“Ah-huh… where’s that cocky-ass attitude now?”
Vance sat in the passenger seat of Lumis’s old maroon four-door, his arms folded, his eyes pensive as they glared out the window.
Lumis drove past the shops on the main road, smirking and glancing over at him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lumis chuckled. “Nobody answered the door at Joseph’s house, which left us with nothing to go on. You’d have to be Jesus Christ incarnated to be able to track him without a scent to follow.”
“College,” Vance murmured, a thought occurring to him. “He’s a college frat boy.”
Lumis glimpsed between him and the windshield as he drove. “Yeah. So?”
“So… maybe Ari actually crossed his path at some point,” Vance sighed. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that…”
“Ohhh… and she’s at a college party,” Lumis remembered. “Maybe—”
He was interrupted by a sudden noise, his smartphone ringing and vibrating against his chest. Lumis reached into his coat, driving with one hand and answering the phone call with the other.
“Yeah?”
Lumis drove in silence for nearly a full minute, listening as someone yammered quickly into his ear. Vance then turned his head, eyeing him strangely, seeing that Lumis’s expression was growing steadily darker.
“Gotcha,” the detective uttered, his tone grave. “Be there in a sec.”
Lumis hung up and stuffed the phone away, sighing deeply and wearing a heavy grimace. Then, he made a turn, driving off the main road and suddenly heading toward the east side of town.
Vance stared at him. “What? What happened?”
Lumis let out another sigh, glaring into the windshield and tightening his grasp on the wheel.
“Well…” he mumbled. “Good news is… I found out where Joseph Wick is. Bad news is… he’s definitely not gonna do any talking now.”
Ariella felt as if years could’ve been passing her by, standing rooted to the spot and gazing into the bloodstained pool.
People were running and screaming in all directions, some flooding into the house while others darted across the yard, leaping over fences and peeling out in their vehicles. The sounds of car engines, horrified yelling, and distant police sirens echoed from every direction, and as the area around the pool began to vacate, time seemed to merge together in one strange blur, and Ariella remained eerily still, staring down at Joseph’s floating body and wearing a vacant visage.
“Ari! Ari …!”
Someone was yelling near her—Ariella’s head managed to turn, seeing that Arkus was shaking her arm almost violently, looking more urgent than she’d ever seen him before.
“Oy!” he yelled again, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “C’mon—we need to go !”
Ariella couldn’t speak, and she felt as if her legs wouldn’t cooperate.
Arkus backed away, snatching up several pieces of clothing, his and hers both—as he was still damp and shirtless, wearing only his soaked boxers. He’d leaped out of the pool the moment he’d spotted the body, much like everyone else had. It only happened seconds ago, but to Ariella, every second of the surreal moment seemed to stretch into an eternity.
“Ari—stop looking at that,” Arkus demanded, grasping her arm and yanking her away. “We need to go now …!”
Finally, he managed to tear her gaze from the lifeless Joseph; Arkus kept a tight hold of her, dragging her into the house and fighting through the panicking crowd. It all happened in a rapid blur, frightful people hollering and crying, the kitchen and living room whizzing by Ariella’s view as Arkus struggled to reach the front door.
Then—someone grabbed Arkus abruptly, halting them both.
Arkus and Ariella spun around to see Jaxson, wide-eyed and mortified—Tammy, Zane, and Lucy standing close behind him.
“Dude—what happened?!” Jaxson yelled over the noise. “We just got out of the pool when—”
“Bloke got killed—we need to go,” Arkus explained quickly, practically hopping in place, and he grabbed Jaxson with his free hand, forcing him and Ariella toward the front door.
The six of them spilled out of the house, various other partyers doing the same. Many of them sprinted across the lawn or fumbled down the driveway. Some of the more sober party-goers were trying to drag their drunken friends toward their vehicles, but others simply ran off and left their friends behind.
Ariella and Arkus stumbled to a stop after skidding off the porch, their friends close at their heels—and both of them watched with mouths hanging agape, flashes of red and blue illuminating the night, as police cars were rolling onto the scene from both ends of the street. In the center of them all was a dark maroon four-door, which had just been parked on the curb across the yard—and Vance and Lumis were marching away from the car, police rushing past them and entering the house.
Vance spotted Ariella and Arkus, his expression hardening.
Lumis glanced between them, then led Vance farther across the yard, approaching Ariella and her friends.
“Did any of you see what happened?” the detective inquired.
“No,” Jaxson and Tammy said in unison, shaking their heads.
“Nah—I just turned around and saw that bloke floating upside-down,” Arkus reported. “I know he got killed, but I dunno how.”
“Me and her were going back inside when it happened,” Zane said, motioning to Lucy. “None of us saw anyth—”
“I did,” Ariella said without thinking.
Instantly, everyone’s eyes locked onto her, their expressions intense. Vance’s stare was particularly disturbed, his visage severe.
“All right—all right, I’m gonna make sure the crime scene is blocked off and make the calls,” Lumis said, stepping toward the house and pointing at his partner. “Vance—take their statements, and if you see Chelsea Mendez, don’t let her leave.”
Vance nodded, and Lumis marched off, vanishing into the house.
There was a brief pause after the detective’s departure, an air of shock and severity in the atmosphere. Many of the partyers and vehicles were gone now, and most of the police were inside, leaving Vance, Ariella, and all of Ariella’s friends standing alone in the front yard.
