CHAPTER TWELVE

Ella led Luca into a cramped box that passed for an interview room. In the center, hunched over a wobbly table, sat the Archie Newman’s parents.

The place had all the ambiance of a prison visitation area, which was fitting, seeing as how she was about to serve the Newmans a life sentence of misery.

Ella took a moment to study the couple, to take in the lines of devastation etched into their faces. The mother, a small, bird-boned woman with a halo of gray curls, looked like a strong breeze might shatter her into a million pieces. The father, a hulking bear of a man with a salt-and-pepper buzz cut, had the shellshocked look of a soldier who”d just seen his buddy step on a landmine. Grief hung off them like a cheap suit, mixed with a hearty dose of pissed-off.

Ella slid into a chair across from them, Luca following her lead. She laced her fingers on the table, met their gazes head-on.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Newman, I”m Agent Dark. This is Agent Hawkins. First off, I want to say how sorry I am for your loss. I know those words don”t mean much right now, but…’

‘You”re right. They don”t,’ Mr. Newman cut her off, voice rough as a gravel road. ‘What I want to know is what happened to my boy. We heard… rumors.’

Ella”s guts clenched. Rumors spread faster than crabs in this game. Someone probably overheard some cop chatter, blabbed to his buddies, and now it was all over town. The Newman”s catch wind and of course their minds go to the worst place.

‘I understand your frustration,’ Ella said, picking her words like she was defusing a bomb. ‘The investigation is still ongoing, but I can assure you…’

‘We heard Archie was strung up,’ Archie’s mother blurted, voice hitching on her boy”s name. ‘Stuck in some kind of - of torture thing. Is that true?’

Ella”s tongue felt like lead. How the hell was she supposed to soft-pedal this?

But before she could open her mouth, Luca piped up. ‘Mrs. Newman, we won”t lie to you. Archie was found in a device called a pillory. It”s a type of medieval restraint.’

Ella shot him a look that could curdle milk. The hell was he doing, giving them the uncut version? But Luca barreled on, those baby blues big and earnest.

‘I know that”s hard to hear. Believe me, if I could shield you from this, I would. But you deserve the truth.’

The mother let out a low keen, like a gut-shot deer. Pops pulled her to his chest, his own eyes suspiciously bright.

‘Why?’ the dad croaked. ‘Why would someone do that to our boy?’

And there it was. The million-dollar question. The one that kept Ella up at night, chasing answers she knew she”d never find at the bottom of a bottle.

She leaned forward, held the father’s gaze. ‘I don”t know. But I can promise you that we’ll find out.’

Mr. Newman regarded her. Measuring her up, seeing if she was just another empty suit spewing platitudes.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. ‘I”m holding you to that.’

Ella returned it, solemn as a blood oath. Now it was time to peel back the layers of Archie Newman”s life, see what made him tick. And what made him a target?

‘Can you tell me about Archie? What was he like?’

Mrs. Newman dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. ‘He was a good kid. A little rough around the edges, but heart of gold, you know?’

Mr. Newman grunted in agreement. ‘He had his moments, like anyone. But he was everything we ever wanted.’

‘What did he do for a living? What were his hobbies, his interests?’

Mr. Newman cleared his throat. ‘He was a bartender. Worked at that new place downtown, the Boathouse.’

Ella already knew this. She just wanted to assess the parents’ capacity for truth-telling.

‘Did he like his job? Get along with his coworkers?’

Mrs. Newman nodded, a wobbly little gesture. ‘Oh yes, he loved it. Said it was like getting paid to party.’ A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, there and gone again. ‘He always was a people person.’

People person. Ella mentally underlined it. It fit with the image she was building in her head - a young, outgoing guy, well-liked by most. The kind of person who made friends easily, navigated the choppy waters of human interaction with a grin and a wink.

But it also meant he probably let his guard down, trusted too easily. An open book, all his soft spots right there for any passing psycho to see.

‘What about outside of work?’ She asked. ‘What did Archie like to do for fun?’

‘He was always tinkering with something,’ Mr. Newman said. ‘Bikes, mostly. He had this old Harley he was fixing up, spent hours in the garage just fiddling with the damn thing.’

Luca stepped in. ‘Did Archie have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend? No judgments here.’

A shadow passed over Mr. Newman”s face, there and gone again. ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘Archie, he was so focused on working, making money for a house deposit. Said he didn”t have time for any distractions.’

Ella”s spidey senses tingled. No romantic partner. It wasn”t unheard of, especially for a young, good-looking guy on the rise. But in her experience, even the most ambitious man had an itch to scratch. The fact that Archie had no one sharing his bed stood out like a red flag on a golf course.

She made a mental note to do a deep dive into Archie”s love life, or lack thereof. It could be nothing, just a quirk of personality or circumstance. Or it could be a sign of something else.

‘What about friends?’ Ella pressed. ‘Did Archie have a tight crew, people he hung out with regularly?’

Mrs. Newman hesitated, her fingers worrying at the damp tissue. ‘He had a few close friends, sure. Went out with them a few times a month, maybe.’

‘Where to?’

‘Usual places, I guess. Bars, comedy clubs, theater sometimes.’

Ella benched the info and leaned forward, elbows on the scarred table. Time to poke the hornet”s nest, see what stung.

‘In my experience, Mrs. Newman, sometimes even good people have enemies. Someone who might be nursing a grudge, or feeling slighted.’ She kept her tone gentle but insistent. ‘Can you think of anyone who might”ve had a problem with Archie? Maybe something from his past, something he mentioned in passing?’

