by Mary Stone
Unless, of course, they’d put out an all-points bulletin. But even then, being nondescript gave me a distinct advantage. All I had to do was make it to my aunt and uncle’s house, and from there, I could drive one of their cars out of the city.
As I slowed to an all-way stop sign, I glanced to the red blanket that covered the back seat. The rifle was locked and loaded, and I was only a couple blocks away from the house.
When I turned my attention to the rearview mirror, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. The black car was still a couple blocks behind me, but I knew right away that it was a cop.
If they followed me to the house, then my plans would have to change drastically. I could abandon my task and flee the city right now, but I’d have to lose the unmarked car nipping at my heels. Though I still wasn’t certain that they were after me, Nathaniel had always taught me to air on the side of paranoia.
Truth be told, I didn’t want to abandon my task. Nathaniel had ratted me out, and I was about to deal him a blow from which he’d never recover.
With another quick look to the hidden rifle, I pulled away from the stop sign as quickly as I dared.
A few more blocks.
37
Autumn turned in her seat to regard the opening door. Though she was used to greeting her friends with a smile and a wave, Winter and Noah’s grim expressions, coupled with the tension that crackled through the air like an electric current, kept the salutation off her lips altogether.
“Agent Dalton, Agent Black.” Max Osbourne offered them a crisp nod.
As they took their seats for the impromptu briefing about the status of Cameron Arkwell, Autumn glanced around the room. Their ranks were thin.
Bobby Weyrick had gone with the crime scene unit to investigate a lakeside property owned by Nathaniel Arkwell while Agent Miguel Vasquez was at the Arkwells’ house, and Agent Sun Ming had gone to the beach house in Newport News. They’d uncovered plenty of damning evidence so far, but they still needed to find their suspect.
Max Osbourne swept his gaze over the small gathering. “We don’t have much time. There’s an APB out on Cameron Arkwell and his car, but based on what we found at that lake house, and based on Dr. Trent’s assessment, we’ve advised them to avoid engaging him if at all possible. If they spot him, they’re expected to contact the bureau immediately.”
To her side, Aiden nodded his agreement. “We don’t know what he’s armed with, but we’re certain that he is armed.”
Though the spark of indignation in Winter’s eyes might have been a figment of Autumn’s imagination, she could have sworn she saw her friend shoot an unsavory glance in Aiden’s direction.
“What did they find at the lake house?” Noah asked.
The SAC ran a hand over his gray buzz cut. “The basement, which I’m sure Agent Black already told you about. And then the stockpile of ammunition. It looked like some of it was missing, but we don’t know how much. There were a couple handguns and a rifle along with it, but again, we’ve got no way of knowing what was missing, if anything. But we’re airing on the side of caution and assuming that Cameron Arkwell is armed to the teeth.”
Aiden’s pale eyes shifted from her to Winter and Noah. “He’s going to try to kill his sister. He thinks she’s at her aunt and uncle’s house, so that’s where he’s headed.”
Furrowing her brows, Winter shook her head slightly. “Why would he do that if he thinks we’re on to him? Wouldn’t he just leave the city?”
Before Aiden could make another comment, Autumn butted in. “He’s a narcissist, but he’s not naïve or delusional. If he suspects we’re on to him, then he knows there won’t be much he can do to get away, at least not in the long-term. He might consider trying to flee the country, but he ought to know that with airport security, he wouldn’t get far unless he had a fake passport. Which is possible, but fake American passports are difficult to make, and it takes several weeks or months to get one. So, unless he planned ahead for a day such as this, it’s just as likely that he doesn’t have one.”
As the irritability dissipated from Winter’s eyes, Autumn realized the petulant glance hadn’t been her imagination. There was a palpable tension between her and Aiden, but Autumn’s curiosity would have to wait.
With an upraised hand, Max reached into his suit jacket to retrieve a smartphone. He stepped away from the table as he identified himself to the caller.
Autumn glanced from Winter to Noah and then back. “Cameron Arkwell is going to kill his family. He doesn’t know for sure if he can get out of the country, but he does know that there’s a chance he can make it to his aunt and uncle before we do.”
Noah’s mouth was a hard line as he nodded. “Maddie Arkwell and her aunt are both here. We just need to get to the uncle and his kids. Maddie said her cousins are twelve and fourteen. It’s a Saturday, so it’s likely they’re all at home right now.”
As she blew out a silent breath, they collectively turned their attention back to Max Osbourne.
The SAC pocketed his phone. “They found him.”
Winter was on her feet in an instant. “Where is he?”
A shadow settled in over Max’s face. “He’s at Susanna and David Arkwell’s house. The city police tried to intercept him, but he pulled up to the house and got out of the car with an AR in his hands. He pointed it at them but managed to get inside before the LEOs were close enough to take a shot.”
“Shit,” Noah spat.
Max gestured to the doorway. “The tactical team is geared up and ready to go, and we’re going with them. From what the officer I just spoke with says, they’re looking at the potential for a hostage situation.”
Autumn pushed herself from her seat and casted a hurried glance over the four federal agents. “You can’t negotiate with him. Not like you would with a normal person.”