“So… this is the famous Vance Callaghan,” Zane spoke up, trying to break the tension. “About time we met you, even under shitty circumstances…”
“Zane—don’t,” Lucy whimpered, her expression riddled with despair. “Someone just died.”
“What… I have to give him a moment of silence?” Zane griped. “Dude was an asshole—”
Tammy smacked him on the arm, making him fall silent again.
Jaxson and Tammy traded troubled glances, as did Ariella and Arkus. Vance’s gaze seemed to be shifting from person to person, reading each of them individually and almost invasively, his eyes landing on Arkus last.
Arkus inhaled heavily, only just realizing he was standing before Ariella’s father, whom he’d never met before. Yet, here he was, shirtless, no pants, and still clasping onto Ariella’s wrist. He gulped and slowly let go of her.
Ariella took a deep breath, and instantly, Vance’s attention fixated on his daughter once more.
“Nobody was… I mean… nobody else was really watching,” Ariella mumbled, her head light with shock, feeling as if she was living a hazy dream. “Joseph was right across the pool from me… and him and his buddies were taking shots before they jumped in the pool. Then, right when it was Joseph’s turn… someone came up behind him… and slashed his throat.”
The atmosphere of grim severity seemed to intensify following these words, Tammy frowning and covering her mouth, Lucy’s eyes watering. Arkus and Jaxson both watched Ariella with dark expressions, and Vance gently placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
“Ari,” he said, his voice softening in a way it rarely ever did. “What did he look like?”
Ariella swallowed, gnawing her bottom lip and sighing.
“I don’t know, he… he had a black trench coat, and a hat, and long hair… and…” she paused, replaying the horrific scene in her mind. “He had a long… curved… blade. It wasn’t a knife, it… looked like a big crooked saw, or something…”
Vance slowly nodded, turning to the others. “Any of you have anything to add?”
They all shook their heads.
“No… like we said, we didn’t notice until he fell in the pool and started bleeding everywhere,” Arkus told him. “I was in the pool when it happened. That’s why I’m, ah… not… dressed…”
“Okay. You all can go home,” Vance dismissed them.
They nodded, Jaxson marching off with Tammy and Zane close behind her. Lucy hesitantly followed them, swallowing a sob and wiping her eyes. Arkus was the last to join them, glancing over his shoulder and giving Ariella a final glance before strolling away.
Vance placed a hand on Ariella’s back, gently leading her to the porch and motioning for her to sit. She sank down and sat on the edge of the concrete porch, releasing a stressed breath and leaning over her legs, resting her chin on her arms and staring forward emptily.
“Everything’s gonna be all right,” Vance told her, patting her head.
“I know,” Ariella sighed.
Just when Vance was about to go inside and search for Lumis, the detective appeared in the doorway again, holding his phone and marching onto the porch.
“Fucking mess out back—I need your eyes, Vance, but it’s grisly,” Lumis told him. “What did the kids say—?”
“You need to send the cops out,” Vance instructed. “Have them fan out across the area and search for a guy in a black overcoat and wearing a hat, long hair, possibly carrying a long curved blade. Joseph’s throat was slashed, and the killer couldn’t have gotten far.”
Lumis gave him a long, intense stare.
Vance wore the same profound expression, both of them thinking along the same lines now—as the two of them had only ever encountered a throat-slashed victim like this once before.
And, while Vance and Lumis worked to control the crime scene and send out the police—Ariella remained on Chelsea’s front porch for a long while, resting her head on her knees and closing her eyes, a deep tiredness weighing on her—as well as a heavy sense of grim, strange, and disturbing deja-vu.
In the weeks following the murder of Joseph Wick—the town was rife with vibrant chatter about the incident.
The story covered every front page and dominated every local news station on TV. Despite the efforts of the police, the Cutthroat Killer was still on the loose—and, while Vance and Lumis questioned people and followed loose leads, Ariella stayed indoors.
It was strange; the event haunted her dreams and loomed over her every waking thought, the image of Joseph’s final moment lingering in her mind like a storm cloud.
She felt as if she was on autopilot, wandering into the kitchen and fashioning her meals, sitting on the couch, watching TV and playing around on her laptop. Every movement seemed empty and instinctual, every minor routine dull and zombielike, her thoughts somber and dwelling on the death she witnessed weeks ago. In all this time, she prided herself on kicking her antisocial habits and finally enjoying her life—but, the moment she decided to indulge in her first night of partying, something major and horrific happened, stealing away the joy of it all.
It wasn’t as if she particularly mourned Joseph Wick—she didn’t know him, after all—but death was never pleasant, especially not the way Ariella saw it. Joseph was young, about Ariella’s age, and he seemed incredibly full of life mere seconds before it was all snatched away from him. The more she thought of it, the less sense it made to her; she couldn’t understand why such a dark and terrible thing had to happen all the sudden, ripping someone’s life away for seemingly no reason. In fact, she found herself dwelling on a time far gone, thinking of the last time she felt herself mulling over this insistently disturbing thought after seeing a grisly murder.
Ariella lay on the couch, staring lazily into the TV and thinking of the past.
When she was eight years old, her foster father was shot and killed in front of her. True, the Joseph instance was different—Ariella didn’t know Joseph, though she did know and love Eddie—but she couldn’t help but feel a similar sense of nausea in the pit of her stomach. After all, she knew what it was like to watch someone die with no way to stop it.
But she never expected to relive that same experience again.