Mr. Newman shifted, his jaw working like he was chewing on a tough piece of gristle. ‘The boy could be... opinionated, at times. Had a mouth on him… admittedly.’

Ella”s ears pricked. Now she was getting somewhere. ‘Opinionated how?’

The father huffed, something between a sigh and a growl. ‘Archie, he didn”t suffer fools. If someone was being an ass, he”d call ”em on it. Didn”t matter who they were.’

Mrs. Newman”s hands fluttered like wounded birds, plucking at her tissue, her sleeve, her husband”s arm. ‘He got himself into a few scrapes over it. Nothing serious, but... words were exchanged. You know how young guys can be.’

Ella knew it well. She”d seen it a thousand times, young bucks butting heads, measuring dicks. Most of the time it was nothing, just posturing and bravado. But sometimes, when you mixed in a few drinks and a few bruised egos, things got physical.

‘These scrapes,’ Ella probed, ‘they ever go beyond words? Any pushing and shoving, maybe some thrown punches?’

‘No, no, nothing like that, as far as I know.’ Mrs. Newman looked almost offended at the suggestion. ‘Archie wasn”t a violent man. He just... he was just so passionate, you know?’

Ella had to concede that passionate was sometimes a synonym for being an asshole.

‘And there”s nothing wrong with that,’ Luca chimed in. ‘Archie sounds like he was a man of principle.’

Ella shot her partner a sidelong glance. Easy there, Oprah. The last thing they needed was the Newmans clamming up because they thought their precious boy was being painted as some kind of hooligan.

But to her surprise, Mrs. Newman actually cracked a smile. A tiny, wobbly thing, but a smile nonetheless. ‘Thank you. He was. Admirable, I mean. The best son a mother could ask for.’

And then, just like that, the waterworks started up again. Mrs. Newman crumpled like a house of cards, great shuddering sobs wracking her narrow frame. Mr. Newman gathered her into his arms, making soothing noises that didn”t quite cover his own hitching breaths.

Ella sat back, giving them a moment. She”d seen this scene play out more times than she could count - the raw, ragged edges of grief, the yawning chasm of loss. It never got easier, watching someone try to wrap their head around the unimaginable.

She exchanged a glance with Luca. Time to wrap this up, that look said. They”d gotten what they needed, pried all they could out of the Newmans without crossing the line into cruelty.

Ella cleared her throat softly. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Newman. I know this isn”t easy, but everything you”ve told us - it”ll help. I promise you that.’

‘You”ll find them, won”t you?’ Mrs. Newman asked as she raised her head from her husband’s shoulder. ‘The monster who did this to our Archie?’

Ella opened her mouth, the stock-standard we”re doing everything we can poised on the tip of her tongue. But before she could get the words out, Luca leaned forward.

‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘We”ll find them. Whoever did this, wherever they”re hiding... we won”t stop until they”re brought to justice. You have my word on that.’

He might have been so green he was practically photosynthesizing, but his heart was in the right place. Even if his mouth was writing checks, his ass couldn”t cash. Ella couldn”t get too annoyed because she used to do the same when Ripley was by her side. Ripley sprouted facts, Ella gave them hope. Both had their place in the life-and-death world of law enforcement.

Ella said, ‘We’ll be in touch. If you think of anything else, anything at all... you call me. Day or night.’

She pressed her card into Mrs. Newman”s limp hand, holding the other woman”s gaze for a long moment. Then she turned and strode out of the room, Luca scrambling to follow in her wake. She didn”t look back. She couldn”t. If she did, she might just crack herself, might just let the jagged shards of her own battered heart slice right through her poker face.

And she couldn”t afford that. Not now. Not when there was work to be done and a killer to catch.

In the hallway, Luca fell into step beside her. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy, his mouth already open to speak. Ella cut him off at the pass.

‘Don’t,’ she said.

Luca’s jaw rose back to normal. ‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t apologize. It’s fine. I used to do it too.’

Luca”s face was a study in contrition, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘I know, I know,’ he said, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘I shouldn”t have told them about the stocks. Or made promises we might not be able to keep.’

Ella sighed then pinched the bridge of her nose. The kid was a walking, talking heart-on-his-sleeve. In this line of work, that was both a blessing and a curse.

‘Hope can keep you going when everything else has gone down the can. But it can also cut you to the bone when it”s ripped away.’

She”d seen it too many times. Families clinging to every scrap of false comfort, every empty platitude, only to have their world shattered all over again when the truth came out. When the killer walked, or the case went cold.

‘I just wanted to give them something. Anything. I know how it feels. I know how easy it is to blame the cops.’

Ella”s heart clenched. Goddamn bleeding heart. But she couldn”t fault him for it, not really. Not when she”d been in his shoes, spouting the same rose-tinted naivety.

‘I get it. It’s just the more you give them, the more they lose. Plus, Edis told us to keep everything on the down low. We’re the ones that gotta explain to him how the press know the details.’

‘Sheesh,’ Luca said. ‘So what now? Back to the drawing board?’

‘Not quite. I want to know more about Georgia Bolton, see if anything overlaps with Archie.’

”She”s got a sister, according to her records. Lives a couple of miles away.”

‘Then that’s where we’re headed.’

‘Wait. I don’t know if she knows her sister is dead.’

Georgia Bolton”s family. Another set of lives to shatter, another hole to rip in the fabric of someone’s world. And Ella was the one who had to look them in the eye and tell them their loved one was never coming home.

‘Then get ready for lesson number two,’ Ella said.