A day and a half passed by before Lumis obliged Vance’s request.
On Sunday—when Ariella and her friends had no classes to attend—they called Rodney and agreed to meet in the health wing of the university. Jaxson needed access to the podcast room so he could upload the first installment the Gates Mill Gate Keepers Podcast as planned. Once the podcast was uploaded—Ariella, Rodney, and the rest of the group all sat around the table, facing the computer and watching gleefully as the likes and comments skyrocketed. Jaxson took the liberty of reading many of the comments aloud, some serious, some critical, some complementary, and some downright hilarious. They spent the day relishing in their newfound fame, grinning, high-fiving, and feeling a great sense of accomplishment.
And all the while, miles away—Vance was pacing around inside his house, still racking his brain about all the matters at hand, new and old information colliding as he fervently tried to connect the issues together. He felt as if he was manufacturing a complicated mental spider web of information, and the slightest mistake or distraction would destroy the feeble web in an instant. It was a common habit of his.
Around one o’clock in the afternoon—at last—the front door opened, and a tired-looking Lumis drifted into the house, wearing his hat and overcoat and carrying a briefcase. He let out a groaning sigh, shut the front door, and placed his briefcase on the kitchen table, stopping and staring strangely at the PI.
Vance didn’t seem to notice his arrival just yet. He continued pacing up and down the clearing behind the couch, muttering to himself and drawing outlines of connected events in the air, moving his finger in several directions, almost as if he was creating the mental spider web right in front of his eyes, which only he could see.
Lumis stared intently at him. “Did you start popping double-doses of caffeine pills again…?”
Vance blinked and twisted halfway around, spotting Lumis and lowering his hand. “Where have you been? I called you two days ago.”
Lumis moaned and ran a hand down his face. “I know… I’ve been… long story.”
Vance’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting between the two obvious oddities—the hat and the briefcase, neither of which Lumis usually carried on his person.
“You’ve been talking to a lawyer outside of town,” he determined.
Lumis raised his brows at him interestingly.
“You only carry the briefcase when you have to deliver evidence or information to a lawyer, usually because of one of your cases,” Vance explained. “And you never wear the hat unless you leave town when it’s raining. I’m guessing Harbor County, since it’s raining there today.”
“Good boy,” Lumis sighed, sinking into a chair. “Good hound dog…”
“Why’d you see a lawyer in Harbor County?” Vance wondered.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lumis mumbled, sounding exhausted. “It has nothing to do with our job. Family stuff.”
“Oh.”
Vance sat across from him. The two of them were quiet for a few seconds, Lumis stroking his chin and eyeing him with intrigue from across the table.
“So… let’s talk,” the detective proposed. “And… well, why don’t you go ahead and explain that cryptic-ass message you left me.”
Vance gulped and nodded, giving Lumis a serious look.
“Turn your phone off,” Vance instructed. “And you… you’re not wearing a wire, are you?”
Lumis shot him a baffled stare. “Why the hell would I be—?”
“No—point taken—I’m being paranoid,” Vance realized, nodding and swatting the air. “But it’s important—it’s important that this information doesn’t leave the room.”
“Oh, no… no, God almighty, Vance, don’t do that,” Lumis grumbled, shaking his head and leaning on the table. “Every time you say that, I know you’re gonna tell me something that compromises my job. Again.”
“Well…” Vance nodded sideways. “The information doesn’t compromise your job. Just… my plan for using the information… might. Might not. I don’t know.”
Lumis eyed him. “Okay. Explain.”
“Let me ask you—if the police found out who the next target was, would they be obliged to act on it?” Vance inquired. “Would they be obligated to protect the suspected target?”
“Eh…” Lumis shrugged. “It… depends. The police can’t really act on hearsay, but… depending on the evidence at hand… then… yes, maybe. Under certain kinds of circumstances, the police would have to act.”
“All right. Now—what if I told you I had a somewhat vague idea of who the next target was?” Vance asked, lowering his voice despite that nobody was around to overhear.
Lumis gave him an odd squint. “I’d say you need to chill out on the caffeine pills.”
“Bill—listen.” Vance leaned forward, his expression intense. “I’m not a hundred percent sure on this, but I have a feeling I’m really onto something. Moreno Brunelli—the next target will be someone like him.”
Lumis replied with a long, vacant stare. “That’s not somewhat vague, Vance. That is… that is extremely vague.”
Vance took a deep breath and explained everything he’d heard from Arkus two nights ago. When he finished, the detective sat fully upright, glimpsing away and pondering on the issue.
“Okay… he’s a child-molester,” Lumis mumbled grimly. “So, if Cutthroat is killing ‘bad’ people, then… someone like Moreno Brunelli fits the bill.”
“Exactly,” Vance confirmed. “If Brunelli dies, then it confirms my theory. And if someone else dies, then you need to do an extensive background check on them—and if they turn out to be a dirt bag like Brunelli, then that will confirm my theory, too. I was actually considering seeking out even more high-profile people with a broken moral compass and making a list of them. If anyone on that list falls to Cutthroat—theory proven, right there.”
“All right… now, tell me this,” Lumis requested, facing him fully again and intertwining his hands. “Exactly what part of this conversation needs to be a secret? None of this is incriminating information. At all.”