And now—much like all those years ago—Ariella was hiding inside, rarely talking to anyone and remaining hidden in the safety of isolation. Her only contact with her friends was texting in their online chat room through her phone, and almost every time she spoke to them lately, her friends would ask if she wanted to hang out, and she’d always turn them down, saying she was busy or wasn’t in the mood.
Truthfully, she very much wanted to see her friends again. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion that Arkus’s charming accent and fun-loving demeanor would cheer her up in a heartbeat. Quite honestly, she wasn’t sure why she felt so insistent about detaching right now…
Ariella lay still in the living room, watching a horror movie and snacking on a bag of chips that lay crookedly on her stomach. After a while, her phone began to make several pinging noises. She ignored it for a bit, but after the seventh one, she sighed and pulled out the phone, checking the messages in the chat room.
Tammy Larson: we need a movie night guys
Jaxson Marcus: where we goin 2night?
Tammy Larson: Lucy’s still at work, she cant go anywhere until after 5
Arkus Faulkner: Zane doesn’t wanna hang out either. Don’t care :>
Jaxson Marcus: Just the three of us?
Arkus Faulkner: @Ariella Callaghan Oy, you free today? You gotta quit blowing us off Ari :D
Tammy Larson: shes not gonna hang out with us
Ariella let out a deep cloud of breath, feeling exhausted by the mere idea of entertaining her friends. Part of her wanted to see them, but another part of her longed to remain lying here, unburdened by everything in the outside world. She inhaled, assessed her thoughts, and typed out her response in the chat room.
Ariella Callaghan: I don’t feel like going out today, you guys…
Tammy Larson: told you. ugh. I miss my girlfriend dude :/
Jaxson Marcus: We seriously do need a movie night
Arkus Faulkner: Aye… I like that idea, Jax. We don’t hafta go out to have a movie night, ya know ;)
Ariella released another sigh, her eyes landing on Arkus’s last message. It seemed he would try to convince her no matter what she said.
Just when Ariella lifted her thumbs to reply—she heard a knock at the front door.
Pausing, she twisted around on the couch, squinting at the door strangely. Her father was out with Lumis, and he didn’t plan to be home anytime soon—and beyond that, Lumis never knocked when he arrived with Vance.
For nearly a full minute, Ariella merely stared at the door, feeling suddenly anxious.
Ping.
She jumped.
Ariella shook her head, instantly feeling foolish for growing so nervous over nothing. She checked her phone, and the latest message was another one from Arkus.
Arkus Faulkner: Knock knooooock
Ariella stared at the message, scoffing and laughing in disbelief. She leaped up and patted her hair down, swiping away crumbs from her tank top before opening the front door.
On her porch stood Arkus, wearing his signature leather jacket, brandishing his childlike grin, and holding up his phone with the messenger app perfectly visible. Jaxson and Tammy were standing just behind him, holding several grocery bags of drinks and junk food.
“Let me in !” Jaxson pleaded, jumping in place. “These are heavy and my freaking hands are peeling off…”
“’Allo,” Arkus smiled, marching past Ariella and sauntering proudly into the house.
“Hey—you have good internet, right?” Tammy asked, following her friends inside. “Because there’s this new Netflix movie I wanna watch.”
“Jesus… what’re you guys doing?” Ariella asked them, closing the door and giving each of her friends an incredible look. “You never barged into my house before.”
“Well—we never had to save you from your own damn depression before,” Tammy snarked, smirking and placing the bags on the kitchen table. “I can’t believe I remembered where your house was. I saw you and your dad coming home from shopping once. I drove right by when you and him were walking up to the house. I waved and you didn’t wave back. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember… you only bring it up every chance you get,” Ariella replied with a laugh. “I wasn’t looking at the road when you drove by. Get over it…”
“Hey, Ari—I’m really seriously curious, but I also don’t wanna be an asshole,” Jaxson remarked, rolling his wrists after finally releasing his heavy assortment of bags. “None of us have really talked about it yet.”
“Jax,” Tammy said seriously, shooting him a warning sort of look. “We just came here to eat and watch movies. So shut up and be happy.”
“Yeah, okay, I know—but it’s been like a month,” Jaxson told her, nodding sideways. “I’m over it. I bet she’s over it, too.”
“I’m right here ,” Ariella uttered. “Why’re you talking about me like I’m not here?”
“Oy—we can talk about it, or we can repress and ignore it,” Arkus shrugged, grabbing a box of doughnuts and meandering toward the couch. “Either way works, and they both sound healthy to me. Whatever you want, Ari.”
Arkus extended a leg over the back of the couch, leaping over it and sliding coolly into the cushions, landing in a perfect sitting position. Tammy and Jaxson stood at the kitchen table, rifling through the grocery bags and pulling out food and drinks, and Ariella simply sighed, leaning on the back of the couch and wearing a faint smirk.
Her friends had never arrived at her house unannounced before, and they’d never expressed such worry for her, either. For the most part, her friends were just the misfits who liked to goof off with her—but she didn’t know they cared about her this much. She wasn’t sure how to react, though she felt touched that they even bothered.
“Okay… what do you wanna know?” Ariella asked, cocking her head at Jaxson.
He paused, his thick brows raising at her interestingly. Tammy continued sifting through the groceries, her eyes flickering upward and shifting between Jaxson and Ariella. Arkus peered over the back of the couch, eyeing them curiously from behind.
“You, uh… you sure?” Jaxson asked uncertainly. “You’re the only one who saw the whole thing, but… I don’t wanna ask if you’re not ready to talk about it.”
