Keller gives him a fleeting smile. It would be much more gratifying if the remains of a young man weren’t in that hole. If she hadn’t just faced the deceased’s brother, who’s already been through so much, or Ella, whose father was one of the men who put Vince Whitaker in that hole.
“How’d you get him to crack?” Arpeggio asks.
“Who?”
“Mandy Young’s father.”
After the meeting with Rusty, something had troubled Keller: how could the old man be so confident about the precise location of his son? Vince had eluded capture for fifteen years and was likely continually on the move. So how could Rusty be so sure? More to the point, why was he willing to condition a plea deal on the authorities finding Vince first? That’s when it dawned on Keller. Rusty could only be that certain if he knew Vince wasn’t going anywhere.
Because he was dead.
That’s when the pixels from the last three days came together. Chris’s account of the last night he saw his brother. Vince in his living room with a group of men, one of them twitchy and agitated. It reminded Keller of her meeting with Mandy Young’s father at the insurance company. His demeanor and his instant refusal to speak with them. Katie McKenzie’s father had acted the same way. Two fathers refusing to help try to catch the man accused of killing their daughters. And something Candy O’Shaughnessy’s mother said came back to her. “The fathers were all macho, you know? Like they were gonna break into the jail and beat the kid up.”
Keller had decided to cut to the chase and confront Walter Young. She’d told him that Rusty Whitaker had turned on him, that they knew the fathers had killed Vince, so his only chance for leniency was to come clean. Most people don’t realize that law enforcement can lie to suspects. And Keller had no problem with this lie. Particularly because it worked. Walter Young broke down and told her everything. About three devastated fathers deciding to take justice into their own hands. They’d arrived at the house initially to give Vince a beating. Force him to confess. But soon the young man was in the trunk of Mr. Monroe’s car, the other men following him to the estate.
They brought Vince, still alive, to the garden, where they beat him bloody, never getting the confession they wanted, the confession they needed in order to avenge their sweet daughters. Mr. McKenzie had brought a gun. According to Walter Young, they each took a shot, forging a union that would ensure that they’d all go down if any of them ever revealed the secret. The only loose end was Rusty Whitaker. He’d seen them take Vince. Mr. Monroe had made a sizable payment to Whitaker to keep him quiet. Keller suspects that when they dig into Mr. Monroe’s finances, they’ll find more than one payment to Rusty Whitaker over the years.
“It didn’t take long for him to confess,” Keller says. “Walter Young knew Rusty would turn on them. He actually seemed relieved to get it off his chest. He’s been carrying this around for fifteen years. They all carried it. Ella’s father killed himself in this very garden.”
Arpeggio nods.
Keller looks around. None of the other agents are within earshot. It’s a good time to ask Arpeggio about his relationship with the McKenzie family. She checks her phone to see if Atticus has found any connections between Arpeggio and the Dairy Creamery victims. He texted her earlier that he was chasing a lead:
Might have found something, going to check, call me when you have time.
Her calls have gone straight to Atticus’s voice mail. She considers calling again now, but decides it’s time to confront Arpeggio.
“They’ve arrested Katie McKenzie’s father.”
Arpeggio offers no reaction.
“How do you feel about that?” Keller asks.
Arpeggio narrows his eyes. “Feel about what?”
“Having your old friend’s husband arrested for murder.”
Arpeggio’s jaw pulses, a nearly imperceptible twitch of his mustache. But he says nothing. Arpeggio is a skilled interrogator who understands that it’s always the chatty who do themselves in. The quiet ones are the most likely to walk out of interrogation rooms of their own free will.
“I spoke with Katie’s mom today,” Keller says.
“I know.” Arpeggio stares into the night. Past the dig site, past the tennis courts, into the darkness.
“We also talked to Tony Grosso.” Keller waits again.
After another expansive silence, Arpeggio says, “The family had been through enough. They didn’t need the press making Katie out to be some kind of slut. She was a sweet kid; she just made a mistake.”