“Bill,” Vance said. “If Cutthroat intends to kill Moreno Brunelli, or someone like Moreno Brunelli—then I intend to let him.”
A tense silence fell between the two of them following his words.
“ That’s the part that can’t leave this room,” Vance stated. “It’s just a hunch—but if I’m right, and if Cutthroat goes after someone like him, then I don’t want you warning anyone. I don’t want the cops to do a damn thing to protect ‘em.”
“Vance…” Lumis released a distressed breath, rubbing his head and closing his eyes. “I know… I get it. We’re both fathers. The idea of protecting a child-molester is…”
“It’s not just that,” Vance told him. “We need him to die.”
Lumis’s eyes flicked open, shooting over to Vance and narrowing with skepticism.
Vance maintained his serious stare. “We need Moreno Brunelli—or someone like Moreno Brunelli—to die.”
“Because we need your theory to be proven,” Lumis realized, exhaling another large sigh. “So we can give Cutthroat an official motive…”
“Right. It’s all speculation right now—but I know I’m right about this. We just need the proof,” Vance insisted. “It’s not like the world’s losing anyone worth a damn. We need someone to die in order to prove his motive—but the victim is just gonna be some child-molester, or something just as bad as a child-molester. Maybe another child-killer like Joseph Wick.”
“Vance,” Lumis said sternly. “That’s a very dangerous way to think.”
“I know, but it works,” Vance responded. “My theories about Mary Goldwater’s indiscretions are only speculation, and we never found solid enough evidence of Joseph Wick killing his son before he was murdered. Neither of those cases have enough evidence to solidify Cutthroat’s motive. But if a third person of questionable morality dies, that should be enough to run with. You can tell everyone in the precinct his motive, you can back it up with the evidence, and we’ll have everyone else on board with us afterward. This whole thing will go much smoother if the entire precinct is just as informed as we are.”
“So… what, then? If we get any real evidence about who the next victim might be, we’re just supposed to stand by and do nothing?” Lumis questioned.
“Yes,” Vance nodded.
“Vance—we were just talking about the possibility of Ari being targeted,” Lumis reminded him. “We just talked about that a few days ago.”
“And you told me it wasn’t a likely scenario,” Vance countered. “And I’ve got that covered. Between me and the entire mob of friends that’s always hanging around with her, nobody’s gonna catch her alone, and nobody’s gonna lay a hand on her.”
“You’d better hope not.”
“I know what I’m talking about. If I found out that Ari was being targeted, then the plan would change, of course—but I’m sure the Cutthroat Killer is targeting people who deserve retribution somehow. I’m positive of it. We just need the rest of the precinct to see that for themselves. We need them all on the same page as us… and we need to know for certain that he’s actually a justice killer, because as of now, most of the cops don’t get it. All they have to go on is me.”
Lumis slowly nodded, massaging his temples and staring downward in thought. He knew there were a handful of people in the precinct who didn’t entirely approve of Vance’s involvement in things, and by extension, didn’t fully trust Lumis’s work. These doubtful members of the police force likely wouldn’t take Vance’s ‘killer of justice’ theory seriously—unless the theory was proven correct by the Cutthroat Killer.
“And… here’s the icing on the cake,” Vance said, raising a finger. “You can go ahead and tell everyone in the precinct about the ‘killer of justice’ theory. Go ahead and start spreading that possibility to everyone who will listen.”
“Why… because it’ll make me look good when it’s eventually proven right?” Lumis asked, Vance nodding in response. “That’s pretty underhanded, using someone’s death to make myself look like a good detective.”
“Bill—it’s necessary ,” Vance said flatly. “You need that credibility if you wanna get the precinct behind you.”
“What if it’s not proven right?” Lumis inquired. “What if your theory is wrong?”
Vance shrugged. “Then we’re all gonna end up back at square one—but something tells me that’s not gonna happen.”
Lumis leaned farther back in his chair, folding his arms and pondering on the topic. “Chief Hawkins has been riding my ass about this case…”
“Then tell him,” Vance suggested. “Tell him about the theory—and if the theory is proven right, then Hawkins will start backing you. You need that.”
“He’ll start backing you , too,” Lumis muttered, squinting at him. “If the theory is proven… and if I tell him that you’re the one who originally came up with it… then maybe all the doubts about you working with me will subside throughout the precinct.”
“That’s what I’m saying —that’s what we need ,” Vance said firmly. “We can’t get shit worth of support right now. But if everyone else in the precinct sees that our ideas are validated, then we’ll have all the support we need. Not to mention, we’ll have whatever evidence that forensics can gather from that murder.”
Lumis unleashed a huge, conflicted sigh, leaning on the table and giving Vance a deflated sort of stare. “Logically speaking, you’re absolutely right. But the idea of not doing my job and letting someone die—”
“People die every day,” Vance told him forwardly. “Besides, we don’t have the means to prevent the next murder right now, anyway. We haven’t narrowed down a suspect yet, and we have no way of knowing who the next target really is, so it’s not like preventing the death is even likely or possible for us right now regardless. All we know for sure is that these people have done really evil things—and letting one of them die in order to catch a serial killer won’t make me lose any sleep at night.”
Vance and Lumis stared at one another for a few tense seconds.
Then, the detective released a scoffing sort of laugh. “You could at least pretend I’m a cop every now and then.”