“Go ahead,” Ariella assured. “It’s been a month, like you said. We all oughta be over it now.”
“Okay,” Jaxson muttered, nodding and stepping around the table, sliding his hands into the pockets of his blue flannel jacket. “Well… what exactly did you see? I know you told the police, but… we don’t know anything. The story on the news didn’t cover any details, not even the throat-slashing part.”
“Well… you were there when I told my dad,” Ariella replied. “It was a guy in a black overcoat, big hat, long hair, and a curved blade in his hand. I didn’t even have time to react… I just looked up and saw it happen.”
“Okay… but what did it feel like?” Jaxson wondered, inching closer to her. “When you saw…”
“Jax,” Arkus muttered grimly.
“What? She doesn’t have to answer me,” Jaxson told him. “I’m just curious. This shit’s been on my mind for weeks, and I can’t help but wonder. I know it’s tragic, but it’s freaking fascinating . So sue me.”
“You need to lose your podcast instincts, mate,” Arkus advised. “Not everybody wants to be interviewed about everything.”
“Well, yeah, true… but it would make a damn good story for a podcast,” Tammy commented, tilting her head thoughtfully and snacking on a doughnut. “Especially considering the backstory of this killer.”
Everyone paused, their eyes all turning to Tammy.
Tammy chewed and swallowed her last bite of doughnut, slowly raising her head and realizing everyone was staring at her.
“What?” she mumbled.
“What backstory?” Arkus asked, folding his arms over the back of the couch and narrowing his eyes at her. “You know who the killer is?”
“No… nobody knows who he is,” Tammy informed. “But a lot of people remember the last time he killed someone. Fifteen years ago, some lady got killed the exact same way, throat slashed all to hell. They never found the killer—but the way Joseph died, it’s definitely the same person.”
“Oh my God,” Jaxson exhaled, his eyes igniting with a sudden spark. “This is so cool. This is so interesting. This is so …”
“It’s fucked up , Jax,” Tammy stated, leaning on the table and glaring at him. “This is the only person who gets away with murder in Gates Mill. It’s fucking scary.”
“Yeah, but that’s exciting ,” Jaxon grinned at her. “I know it’s a touchy topic—but you were right. It seriously would make good content for a podcast.”
“So… what… you wanna start a new podcast about murder?” Tammy asked.
Jaxson shrugged and made a halfhearted nod. “Well, yeah, kinda. I need a new theme if I’m gonna start a new podcast. But this would be… it’d be more like a news thing. We could cover all the recent topics in town, we could have different segments for story-telling, and we could speculate about this killer. The theme would revolve around the Cutthroat Killer, but we would cover other stuff on the side, just to fill all the time. We could also have segments just for fun, just to take the edge off the seriousness. Whatcha think?”
Tammy, Ariella, and Arkus all exchanged thoughtful glances.
“Well… it sounds fun,” Arkus shrugged. “But I’m still gonna be in the boxing club once school starts back up… not to mention all the extra drama class stuff. When are we gonna have time to record this podcast?”
“We can find the time,” Jaxson promised. “I always recorded once a week on my least-busy day. If you guys are gonna be on my new podcast, then we’re gonna have to schedule it to fit around all of our classes.”
“We all have the same major,” Tammy reminded them. “We’re all gonna be taking psychology, so… making a schedule to fit all of us should be easy.”
“What about that sorority stuff?” Jaxson asked. “That girl, Chelsea—and her friend, Maria—they’re both gonna try to rope you into that sorority again. You promised them you’d give it a try this year. How are you gonna get out of it?”
“I’unno,” Tammy shrugged and tossed her hands up. “Last I heard, Chelsea’s still in the mental hospital. I doubt she’s gonna be back in school this year. I just have to worry about Maria and her friends—but I can always just knock their teeth.”
“Yeah… that Maria girl asked me to join the sorority once,” Ariella muttered. “Which is weird, considering I never talk to anyone else…”
“She wants you to join because you’re my bestie,” Tammy replied curtly, leaning on the table again and twirling the straw of her fountain drink around. “ And because she wants as many people as possible to work on the sorority house for free during Hell Week. Those people are downright evil sometimes.”
“Oy, Ari,” Arkus said, staring at Ariella intensely. “You okay with doing this podcast thing?”
Everyone fell silent, focusing on her and waiting for a response.
Ariella paused to think for a moment, sighing and giving them a nod. “Yeah, I’m cool with it. Honestly, it sounds fun.”
“ Yesss !” Jaxson exclaimed, beaming and grasping Ariella’s arms. “Oh man, and your dad is helping to investigate this whole thing—you can get us some inside info!”
“Um… yeah, I guess,” Ariella mumbled reluctantly. “But I can’t ask him too many questions, or he’ll probably get suspicious. He’s really perceptive. Almost to a scary extent…”
“Why’s your dad paling around with the detective all the time, anyhow?” Arkus wondered. “Your dad’s not a cop. How long has he been wandering around with Lumis?”
“Since before he adopted me,” Ariella answered. “Lumis likes to use a private investigator on the job so he can do things that the cops can’t legally do. Plus, my dad’s super perceptive, like I said. He’s like a super useful tool for the police force to use.”
“Really?” Tammy said. “Does he work with the other cops too?”
“Not really… I mean, he talks to them and helps them out with cases, but Lumis is the only one he hangs around with,” Ariella told them all. “There’re a couple of people who don’t like him. Some people think he’s crazy… but most of them are cool with him.”
