the same person who killed Peyton Hoesch, it was easy to get a whole team assigned to search this place.”
Glancing to the side, Winter gestured to the stairs. “From the looks of it, the bedrooms are upstairs. The second story wasn’t accessible without the warra
nt, so I was going to head up there first to see if I could find the son’s room since SSA Parrish’s profile indicated that the perp was younger.” Looked like Aiden’s profile might be spot on…dammit.
With a nod, Stella picked up her kit. “Okay. Let’s go see what we can find. I’ve got two people designated to the garage and the car, and the rest will spread out to go through the rest of the house.”
“I’ll be in the garage with them,” Miguel Vasquez said. He snapped his blue gloves into place and made his way to where a crime scene tech stood beneath the arched doorway.
Winter flashed him a quick thumbs-up before she turned to follow Stella upstairs. She had volunteered to help execute the search warrant in hopes that her sixth sense might help her pick up on a clue that might have otherwise been overlooked. Even as she and Stella walked up the stairs, Winter’s eyes darted back and forth as she looked for any hint of a red glow.
“Nathaniel Arkwell’s son is a suspect now, isn’t he?” Stella pushed open a closed door to reveal a pristine bedroom.
Based on the colorful bedspread and the poster for the newest Wonder Woman film, the room belonged to Maddie Arkwell. Beside the open doorway to the walk-in closet, a modest aquarium bubbled quietly. A wooden carving of the letter M sat atop a matte black computer desk, and beside it were a couple succulent plants.
With a nod to Stella, Winter stepped back into the hall. “Cameron Arkwell is a suspect, but Maddie Arkwell isn’t. We’ll still look through her room if we need to, but we should start with father and son’s.”
Stella nodded, and they made their way to the next door in line. The décor for the second room was minimal, and the space was every bit as tidy as Maddie’s room. Gray-blue walls complemented the navy bedspread, and the only items on the wall were a couple Tarantino movie posters. If it hadn’t been for a neat stack of mail at the edge of the computer desk, Winter wouldn’t have been sure whose room they were in.