Vance flashed a smug smirk, and the two of them stood, preparing to head off to another day of chasing leads once more.
As time passed by—Ariella felt more and more pumped each day.
For the first time in her life, she felt as if she was truly on a mission; Ariella worked hard in every class, spoke with her friends frequently about the podcast, and occasionally asked her father about the Cutthroat Killer case. She was careful not to rouse suspicion from him, only gathering tiny pieces of information that she may or may not use on the podcast—and she brought the topics to her friends numerous times. All of them cautiously calculated exactly how much information they ought to reveal. Rodney was a Godsend in this particular regard; he gave them advice on every subject they should avoid on the show, just to keep themselves safe and to refrain from compromising Vance and Lumis’s case.
And during the week, Ariella was delighted at the amount of attention she was getting; between classes and during lunch breaks, random strangers would regularly approach her and her friends, shaking their hands, showering them with compliments, and bombarding them with questions about their new podcast. Ariella, Tammy, and Lucy all received a completely unwitting wave of attention from the male listeners, and Tammy even managed to pocket a few phone numbers from her new guy fans. Jaxson was wearing his feathered hat much more often now—as it was apparently his signature ‘thing’ online—and he was positively ambushed by attention from his ravenous fans throughout the school. Many girls would gather in packs to swoon over Arkus’s accent. All the girls who showed interest in Zane were the gothic alternative types, and he managed all of the attention smoothly, collecting their phone numbers much to Lucy’s dismay.
Ariella adored this newfound popularity. It was the first time in her life when she—not only had friends—but had a spectacular reputation to boot.
There was only one difficulty. Many of their fans often asked them about the identity of DJ Dangerfield, and Ariella and her friends were always cautious to dodge this question despite how often it was asked. Arkus was no longer calling Rodney by his nickname during psychology class, hoping to protect his anonymity. Having a teacher involved might complicate things, especially regarding Rodney’s career—and none of them wanted to risk such a thing.
When Thursday came around, Ariella, Arkus, Zane, and Lucy were all sitting in the pickup truck in the school’s largest parking lot. The four of them were waiting for Jaxson and Tammy to join them before they headed off to Julian’s church for the afternoon.
Tammy had been hiding in Jaxson’s dorm room ever since psychology class ended—as her roommate, Maria, was pestering her constantly about visiting the sorority house. Jaxson was ready to leave, but Tammy was immersed in a deep conversation with Richard, who was sitting on his bed and bragging about his football career.
Jaxson hovered around the door for nearly half an hour before Tammy finally ended her conversation with Richard. When the two of them left the room, they walked in silence until they found the black pickup truck.
Once everyone was in the vehicle, Arkus started up the engine, and they drove off into town. Zane and the girls were all in the back, Arkus in the driver seat, Jaxson sitting glumly on the passenger side.
As he drove, Arkus stole a few glimpses of his friend. “Aw… what’s a’matter, sourpuss?”
Jaxson spared him a brief glare.
“Don’t lookit me in that tone of voice,” Arkus snarked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jaxson grumbled, resting his cheek on his knuckles. “It just sucks when you’re desperately in love with someone who’d rather hook up with literally anybody else.”
Arkus glanced at him again. “Blimey. Who pissed in your cornflakes?”
“Fucking… she is all over Richard,” Jaxson complained, gesturing angrily at the rear window and giving Arkus a perturbed look. “She’s all over Richard and she’s got like fifty other guys’ phone numbers now. It’s like I don’t exist.”
“Mate—you got girls literally swarming over you,” Arkus laughed. “You told Tammy how you felt last year, and unfortunately, she didn’t return the favor. You gotta move on.”
“But I can’t ,” Jaxson breathed, utterly frustrated. “And I don’t want anyone else…”
“I know. I know it’s hard, but she just doesn’t feel the same way,” Arkus told him. “Moving on is your only real option.”
Jaxson sighed irritably. “Okay. What if you told Ari how you felt? If she shot you down in flames—you think that would be easy to get over?”
Arkus stared directly forward, tapping the steering wheel as his expression fell entirely blank.
“Mhm.” Jaxson nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“There’s a reason I never told her,” Arkus said softly. “No offense, Jax… I really don’t mean offense when I say this… but I don’t want me and Ari ending up like you and Tammy. Being friend-zoned ain’t something I wanna let happen.”
“No offense taken,” Jaxson sighed gloomily. “I don’t wanna be like me, either…”
“Not to mention… y’know… I’ve had girlfriends before, and all of those relationships got fucked up somehow,” Arkus muttered. “I don’t… I mean… if something happens with Ari, I don’t want it to end up all… fucked up again. She’s not like the other ones were. She’s more… Iunno… she’s more real , I guess. She’s more special. I wanna do it right with her… and I dunno how to do it right, so… I’m just… taking it slow.”
Jaxson turned his head, his visage softening just the slightest bit. “That sounds like real love, dude. Not just sex or puppy-love bullshit. That sounds real , right there.”
“Aye… and that’s fuckin’ scary ,” Arkus laughed breathlessly. “Why are we so stupid with girls? We both got girls all over us now, thanks to that podcast… but we’re still just…”
“Fucking idiots,” Jaxson chuckled.