“Bloke’s intimidating,” Arkus murmured. “Of course people’re wary of him…”
“He’s not really that intimidating,” Ariella assured him, remembering Arkus’s first impression of Vance. “The first time you saw him was right after a murder. He was in a dead serious mood then… but he’s not always like that.”
“He strikes me as the protective type,” Tammy smirked coyly, narrowing her eyes at Ariella and Arkus. “If you two ever start bumpin’ uglies, then Vance is gonna hunt you down and skin you alive. There’s gonna be an Arkus pelt rug laying on this floor.”
Ariella and Arkus both took back, glimpsing at each other and quickly looking away. The two of them chuckled and shook their heads, trying to shrug off the remark, though Tammy and Jaxson were grinning smugly at them now.
“Come on—don’t laugh it off,” Tammy laughed. “It’s so freaking obvious. You two are goddamn lusting after each other—”
“You’re one to talk,” Ariella quipped, smirking and rounding on her. “You’re chasing after Richard Hurts all the damn time!”
“ What? !” Arkus and Jaxson both exclaimed.
Tammy glared at Ariella, who returned her stare with a snarky smirk.
“Richard Hurts? The quarterback? ” Jaxson breathed in astonishment. “Since when do you go out with fucking Chads? ”
Arkus, unlike Jaxson, didn’t know who Richard Hurts was—but he was wearing a wide, toothy grin now.
“I’m not going out with him,” Tammy said defensively. “I just kinda like him.”
“Richard Hurts,” Arkus muttered, slowly rising and standing from the couch. “Richard Hurts. His name… is Richard… freaking… Hurts .”
“So?” Tammy griped. “What’s wrong with that name?”
“The short version of Richard is Dick,” Arkus snickered. “His name is Dick Hurts !”
Instantly, everyone erupted with laughter, all except for Tammy, whose head dropped as she sank deeper into the kitchen table.
“Thanks,” Tammy grumbled. “You ruined my crush. You ruined it. Thank you so much…”
Airana was beaming away now, suddenly lifted from her dreary saddened mood. It seemed a visit from her friends was exactly what she needed.
After a bit more conversation, all of them gathered in the living room with their junk food and beverages, and they spent the majority of the day watching movies with the lights turned off. A few hours later, Zane and Lucy arrived as well—and, for the first time, Ariella enjoyed a whole day with her friends right here at home, hanging out in her house and joking around without a care in the world.
After questioning numerous clueless people and following many empty leads—today was the first day Vance and Lumis had a real chance of making progress.
The two of them waited around in the lobby of the police station, the cops working at their desks far behind the front counter, the dingy gray walls as old and unkempt as they always had been. Today was the day that Chelsea Mendez was being released from Jefferson Mental Institution, and according to Lumis’s recent phone call, Chelsea’s mother was bringing her straight to the police station for questioning. Vance and Lumis fought with the staff of the mental institution on a few occasions, but at the time, they wouldn’t allow anyone to speak to Chelsea. However, now that she was free, it was finally time to speak to her.
During the time they spent waiting in the lobby, the two of them saw the chief of police wander by a few times, marching to and from the back hallway. The chief of police was a burly bearded man named Henry Hawkins, a friendly sort of man who always dressed more like a Texas Ranger than a police officer, complete with the cowboy hat and the huge revolver on his hip. Lumis squinted at him from afar, hoping that Chief Hawkins wouldn’t mind Vance’s presence in the interrogation room. Hawkins was on decent terms with Vance, and he occasionally looked the other way when Lumis bent the rules. Hopefully, that trend would continue right now.
Before long, two blonde women entered the lobby—both of them thin, one middle-aged, the other young and timid. Lumis greeted Chelsea and her mother kindly, and he and Vance led Chelsea down the nearest gray hallway. Hawkins didn’t seem interested in what they were doing, and the three of them marched into a small square room, a metal table in the middle, a reflective one-way window on the left wall.
Vance and Lumis sat across from Chelsea, who was cradling her arms, frowning deeply, and staring downward with a vacant, emotionless gaze.
There was a moment of silence before anyone decided to speak.
Vance and Lumis exchanged hesitant glances.
“We know this is probably very difficult for you,” Lumis said gently, cupping his hands atop the table’s surface. “But… we need to ask you some difficult questions, Chelsea.”
Chelsea nodded quietly at the table, saying nothing.
“Did Joseph Wick have any enemies?” Lumis inquired.
Chelsea shrugged weakly. “I don’t know…”
“Do you know anyone who would want to do him harm? Did he break any of his fraternity rules? Fraternities usually have steep penalties for rule-breaking.”
“No, not that I know of… and none of the penalties in Xi Phi Beta involve slashing people’s throats open…”
“Well, that’s a good point,” Lumis nodded. “But someone clearly had a grudge against him.”
There was a long, tense pause. Chelsea peeked upward for a split second, briefly meeting their eyes before looking down again.
“Chelsea,” Vance said severely. “You know Joseph Wick was a suspect in the murder for James Mendez. If anyone in your family actually believed that he actually drowned his own son, that gives every member of the family motive to attack him.”
“And… unfortunately… that includes you,” Lumis determined.
Instantly, Chelsea’s head shot upward. This time, she remained perked upright, staring at the two men in distraught surprise.
“I’m sorry, but we do have to ask,” Lumis said sincerely. “Did you believe that he drowned your son in the bathtub? Do you know if he was guilty of a murder? Or did you strongly suspect him to be guilty?”