She could feel Aiden’s eyes on the side of her face. “What do you mean?”
Pursing her lips, she met his curious stare. “He’s not like a normal person. He’s not doing this because he’s panicked or because he legitimately thinks he’ll be able to get out of there unscathed. Think of it this way.” She held up her hands and looked to the other three agents. “It’s like you’re going to negotiate a hostage situation with Ted Bundy or Edmund Kemper. How do you think that would go? They want to save their own skin, sure, but they also want to retain control. The second they agree to your terms, they forfeit their control.”
“Shit.” This time, the utterance came from Max Osbourne. “Dr. Trent, you’re coming with us.”
The cold rush of adrenaline flooded Autumn’s veins. As she opened her mouth to protest, to remind the SAC that she wasn’t a federal agent, that this wasn’t her job, she bit off the rebuttal. Mike Shadley, one of the two partners who ran Shadley and Latham, had told her two different stories about how he’d accompanied law enforcement to confront a volatile offender.
Whether she liked it or not, this was her job.
38
Even in a residential neighborhood, snipers had the two-story house covered from three different angles. Winter and Max were crouched behind a squad car parked in the middle of the street in front of the house. Angled at the car’s front and rear fenders were two more squad cars. Noah and a police sergeant were hunched behind the vehicle in front of the car she was behind, and Autumn was with Aiden behind the other.
More police officers stood or crouched behind a few other squad cars, including those that had been positioned to cover the back of the house. So far, Cameron Arkwell had only shouted for them to mind their own business and leave before he killed his three hostages.
Adrenaline had been a constant companion since Winter arrived at the scene, but she had learned to control the jittery movements and racing thoughts. Adrenaline was useful in a stressful situation, but stressful situations had changed over time. These days, humans weren’t hunting wooly mammoths or saber-toothed cats. The tremor and panic that accompanied an adrenaline rush were no longer useful
, at least not in a hostage situation.
As Winter adjusted the stock of the M4 Carbine against her shoulder, she clicked a button to speak into the microphone attached to her Kevlar vest. “Autumn, can you hear me?”
Static hissed in her ear before the connection cleared. “Yeah, I can.”
Winter turned her head to Max and flashed him a thumbs-up. During her time with the FBI, Winter had become an adept investigator, but she suspected her knack for suspect interviews wouldn’t translate to hostage negotiation. The city had trained hostage negotiators on staff, but Max Osbourne had reminded them that this was a federal case. And while the FBI also kept trained hostage negotiators on staff, none were currently available.
“Is this a full moon or something?” she muttered to herself.
Besides, Autumn had told them that Cameron Arkwell wasn’t a normal hostage taker—if such a thing even existed. The techniques that most negotiators had been taught wouldn’t necessarily apply to a dialogue with someone like Cameron.
She took in a steadying breath before she pressed the mic button again. She and Autumn were the only two on their frequency, so at least she didn’t have to worry about maintaining formality when she addressed her friend. “Okay, I need to get him to start talking to me. Or to us, however you want to look at it.”
After a click and a hiss, Autumn’s voice buzzed in her ear. “Just be as straightforward as you can. He’ll see through any attempts to placate him, so just come out and say what you mean. Ask him what he wants, and phrase it like that. Don’t try to offer him anything until after he’s answered.”
Winter nodded to herself as she moved to kneel. She kept her head just below the side mirror of the cruiser—raised enough so she could see the house, but ducked down far enough to keep herself from becoming an easy target.
Her mouth had become a desert, and she swallowed in an effort to return some semblance of moisture to her tongue. “Cameron Arkwell!” The shout sounded hoarse, but she was just glad she’d actually been able to shout. “This is Special Agent Black with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. What do you want?”
The seconds ticked away, and she wondered whether or not he’d heard her. Before she could repeat her question, he finally spoke. “I don’t want anything from you people.”
The calm in his voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Autumn was right. This was like trying to negotiate with Ted Bundy.
Static hissed in her ear again before Autumn spoke. “I figured he’d say something like that. Tell him that’s BS. Everyone wants something.”
Winter inched a bit taller and dared another glance at the house. She hoped to see a red glow that would indicate which room he was in, but there was nothing. “I know that’s not true. Everyone wants something, Cameron.”
This time, his response was abrupt. “I’m not stupid. I know you people aren’t going to give me what I want. I want you to leave, to mind your own damn business. This is my family, and you have no idea what you’re dealing with!”
“The only thing that’s going to motivate him at this point is the opportunity for him to stay alive,” Autumn said. “He’s here because he feels like he has an axe to grind with his father. He wants his father to suffer, so you can play up the felony murder rule and make it seem like Nathaniel’s going to be in prison for the rest of his life. Ask him if he’s willing to die right now just to slight his father, and then bring up the potential for Nathaniel’s sentence.”
Winter wasn’t certified in hostage negotiations, but she was sure this wasn’t how a typical case was handled. But she trusted Autumn.
As she peeked out to the house again, the area was still. Then, as she watched, the front window slid open a few inches, then a few inches more.
“We’ve got movement,” Winter announced to the team.