The two of them snickered as Arkus drove up the long, steep driveway leading to the church atop the hill, their friends in the back hunching down and bracing themselves for the steep ride upward. The parking lot—as usual—was mostly empty, as they’d arrived hours early again. Julian’s pine green car was parked a few spaces away from the double-doors at the end of the youth wing, and Arkus parked his truck far behind it, everyone climbing out and marching across the parking lot toward the doors.
“Zane,” Lucy smiled, coiling around one of his arms. “Wanna go up to the game room?”
“Sure,” Zane agreed. “Julian got some new pool cues. Methinks we should have another swordfight with ‘em.”
“That’s what ended up breaking all his old ones,” Jaxson laughed.
“What’s he gonna do? He’s a pacifist,” Zane sniggered.
“Oy—I call dibs on the pool table first!” Arkus declared, reaching the double-doors and ripping them open.
“The hell you say!” Tammy hollered, breaking into a run.
Arkus and Tammy sprinted across the gym, racing one another to the staircase. Jaxson, Zane, and Lucy all hurried after them, leaving Ariella behind.
Ariella moved toward the doors leading to the dining area, hoping to find Julian and help him prepare for the youth service again.
Strangely, the dining area and the kitchen were both empty. She ventured upstairs, peeking into the game room where all her friends were swarming over the pool table. She then searched the bathroom and storage rooms, but there was no Julian to be found.
Ariella made an odd face, thumping down the stairs again and marching across the gym. She stepped onto the parking lot, glancing around until her eyes landed on Julian’s car.
When she drew closer, Ariella squinted at the side windows, seeing that someone was lying crookedly in the back seat of the pine green car. So, she gently tapped on the window, and the sleeping pastor began to stir.
Julian sat fully upright in the back seat, his black hairs askew and his eyes halfway open. He yawned, stared at the window for a moment, and popped the door open, extending his legs outside without moving to stand.
“Ah… hello,” he moaned tiredly.
“Um… hey,” Ariella muttered, leaning on the car and hovering over him. “Why’re you sleeping in your car?”
“I… don’t… um… what time is it?” Julian asked, yawning once more and patting his hairs down. “I’m just… tired…”
“No shit,” Ariella chuckled. “It’s around four-ish. How long have you been out here?”
“Ahm… I ah… that’s a good question,” Julian mumbled, gazing up at her and revealing a sleepy smile. “What… what day is it?”
Ariella stared at him. “You don’t know what day it is?”
“I’m guessing it’s still Thursday,” Julian murmured. “That would explain… why you’re here. That’s good. That means I didn’t miss a day…”
“Julian, what the hell have you been doing?”
“Just… working,” Julian uttered. “Between my day job… and this job… and my other volunteer jobs… I’m really… very… tired…”
“Damn,” Ariella breathed. “You need to take a week off.”
“No, no… I’m fine,” Julian reassured. “I just need a nap day…”
He straightened up and slowly stood, feeling a sudden head rush and swaying in his stance. He then staggered backward, his back thumping against the car, and Ariella grasped his arm.
“Easy, now,” she said. “How much sleep have you had?”
“I don’t know,” Julian replied with a weak laugh. “I stayed here late last night to help Pastor Vern with some reorganizing in the front building… and I had to get up at five to work at the food bank today… so…”
“So you haven’t slept enough,” Ariella surmised.
“I’ve slept enough to get through tonight,” Julian figured, glancing over at the double-doors of his wing, which now stood propped open. “I think…”
“Why do… why do you do so much volunteer work?” Ariella wondered. “It seems like it’s… I don’t know… too much.”
Julian shrugged. “It feels nice. It’s the best thing I can do with my time… cleans the conscious… and it helps people. Gives me a mission in life.”
Ariella paused, sighing and nodding in agreement. “Well, yeah, okay… I can’t argue with that. I definitely know what you mean, there.”
Julian swallowed another yawn, blinking his vision straight and giving Ariella a curious squint.
“Jax sent me a link to the podcast,” he told her. “I love what you guys are doing. It’s excellent so far… and it’s got plenty of room to grow, too.”
“Thanks,” Ariella smiled. “Honestly… it feels like the best thing I can do with my time.”
“Really?” Julian asked. “Why’s that?”
Ariella took a deep breath, explaining everything about her father to Julian. When she was finished, Julian’s thin brows were raised, his mouth slightly agape.
“Wow,” Julian exhaled. “So… this is your way of doing him proud, then.”
“Yeah… even though I can’t… y’know… tell him about it,” Ariella said with a laugh. “He’d lose his shit if he found out… but it doesn’t matter. Hell, I’m finally in a place where I’m not afraid to get up and do something… and I’m not afraid to be in a church anymore, either. That’s a huge deal for me.”
Julian narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at her.
Ariella cradled her arms, glimpsing away and realizing that she’d revealed more than she intended. She knew what he would ask next before he voiced the question.
“Why were you ever afraid of being in church?”
Ariella stared downward with a deep, profound visage, images of the far-gone past plaguing her mind. She inhaled heavily, hesitating and wondering if she wanted to reveal more.
“Ari,” Julian said gently. “I know we’re not exactly denominational, here… but… I do have my own confession system here, particularly for the youth wing. People here know they can come to me with their confessions… which I always keep to myself with the utmost of confidentiality.”
Ariella turned and met his gaze—and once more, just like the night she met him, his bottle green eyes made a sharp, strange pain shoot through her chest. His emerald gaze and his compassionate attitude rivaled those of the late Eddie Grant, and once in a blue moon, for no reason at all, it almost hurt her to endure.