Chelsea glimpsed between them nervously, her eyes widened with fear.
“Am—am I a suspect? ” she squeaked.
Lumis opened his mouth to reply, but he hesitated.
So, Vance spoke up for him.
“The severity of the lethal wound on Joseph’s throat was incredibly deep for such a quick wound. It even severed some vocal cords,” he told her. “A sawed blade is a difficult thing to kill someone with in a single quick strike, but it was done with a lot of strength and power, almost savagely so—which indicates it was a male attacker, as females usually cut their victims in shallow slices or stabs. It’s unlikely that you’re the killer, and we know that—so don’t worry. Just tell us what you know.”
Lumis resisted the urge to cringe. Vance had a habit of speaking too bluntly at times, and the look of grave disgust on Chelsea’s face was a clear indicator that he’d crossed that line. Her lip began to tremble, her eyes watering, and she folded her arms over the table, sinking downward and hiding her face behind her tight pink sleeves.
“Sorry, the uh… the details are a bit graphic,” Lumis told the girl. “But we need to know. Did you believe that Joseph was responsible for your son’s death?”
“I d…” Chelsea choked, looking up as tears streamed down her face. “I d-don’t know… I didn’t wanna believe he’d do that… but he… I j… I jus…”
“You’ve noticed him drifting away,” Vance murmured. “Haven’t you?”
Chelsea nodded and wiped her eyes. “The more he got involved in his frat buddies… the more he just… acted like a macho prick all the time…”
“Did he ever act violently toward you or your son?” Lumis queried.
“S-sort of,” Chelsea whimpered. “He didn’t beat me or anything, he jus… he threw a fit and wouldn’t let me leave the house after the last fight we had. He’d grab me and shake me around whenever we got in fights. He was always complaining that he felt trapped, and he always ran off to his frat buddies every chance he got…”
“He wasn’t prepared for the responsibility of managing a family,” Vance assessed. “So he lashed out.”
Chelsea nodded again, her expression warping into one of utter despair.
“Th… the last time I saw James,” she breathed, her voice weaker and shakier than ever. “I… I j-just… I finally convinced Joseph to watch the baby for once. I went out to dinner for my mom’s birthday, and… when I came back… th-the cops… were everywhere… and James… James was just… gone …”
Chelsea planted her hands over her face, hunching over and sobbing softly into her palms.
Vance and Lumis both grimaced, watching her uncomfortably for a moment.
“I-I knew he was stupid,” Chelsea sputtered pitifully. “I knew he didn’t pay attention all the time… so… I figured James drowning was just an accident. I knew Joseph probably just forgot to check up on him in the bath… but then… then we… after it was over, he just… he just didn’t even care …!”
Vance and Lumis traded eyes.
“What do you mean, he didn’t care?” Lumis asked.
“I mean… he was really quiet for about a day… and then… then he just went out partying with his friends like nothing happened!” Chelsea cried. “He didn’t even care that James was gone!”
Once more, Vance and Lumis swapped glimpses.
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Lumis asked her.
Chelsea was quiet for nearly a whole minute, sniffing repeatedly and wiping tears away.
“I… I promise… I swear to you… I didn’t lay a hand on my boyfriend,” she said insistently, trying to strengthen her voice through the whimpers. “I was in the house with my friend Maria when he died. You can call her and ask. But I… I…”
She paused, cleared her throat, and gave them both a cold glare.
“I don’t care that he’s dead,” Chelsea growled in a faint, angry hiss. “All he did was bitch and whine about having a son. He never cared about James… and I… I wasn’t there, and I didn’t see it… but I know him, and I know he probably killed my son. All he wanted was to run off and party all the time. He deserved what he got—so I hope he’s burning in Hell right now.”
Vance and Lumis stared at her, not knowing how to respond.
After a moment of awkward tension, Lumis gave her a conclusive nod, standing from his seat and motioning for her to do the same.
“Thank you for your time,” Lumis disclosed, reaching over the table and shaking Chelsea’s hand. “Go home and rest. We’ll call you with follow-up questions if we need to.”
Chelsea nodded and stepped away, opening the door and marching out of the room.
After the large metal door swung shut, Lumis pocketed his hands, spinning around and facing his PI.
Vance was leaning back in his chair, his arms folded and his face riddled with deep, intense thought. He sighed heavily, glancing up and meeting the detective’s gaze.
“She’s not it,” Lumis remarked.
“I know,” Vance mumbled, running a hand down his face. “Deep wound, alibi, complete mismatch from the description… she’s definitely not.”
“But she seems happy that her boyfriend is gone,” Lumis commented. “She seems convinced that Joseph killed their son.”
“Which is likely the motive for whoever did kill him,” Vance murmured thoughtfully. “But Chelsea’s the only person we’ve spoken to who knew him on an intimate level. She’s the only one who’s utterly convinced that he’s guilty. But if she’s not it, then…”
They both fell silent, another wave of tension looming over them.
“We know who it is,” Lumis said grimly.
“Cutthroat,” Vance agreed, his tone darkening.
The two of them pondered on the event fifteen years ago. Vance’s long-term memory wasn’t nearly as sharp as his perception skills, but he never forgot the one that got away.
“I need to go home,” Vance realized, suddenly standing upright. “I’m gonna look through the old papers from back then. I can’t remember enough off the top of my head, and I need to find some connections.”