The curtains were drawn, though, so it was impossible to tell who was lifting the window, but Winter thought she knew why. It was so that Cameron could shout through the screen to be heard by his audience. An audience of automatic rifles, edgy cops, and flashing red and blue lights.
Clearing her throat, she inched back to relative safety. “Is this really the hill you want to die on, Cameron? Because if this goes your way, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. There are snipers with itchy trigger fingers covering that house from every angle. Do you think you’re going to come out here and fight your way through us after you kill them? You won’t get two steps before someone blows off your head!”
Was this the hill I wanted to die on?
Stepping away from the window, I turned to look into the eyes of my uncle and his two brats, and a renewed sense of rage shot through me.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Sure, I could take out these three, but Nathaniel and Maddie would still be breathing in and out. They’d probably be featured in all the news. Hell, they might even be guests on the Dr. Phil show or something equally pathetic, where they could cry and talk about how they’d tried to help me. Protect me.
Fury was like acid in my stomach.
“I’m here because Nathaniel needs to pay for what he did!” I screamed at the woman who’d spoken to me. I wished I could see her. I wished I knew which one she was. But I didn’t dare even peek through the curtains.
“He’ll pay, Cameron,” the woman said.
She was lying, though. Everyone lied.
“Who are you, again?”
There wasn’t even a pause. “I’m Special Agent Winter Black with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’ve been talking to your father, Cameron. That’s why I’m here. Because I know what he’s done.”
I walked toward the window again, desperate to take a peek. It was a trick. I didn’t dare.
“What did he say?” I hated myself for wanting to know, but the question was out of my mouth before I could stuff it back.
“Nathaniel’s going to prison for the rest of his life,” the agent shot back. “You want him to suffer? Well, he’s going to. Under the Felony Murder Rule, he’s just as culpable for Peyton Hoesch’s death as you are. He’ll be tried for first degree murder.”
I wracked my brain, trying to remember what the Felony Murder Rule was from my pre-law classes. Was the woman right? Or was it wishful thinking or yet another lie? Would the powers that be charge Nathaniel using the Felony Murder Rule? The man was a state supreme court judge, and his pockets were deep. A trial would be an uphill battle for the prosecution.
The silence dragged on as I considered all the options. After a few minutes had passed, the woman yelled, “Cameron, are you still there?”
“If you don’t kill me today, then the government will just stick a needle in my arm a few years from now!” The anger had returned with a vengeance. Good. Anger was useful.
“Cameron?”
I whirled around at the sound of my uncle’s voice. I’d almost forgotten that he and the brats were here. How could I have forgotten that? Was that part of the trick? Distraction?
“What?” I screamed and leveled the gun at the man. The girls at his side tried to scream, but the gags in their mouths kept the sounds at bay.
David Arkwell looked like he was about to shit his pants. “Keep me and let the girls go.”
I rolled my eyes, the request doing nothing but making me angrier. But…he also had a point. I needed to give a little to get a little. I looked into my cousins’ big blue eyes. Besides, this could be fun.
“Which one?”
My uncle blinked. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean choose. You have to choose which girl to save.”
My cousins began to cry harder, both of them hugging their father tighter, muffled words getting lost in the gags’ material.
I laughed out loud, slapping my thigh at my uncle’s expression. “Come on, David. Which of these little bitches is your favorite?”
David tried to hold his daughters closer, but the rope I’d bound him with limited the movements. In two long strides, I was on top
of them, holding the gun at fourteen-year-old Pillar’s head. The girl froze, a long whine issuing past the gag while her sister and father began screaming.
“Stop!” David yelled, and tried to actually kick at me.
This was fun.
“Not her?” I asked, yelling to be heard over the screams. Even muffled, they were giving me a headache. I turned the gun on Paige. “How about this one?”
David kicked me again, and I brought the butt of the automatic rifle down on his knee, smiling as it gave a satisfying crack. The older man howled.
“Cameron! Cameron! What’s going on?”
It was the FBI agent from outside. I ignored her. This was simply too much fun.
“Choose, you bastard!” I screamed, bringing the gun down again. “My daddy has a favorite and I’m sure you do too. Tell me. Tell them! They have a right to know!”
Red-hot pain ripped through my arm, and the gun almost dropped from my numb hand.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
More pain. This time in my shoulder and back. The impact spun me around until I was facing the window again and saw the bullet holes through the curtains.
I dropped to the floor, screaming from the pain.
It was chaos.
Girls screaming. David yelling. The lady from the FBI saying something I couldn’t understand.
“Stop shooting,” I cried over the madness, crawling over to hide behind a couch. “Stop!”
“Cameron! Tell me what’s happening in there. I need to know what’s happening, or my men are coming in and they will take you down.” There was a pause, then, “It doesn’t have to end like this.”
There was blood everywhere. My blood.
The very sight of it made me sick, and although I thought I was ready to die a few minutes ago…I wasn’t.
I just wasn’t.
“I want my dad.”
I hated myself the minute the words left my mouth.
The breath was billowing in and out of Winter’s lungs, even though her feet hadn’t moved an inch. Things had gone to hell within a few moments, and she still wasn’t sure what had gone so wrong.