Nevertheless, Julian seemed the trustworthy type, just as Eddie once was. So, she released a deep sigh and decided to tell him the truth.
“When I was eight… I was in a foster home,” Ariella told him with some difficulty. “It was a really abusive and toxic place. The only nice person there was the father… Eddie. He was also the… the pastor of the church out there. My time at his church… that was… that was the only time I was ever happy there. But then, the foster mother… she went crazy… and shot him dead.”
Julian stared at her incredibly, suddenly lost for words.
“I watched,” Ariella murmured. “I watched him die. And, ever since then… for the longest time… I couldn’t even look at a church. I don’t know… something about churches and God just put a pit in my stomach, like it was gonna give me the same kind of false hope I had as a kid, just to see everything go down in the worst way possible instead… but… I also don’t… really feel that way anymore. I think it’s finally going away now.”
“I don’t… know what to say,” Julian exhaled.
Ariella shrugged and crossed her arms. “It was a long time ago…”
“Well… despite how horrific that is… I’m glad you seem to be mostly past it,” Julian remarked. “It’s good you can visit churches again. I’m honored that my church is your first.”
“Yeah, me too. I love this place,” Ariella smirked at the building.
Julian nodded, yawning loudly and leaning farther back on his car. He tried to blink himself fully awake again, Ariella eyeing him closely.
“I’m good,” Julian mumbled, running hands down his face. “I’m good…”
“No you’re not,” Ariella laughed. “I’ll tell you what… just go back to sleep. I’ll go clean the dining room and set up all the chairs for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that…”
“I don’t mind. Take a nap. I’ll wake you up at six.”
“Ari… are you sure?”
“Yeah. You need a nap.”
Julian spared her a grateful smile. “I appreciate that. I really do…”
“Yeah… no problem,” Ariella replied, patting him on the arm. “My dad does the same thing. He works himself into fatigue, too. I’m kinda used to it by now.”
“Arkus and the others might be willing to help…”
“Yeah. Go back to sleep. Seeya in two hours.”
“All right… thank you.”
“No problem.”
Ariella gave him a brief wave before heading back to the propped-open double-doors. Julian climbed into the back seat and fell asleep again almost instantly—and all the while, Ariella worked to scrub down the elongated table in the dining room, set out all the snacks Julian had placed on the kitchen counter for the church-goers, and set up all the metal chairs in the gym, facing them toward his large foldable stage. As she worked, she smiled at the ambient sounds of her friends laughing and playing around in the game room upstairs—and when the church-goers began to arrive, Ariella woke Julian before rejoining her friends.
Just like their first visit, the night carried on with everyone playing in the gym until Julian’s preaching began—then everyone eating snacks, then everyone playing in the gym again, then everyone going home. Ariella was delighted to play pool with her friends afterward, Julian even joining in on their fun—and never once during the night did she spare her past another thought.
The next day—while Vance and Lumis were following leads on the first name on their suspect list—Ariella and her friends were greeted by another wave of attention until the end of lunchtime. When they broke away from their pestering fans and left the mess hall, they headed off to psychology class and took their usual seats at the corner of the front row. The class carried on routinely—and Rodney spoke to the students about the impact of media on society for a while, as this topic was loosely connected to their most recent assignment. At some point during the lecture, Arkus scooted forward and jutted his hand into the air.
Rodney squinted at him. “Yes, Scotty?”
“I just wanna point out,” Arkus said coyly, smirking and leaning over the table. “This particular subject falls more under the ‘sociology’ category, dunnit?”
“Psychology and sociology overlap in quite a lot of places,” Rodney informed. “And, since there’s no sociology class here in the health wing… I like to cover both the best I can. It’s better if you learn more than intended, not less. The reason I brought up the effects of the media on society is to widen your perspective on yesterday’s assignment—the effects of parental discipline on a child’s mind. Same concept, smaller scale. The government and the media are to a society what a parent is to a child. The guiding force, the rule-makers, the hands of discipline, and the most intimate teachers of life that we’ll ever have.”
Arkus and Jaxson both choked on a laugh after hearing the word ‘intimate.’
Rodney’s eyes narrowed at them, waiting until their smiles faded before speaking on.
“Problem is,” the professor continued, the classroom silencing entirely. “What happens when the parental hand is dysfunctional? What happens in a household if the parent can’t cope with their responsibilities, and as a result, teach the child all the wrong ways to live their lives? And on the sociological scale—what happens when the system fails, and the society looking to them for guidance and justice are taught that some people will get away with evil while others don’t? It manufactures a broken system, both inside the home and amidst all of society. The parent—and the system—lose their influence. The child—and the society—stop trusting their judgment completely. And then, off they go, gallivanting into a self-destructive lifestyle to find their own way, because all their guiding lights have led them down a dark path of confusion, misinformation, and dysfunction.”
“Y’know what,” Zane whispered, leaning forward and muttering into Ariella’s ear. “This is, by far, the most cheerful fucking lecture I’ve ever heard from him.”
Ariella clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.
Rodney continued speaking to his class for a while. Later on, Arkus patted Ariella on the arm, leaning over and speaking to her in a hushed tone.
“I got a good idea for the show today,” he said with a smirk.