“Between Mary Goldwater and Joseph Wick?” Lumis asked. “Joseph was about ten years old when Mary Goldwater was killed, and the two of them aren’t connected in any way whatsoever. Believe me, I checked.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know—but there has to be something, something we’re missing,” Vance insisted, giving him a serious look. “The Cutthroat Killer targeted Mary for a reason—and he targeted Joseph for a reason, too. There has to be some common factor between the two.”
Lumis was about to reply, but Vance stormed past him, marching out of the room and leaving the police station.
The detective sighed as he watched him go.
For a long while thereafter—Vance simply drove around the town, racking his brain and overthinking to a maddening extent.
Fifteen years ago, the halfway house owner, Mary Goldwater, was murdered for seemingly no reason—her throat slashed, frayed and jagged as if it was butchered by a sawed blade, identical to the wound that ended Joseph’s life. He couldn’t know why Mary was targeted, and he couldn’t fathom why the Cutthroat Killer had suddenly resurfaced to kill a random frat boy from Gates Mill University a decade and a half later. Vance couldn’t remember every detail of the Goldwater case, but he knew he ended up stumped at a dead end, and the Cutthroat Killer managed to elude him. Every time he thought about it, his teeth would clench, his expression hardening, his heart pounding angrily—and now, the same person had arisen from a fifteen-year disappearance, giving Vance a second chance to hunt him down.
By the time he returned home, it was nearly midnight, and all of Ariella’s friends had gone home for the evening.
Vance wandered into the house, shedding his overcoat and glancing at the living room.
Ariella was passed out on the couch, surrounded by an alarming amount of junk food and two-liters of soda, junk food, and abandoned fountain drinks left behind by her friends.
He gave her an odd look, then sighed, reaching over the back of the couch and gently shifting her bangs from her eyes.
After pausing to observe his daughter, he headed down the hallway.
Vance went to his bedroom, collapsing on his bed without flipping the lights on. The nightstand was covered in books, many of them themed with criminal studies and different aspects of psychology, and they all had empty coffee cups stacked on them. Half of his room was littered with discarded clothing due to an overflowing hamper and half of his dresser drawers sticking out, pouring socks and boxers. He sat up, taking the pill bottle from his nightstand, glaring at it, and setting it back down.
His mind began working up a storm.
Mary Goldwater—forty—three years old, the woman who was once famous for her community service and for turning her estate into a halfway house for the homeless—was murdered savagely fifteen years ago.
Why?
Who would kill her—and what did they have to do with Joseph Wick?
Every possible motive flooded through his head at light-speed.
“Greed, money, envy, no… that’s…not…”
He laid back, glaring into the ceiling and muttering to himself.
“Envy doesn’t make sense… family problems? Her whole family was involved with charities, just like her… no… not for the money… she didn’t have any money to offer… not until…”
A light went off in his mind.
Vance jolted up and slid to the other side of his bed, digging through the mountain of folders, newspapers, and magazines that he’d collected in all the years he’d spent working with Lumis. He dug through the papers, scattering them amok until he finally found what he was looking for, a newspaper from 2005. Yes, the killer might’ve killed Mary Goldwater to get his hands on her money—the money she received right before she died.
The newspaper read:
GOLDWATER TRAGEDY SURFACES AGAIN
Mary Goldwater, single mother and Gates Mill humanitarian, is facing yet another tragedy. Only three months ago, one of her dear friends, a homeless man named Branden Clarke, died of an apparent overdose inside of Goldwater’s home. Now, Goldwater is faced to endure loss once again, as her closest friend and co-beneficiary, Angela Lopez, has died in a car accident. “We didn’t think Branden even wanted to use,” says Ned Wilson, an inhabitant in the Goldwater home and close friend of Branden Clarke. “He was clean for almost four years when I met him. Now Angie’s gone… we never expected to lose two people just like that.”
Mary Goldwater had this to say: “I had no idea… no idea Angie would go like that. I just couldn’t prepare for it. I don’t know what to do. But… I’m going to do what I think she would’ve wanted.”
Now, neighbors say she plans to use what’s left of Branden and Angela’s insurance money, as well as her savings, to expand upon her home for the homeless.
“Why would she…?” Vance mumbled. “Expand upon her house… that doesn’t make sense, either. She had all her belongings on her when we found her. Her trunk was full of bags and suitcases… like she was skipping town…”
Perhaps the newspaper was wrong. Perhaps Mary didn’t use all that money to expand upon her halfway house. She planned to skip town, taking the money with her. But even if that was the case, why did the Cutthroat Killer target her? Did he know about the money? Did he steal it from her car before he fled the scene? And if that was his motive—what reason did he have to target Joseph Wick? Joseph certainly didn’t have that kind of money to offer. None of this added up.
“Why…?” Vance hissed under his breath, growing frustrated. “Why was she skipping town?”
If she was leaving Gates Mill, the local media certainly didn’t know about it at the time—and, it meant that Mary Goldwater had something to hide. Maybe some of her dirty laundry came back to haunt her, and the murder was the aftermath of something that her family, her friends, and the rest of the town was simply ignorant of. Something very few people knew about. Something she was running away from.
Vance pulled out his phone and dialed Lumis.
After four rings, he answered.
“Vance?” Lumis said. “It’s after midnight…”
“When Mary’s body was found, she did have cash in her car, right?” Vance inquired. “Did we ever do any deeper investigating at her estate? Was there something going on that made her wanna skip town?”
Vance heard a muffled yawn through the phone.
“Erm…” Lumis moaned tiredly. “Yeah. She had two backpacks… and she had a bunch of clothes covering up a pile of cash in each one. You don’t remember? You were there for that. You and I both worked that case. That was one of your first ones.”
“I know,” Vance told him. “I just couldn’t remember everything.”
“Right…”
“Was there something suspicious going on at her halfway house? Did we ever find anything?”
“Uh… nothing incriminating. You thought something was up, and you were ready to track her down. That’s how we ended up finding her body in the first place. You tracked her down.”
“I did?”
“Yes, Vance. The junkie that died in her house… you thought it was weird that he suddenly picked up a heroin habit after three years of sobriety.”
“It was four years of sobriety.”
“Oh, that you remember.”
“No, I’m reading the old newspaper. Mary Goldwater was the sole beneficiary of all her tenants’ insurance policies. After Angela died, Mary got her money as well as Branden’s.”
“Yeah, I remember that. She helped all the hobos set up insurance policies. She also helped them find jobs, get car insurance, get suitable clothes for interviews…”
“But she was reaping all the money after Branden and Angela died. The media was under the impression that she was expanding on her house with that money… but then, we found her leaving town with all that cash. Do you know what that means?”
Lumis went silent for a moment. He yawned again.
“Vance, it’s late. I thought we were gonna deal with this tomorrow…”
“It means she had something to hide,” Vance stated. “How did Angela end up in a car accident? How exactly did that happen?”
“Um… she was going down the interstate and her brakes stopped working.”
“Then it fits.” Vance sat up on his knees, the gears in his brain cranking faster than ever. “Someone could’ve sabotaged her vehicle. Listen—if Mary was responsible for killing the junkie, and if Angela found out about it, then that would’ve caused conflict. Right? Mary could’ve injected Branden while he was sleeping—quick way to chalk up some cash—and, if Angela found out, then she might’ve threatened to go public with that information. So, Mary decided to knock her off as well. And it’s perfect—perfect for someone who’s intelligent. Mary knew that nobody would suspect her. She had a reputation for being a humanitarian. She figured if she took off with the money, she would’ve been long gone before anyone had the chance to find any evidence against her. No one was suspecting her of any foul play… no one but me. God, it’s the perfect crime. Playing up this holier-than-thou personality, becoming famous in the community for helping people—no one would ever suspect her of killing the people she was helping. She had insurance on all of them for a reason. She’s just like every other greedy crook on the planet. She was just playing the long game to make some money—”
“Vance… breathe,” Lumis sighed. “That sounds completely insane.”
“Completely plausibly insane,” Vance replied. “Kinda like someone sawing Joseph’s throat in half. You can’t deny it just because it’s insane. We’ve seen insane before.”
Lumis let out a sleepy groan. “Okay… even if your wild-ass theories are right, what does it have to do with our man? What does it have to do with Joseph Wick? There’s still no connection.”
“But there is,” Vance knew. “I just can’t see it clearly yet… but knowing that she was invested in some shady business, that helps tremendously. That means someone would have a reason to kill her. It means she did die for a reason.”
“And what reason is that, Vance?”
“I don’t know… but she had it coming.”
Then—Vance’s eyes lit up like two blue flames just as the words escaped his mouth.
“She had it coming,” Vance repeated, his skull pulsating painfully as his thoughts whirled around his head as furiously as a tornado.
It all raced through his mind at once—the remark that one of Ariella’s friends made the night of the murder, calling Joseph an asshole—the way Chelsea seemed unhurt by the death of her own boyfriend—Joseph being the prime suspect for his son’s murder—it all tied together in one subtle, flawless way.
“She had it coming. She was manipulating people, killing people, stealing their money—she had it coming. Joseph Wick was neglecting his girlfriend, neglecting his son, drowned him in the tub—he had it coming, too. That’s it. That’s it. That’s the connection. That’s what the two have in common. They both had it coming. They both deserved it. They both…”
He stopped and grasped his head, feeling another dull pain.
“Vance?” Lumis’s voice echoed from the phone. “Hey, calm your shit. Take your meds.”
Vance didn’t care about the headache. He was onto something now, and that was an excellent start. The last time the Cutthroat Killer struck, he had absolutely nothing to go on—but now, he at least had a motive in mind.
“It’s a killer of justice.”
Vance lifted the phone to his ear again.
“The Cutthroat Killer is a killer of justice. He’s killing people who he believes deserve to die.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“No, but that’s what makes sense. That’s the only thing that does make sense. That has to be it… that has to be…”
“All right, Vance, that’s good… but we still don’t have any prime suspects. This guy’s been hiding in the shadows forever. It’s gonna be pretty damn hard to pinpoint his ass whether we have a motive established or not.”
Vance released a breath, instantly losing the motivation to ramble. He was doing so well, connecting the dots and making sense of something senseless… but Lumis was right. Without any real suspects, the hunt for the Cutthroat Killer would be as easy as tracking a ghost.
They were both silent for several seconds.
“Sorry,” Vance said conclusively. “I’ll let you get back to bed.”
“All right. We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Night.”
“Night.”
Vance snapped his old phone shut, gazing into the darkness, suddenly knowing everything that eluded him before. The Cutthroat Killer’s legacy had been revived in Gates Mill, but things were different this time. No, they didn’t have a name or a location—but they had a motive.
That might not have been enough for anyone else to go on—but Vance Callaghan would follow that scent directly to the Cutthroat Killer’s doorstep.