“You do?” Ariella whispered interestingly.
“Aye,” Arkus nodded. “Might be some possible connection between the first two victims and my dad’s business partner, Moreno Brunelli.”
“Really?”
“Yeah… your dad heard me mention Brunelli, and all the sudden, he started staring off in space and mumbling random stuff about the other victims. It made me think that Cutthroat is—”
“Excuse me,” Rodney yelled, advancing on Arkus and Ariella. “Is your private conversation related to the matter I’m discussing right now?”
Arkus cocked his head and smirked. “Well… if the Cutthroat Killer was mistreated by his mommy and daddy, then I’d say our topic of conversation is very related to your lecture, sir.”
A few people snickered at hearing this, but Rodney’s expression remained flat.
Once the room fell quiet again, the professor finally looked away, facing the classroom and continuing his lecture. Zane stared at Ariella and Arkus from behind, his visage deep and thoughtful. Tammy and Lucy both noticed his lingering stare, exchanging glimpses with one another and saying nothing.
When psychology class was finished, students began rising from their seats and flooding out of both exits. As usual, the end of psychology class was in the heart of afternoon, the late-day sun shining through the windows along the far wall. Rodney sat behind his desk, collecting the assignments that some of the students handed in on their way out.
Ariella and her friends waited to hand in their assignments last, all six of them lingering by his desk, as the classroom was now empty, and their private Friday afternoon had started.
Rodney leaned back, his fingers gently stroking his face as he stared up at them, sighing deeply.
“Lock the doors,” he advised. “And let’s get this show on the road.”
Jaxson and Arkus beamed, both of them hurrying to lock the side and rear entrances of the classroom. As they did, Ariella led the others toward the poster-covered door in the corner, waiting for Rodney to unlock it. Once he did, they all marched into the podcast room and reclaimed the same seats they had last week—all except Jaxson, who spent a few minutes hovering over his large computer.
“We got a slew of comments,” Jaxson reported. “Half of them want us to do serial killer trivia… a handful of people wanna see what Tammy looks like… and a whooole bunch of people are still asking who DJ Dangerfield is.”
“Trivia it is,” Arkus decided, smacking the table. “I’ll put that game together for next week.”
“Right—now, I know we can’t tell everyone who Rodney is,” Jaxson said, turning and eyeing Tammy. “But would you be willing to post a picture of your face?”
“My face ?” Tammy scoffed. “No. First of all—I’m not plastering my face all over the internet with a serial killer on the loose. And second of all—I seriously doubt those people just wanna see my face.”
Jaxson shrugged with a sideways nod. “I can aim the camera down. I’m pretty sure an obligatory boob shot would please everyone too.”
“Oh—aye—I second that,” Arkus said quickly.
“Me too,” Zane agreed with a snide smirk.
Tammy smiled curtly and held up both middle fingers for the boys to see.
Lucy sighed and shook her head. “You guys are gross…”
Ariella laughed, straightening up in her seat and mentally rehearsing everything she’d say for the second podcast. Rodney reached over from his corner seat, jiggling the doorknob and making sure it was locked. Once everyone was quiet and settled, Jaxson hit the space bar, sank into his chair, and the show began.
“Allo allo, good people of Gates Mill!” Arkus started energetically. “Welcome back to the Gates Mill Gate Keepers Podcast—I’m your co-host, Arkus!”
“And you all know me, JaxMax,” Jaxson added loudly. “And the rest are here, too. We’ve got a lot to talk about today—the podcast segment that was voted most popular, the new signoff, and of course, the news we have about all the information we started this podcast to cover.”
“The commentary and serious-talk comes before everything else, as dictated by the format of the first episode,” Arkus stated. “So, I reckon we oughta get right into it—whatcha think, folks?”
“Hell yeah,” Ariella grinned.
“Okay,” Lucy mumbled shyly.
“Get ‘er done!” Tammy hollered.
“Let’s do it,” Zane agreed.
Rodney merely nodded without speaking, and Arkus straightened up, clearing his throat before continuing on. “So—we all know that the Cutthroat Killer is the strangest killer that Texas has seen since the days of the alligator man. There’re a lot of things that make him unique—his brutal method, his mysterious motives, how random his targets seem to be, and the fact that there was a fifteen-year gap between his first known murder and his second. But here’s the real interesting thing—our designated asshole, Zane, was kind enough to point this out last week, and another source of mine pointed this out to me a few days ago. Mary Goldwater and Joseph Wick both had a lot of media attention shortly before they were killed.”
A brief pause followed Arkus’s words, everyone staring at him intently, Rodney stroking his chin in thought.
“You think the killer is in it for the press?” Jaxson wondered. “He just wants attention?”
“Maybe—but not direct attention,” Arkus replied. “Because the killer’s left us with nothing but two bodies, no other clues, or notes or anything. He only leaves us with the dead bodies of the people he kills—the same people who were practically famous throughout the community for some reason or another. He wanted everyone to see their deaths. He wants to send a message.”
“That sounds like it makes sense,” Tammy uttered. “But what’s his message?”
“That he can get away with whatever he wants?” Lucy guessed.
Zane shook his head, straightening up in his seat. “No… not that he can get away with it. If that was his motive, he’d be louder, and cockier, and prouder. He’d be laying out elaborate clues just to prove he can get away with it.”
“You know…” Rodney spoke up, raising his finger and leaning slightly forward.
Everyone went quiet and wheeled around to face him, all of them surprised to hear him speak without prior motivation to do so.
“When the Zodiac Killer was on the loose… he sent cryptic codes to the police, and he described how it felt to kill his victims,” Rodney told everyone. “But the Cutthroat Killer doesn’t do anything like that. So… just based on our personal speculation… I’d say Zane has a point. Cutthroat isn’t as cocky as Zodiac was. He doesn’t care about getting the attention for himself. He wants the attention to go straight to his victims.”
“Then… there must be something important about the victims that we’re overlooking,” Ariella speculated. “Whatever message Cutthroat is sending, he’s sending it by killing specific people who get lots of media coverage. Think about it… what have we all heard about Mary Goldwater and Joseph Wick?”
“Well, I was still in Scotland back then… and most of us were just little kids when the Mary Goldwater thing happened,” Arkus muttered, glimpsing over at Rodney. “Except for…”
The group fell silent again, all eyes falling onto the professor a second time.
Rodney sighed. “Well… I remember bits and pieces. The official story was that Mary Goldwater was likely killed for her money—the insurance money she got from her two tenants who died—but that whole situation seemed sketchy to me. Seemed like there was a lot of info that was never divulged to the public.”
“Care to elaborate?” Jaxson asked, leaning on the table and perking his brow.
Rodney hesitated, pausing to think for a moment. “Ahh, well… her first tenant to die was a recovering addict, I think. He fell off the wagon and overdosed. Nothing suspicious about that, I guess… but… the second tenant to die ended up dying in a freak car accident shortly after. That part is a little weird. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure Mary Goldwater was found dead in her car outside of town with all her money in the trunk. The killer didn’t take the money, so… money wasn’t the motive.”
“That’s really shady,” Tammy commented.
“Hold on—hold on!” Jaxson said suddenly. “I just got a crazy idea. What if Mary Goldwater was responsible for one of her tenants dying? Or maybe both of them? If her body was found in her car outside of town—and it was found with all the money—then she could’ve killed them for the insurance money and tried to skip town right after.”
“Oooh,” Arkus marveled. “That’s a hell of a conspiracy…”
“Jesus,” Ariella sighed, shaking her head. “Almost sounds like she deserved it…”
There was another pause—and Zane was now glaring fixedly at Ariella from across the table.
“Say that again,” Zane said urgently, straightening up and pointing to her.
Ariella blinked. “What? That she deserved it…?”
“Yes,” Zane uttered, his usually cold eyes igniting with a sudden spark. “Yes… oh my God , yes. That’s it. That’s what it is—that’s the Cutthroat Killer’s motive, right there.”
“What…?” Lucy uttered in confusion.
“Dude—think about it. If Mary actually did kill someone for insurance money, then she had it coming, right?” Zane explained.
“ Oooh ,” Tammy breathed, her expression growing alarmed. “And Joseph Wick was a suspect in his son’s murder. If Joseph actually killed his son, then he deserved to face some justice, too.”
“ That’s what it is—we fucking cracked it,” Zane proclaimed, slapping the table roughly. “The Cutthroat Killer is killing people who deserve punishment somehow.”
“Oh Christ,” Arkus breathed, a dark realization sweeping over him.
Ariella and the others turned to face Arkus, reading the grim expression that was now strewn across his face.
Arkus returned their stares briefly, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. “Okay, ah… well, I was talking to… someone… about a certain businessman recently. During this conversation, it was revealed that Brunelli—I mean—this businessman was a pedophile who managed to weasel his way out of big jail time.”
“I’ve heard that name,” Zane muttered, his eyes narrowing at Arkus. “Isn’t he the owner of that big credit loan place?”
“Aye,” Arkus affirmed. “He spent years molesting his nephew and got away with it. He’s well-known in the business world, and people who work under him are constantly gossiping about his… wrongdoings.”
“Okay… that’s… gross,” Tammy said, scrunching up her face. “But… what does that have to do with anything?”
Arkus’s visage took on a hint of severity, turning to Ariella and giving her a serious stare.
Ariella knew what was on his mind—that his conversation with Vance suddenly made much more sense to him now, and that Vance’s insistent questioning about Brunelli had a good reason behind it. If Zane was right—if the Cutthroat Killer was killing people who deserved punishment—then Vance’s strange behavior days ago wasn’t actually strange at all. This Moreno Brunelli person was relatively well-known in many circles, just as Mary Goldwater and Joseph Wick had been—not to mention, he had a checkered history of doing terrible things, just like the previous two victims. Moreno Brunelli perfectly fit the profile of a Cutthroat victim, and Vance had worked that out the moment he’d heard the man’s name.
“If Cutthroat is killing people who ‘deserve’ to die— and people who have a lot of attention on them—then Moreno Brunelli fits the bill,” Ariella synopsized. “He’s a pedophile and a rapist. People like him are the ones Cutthroat will target if he kills again.”
Rodney mildly stroked his neck, motioning for Ariella to stop talking, but she missed the gesture. Arkus and Jaxson traded deep stares for a moment before the discussion carried on.
“Aaanyway,” Jaxson yelled, clapping loudly. “Let’s carry on with our topics at hand—the fans have spoken, and it seems murder trivia has been voted our new segment on the show! Arkus promises to have our first trivia game ready by next week!”
At that, the subjects of conversation seemed to lighten considerably. The rest of the show was filled with snarky banter and trivial ideas for later episodes—and when it was time to end the podcast, Arkus leaned close to the nearest microphone, delivering their new signoff.
“We’ll be right back!” Arkus cackled. “ Aaaaaaaagh !”
Jaxson hit the space bar and stopped the recording before Arkus’s scream was finished, making everyone chuckle.
Rodney then leaned forward, giving Arkus a bizarre sort of stare.
“What?” Arkus laughed. “That’s our signoff now.”
“ That’s your signoff?” Rodney breathed, his eyes flickering questioningly between Arkus and Jaxson. “Your signoff is ‘we’ll be right back’ followed by a deafening screech?”
“Yeah… it’s a horror movie thing,” Jaxson told him. “You say ‘I’ll be right back’ and then you get murdered. That’s the joke.”
Rodney stared vacantly at him. “That’s not a funny joke.”
“No… but it’s a way of making the show more lighthearted,” Arkus said. “And we need that, considering we’re talking about murder all the time.”
“I like it,” Zane chuckled. “Maybe for the Halloween episode, I can make some murder noises so it sounds like you’re actually getting killed at the end.”
Arkus snapped and pointed at him. “Brilliant!”
Rodney sighed and shook his head. “Morbid…”
“Well’p… I gotta go,” Zane said, reaching his feet and checking his phone. “I told Richard I’d meet him at six. Lucy, you coming?”
Lucy nodded and smiled, leaping from her chair and joining his side—and Tammy gave them both a baffled stare.
“Wait—hold up— hold the phone,” Tammy called out, stepping in Zane’s path “You know Richard? Since when?”
Zane shrugged. “Since I ran into him at the drug store, and he offered me a place at his fraternity. I’m not really a frat boy, but… I think I might join just for the boozing.”
“Hey—you wanna come with us?” Lucy asked with a hopeful smile. “You can hang out with Richard all afternoon if you do.”
Tammy grinned, and Jaxson—who was hunched over his computer across the room—spared them a disdainful glance.
“Hell yeah—let’s go,” Tammy agreed, and the three of them marched out of the room.
“Oy!” Arkus ran after them. “I wanna go! Ari—you coming?”
“Nah,” Ariella replied. “I’m gonna head home soon. See you guys tomorrow.”
Arkus nodded and waved at her, hurrying out of the room with a pep in his step. Moments after they were gone, Jaxson shut his computer down, grabbed his bag, and quietly headed for the door as well.
“You’re not gonna get started on your editing?” Ariella asked him.
“No,” Jaxson replied shortly. “I can do that tomorrow. Night.”
He wandered out of the room without waiting for a response.
Ariella and Rodney left the room moments later, entering the spacious empty classroom as the late afternoon sun cast a yellow-orange glow from every window. The classroom always felt like an entirely different place outside of class hours—no lectures, no students asking questions or joking around, and no one to whisper to during important assignments. The huge room was eerily silent this time of day, every seat empty and every strange decoration hanging from the walls with nobody around to observe them, save for Ariella and her psychology professor.
Just when she was about to say her goodbyes, Ariella’s words seemed to get caught in her throat, and she stared into Rodney oddly. He wore a strangely troubled expression, his gaze pensively fixated on her, standing with his arms folded and his eyes shining with perturbation.
“What?” Ariella mumbled. “What’d I do…?”
“You need to be more careful what you say,” Rodney told her flatly. “We shouldn’t go around name-dropping if we can help it.”
“I didn’t,” Ariella argued. “Me and Arkus were really careful not to mention my dad’s name—”
“Not your father—Moreno Brunelli,” Rodney corrected her.
Ariella squinted at him. “Why can’t I mention Moreno Brunelli? None of us know him. It’s not like anyone is gonna track us down based off that. Besides, we need to be able to speculate on the show—”
“You gave out a name based on the motive of the killer ,” Rodney said grimly. “ Think about that for a second. That’s dangerous information.”
“But we talk about Mary Goldwater and Joseph Wick all the time—”
“Both of whom are already dead . Neither of them can be put in danger anymore. But this Brunelli fella can be.”
Ariella paused, releasing a cloud of breath and giving him a defeated nod. “Okay… fine. Fine, I won’t reveal the names of any possible future victims anymore.”
“Good,” Rodney concluded. “Now… Jaxson gave you my cell number, right?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. I might have a few little odd jobs for you, if you’re interested.”
“What is it?”
Rodney glimpsed over his shoulder at the windows, pocketing his hands. “Well… my time’s been stretched a little thinner here lately. There are some little errands I haven’t had time to run. So, if I end up stretched for time again… I might call you and ask you to pick up something from the pharmacy for me, or something from the grocery store, maybe. I’ll throw a few bucks your way, too. Is that all right?”
“Yeah,” Ariella nodded. “I don’t mind helping you out.”
“All right… I appreciate it.” Rodney offered a faint smile, patting her on the shoulder. “Go on, now… get home before dark.”
“M’kay… goodnight.”
“Night, kiddo.”
Ariella gave him a wave and headed for the door. Rodney sighed heavily, leaning on his desk and staring after her until she was out of sight.