Nature of Darkness

by Robert W. Stephens

  “I respect your beliefs. I really do. But I don’t think the devil wrote that journal. It was a man, one who delighted in taking innocent lives. That man is now dead. If he was who we think he was, then I went to his funeral several years ago. I saw them lower his body into the ground.”

  “His body. But the soul lives on. Evil lives on.”

  Renee turned away from Father Greco. She took one last look at the Castel Sant’Angelo. Then she turned back to the priest.

  “Thank you for your help. It was more than I could have ever hoped for. I doubt I’ll ever be back to Rome, so I wish you all the happiness in the world. But I must get back to my hotel. I have an early departure and a long journey ahead of me.”

  Father Greco nodded.

  Renee turned and headed back in the direction of Trastevere. When she’d walked about ten paces, Father Greco called out to her.

  “Don’t go looking for the dark one, Ms. Rankin. If you do, you will probably find him.”

  Renee stopped and turned back to the priest one last time.

  “That’s another thing you don’t know about me, Father. I don’t need to search for the devil. I’ve already met him. He did his best to kill me, but he didn’t succeed. I have no fear of him anymore.”

  16

  The Aunt

  Penfield stood at the edge of his boat dock and looked down the river. It was a cold morning and a thick fog hung low just above the surface of the water. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his last conversation with Marcus Carter. The man knew things he shouldn’t and there was no easy explanation for how.

  The more Penfield thought about it, the more convinced he became there was a real possibility that his friend and former co-worker, Angela Darden, was still alive. He didn’t know why she was so important to Marcus after all of this time, but his instincts told him that she was yet to play a pivotal role in stopping this new murder spree.

  There was nothing he could do with the FBI’s investigation. His participation in their case was limited to his meetings with Marcus Carter. His friendship with Doug McMahon wouldn’t even allow him to take on a greater responsibility. Still, there was a mission he could fulfill, one that he knew the FBI wouldn’t endorse.

  He also knew their scope was limited, despite them being renowned for their ability to create accurate criminal profiles. This was no ordinary killer, though. Normal operating procedures would get you nowhere.

  Penfield walked back into his cabin. Before he’d left the police force, he’d scanned all of his case files and he’d backed them up on his personal laptop. This included names and contact numbers for all witnesses, including from the MAI investigation.

  The call to Lisa Darden was a difficult one to make. Penfield remembered interviewing her after the death of her nephew, Charlie Darden, and his wife, Sara, at the hands of Marcus Carter. Charlie and Sara’s daughter had been kidnapped by Marcus. Fortunately, she’d been rescued, but the ordeal had left the child parentless.

  Penfield had heard that Lisa Darden had stepped up to raise her grandniece, Christie. Penfield had assumed that Angela Darden, Charlie’s sister and Christie’s aunt, might have taken over raising the child, but that had all changed the morning Angela had allegedly taken her own life. By Penfield’s calculation, Christie was probably a teenager in high school by now.

  Penfield phoned Lisa Darden. He kept his reasons for wanting to talk to her vague, saying only that he hoped she could provide some information for a future meeting he had with Marcus Carter. She was gracious enough to agree to meet with him, despite the negative feelings he knew the name Marcus Carter brought up for her.

  She asked Penfield to come to her Norfolk, Virginia house in the morning, after Christie Darden had left for school. Lisa understandably didn’t want the young woman to hear any more news about the man who’d murdered her parents in cold blood.

  Penfield made good time on his drive to the southeastern section of Virginia. He parked his car in front of the Darden household. He climbed out and looked at the quaint two-story house. It had plank siding that was painted a dark blue. The shutters were black, but there was a bright white trim that ran along the top of the house just below the roof.

  The yard was well appointed with several pink rose bushes and a large Japanese maple tree that was just starting to lose its leaves in the fall air. Small rocks bordered the sidewalk that led from the driveway to the porch.

  Penfield walked to the front door. It opened before he had a chance to ring the bell.

  “Mr. Penfield,” Lisa Darden said.

  Their encounter ten years before had been a brief one, but she was one of the many family members that he remembered well. She’d aged a lot in that time, no doubt the result of the grief and tragedy that had made her an instant parent to Christie. Darden was dressed in an oversized burgundy sweater with black tights.

  “Ms. Darden, thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  “I would have said no, but I remembered the kindness you showed me. You were a steady presence when I needed it the most.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Please, come in,” she said, and she stepped back to allow Penfield to enter.

  Penfield walked inside the foyer and saw it was lined with family photos. He’d not met Angela’s family, but he recognized her brother and sister-in-law from the investigation. It didn’t take him long to spot a photograph of the young Christie. There were several photos of her, all chronicling her growth.

  “This is a recent one of Christie,” Darden said.

  She walked toward the wall on Penfield’s left and pointed to a photo of Christie. The young woman looked a lot like Angela, but he didn’t mention that.

  “She’s a senior this year. She’s already applied to ten universities. I’m sure she’ll get into all of them,” Darden continued.

  “Does she have a favorite?”

  “If she does, she’s keeping it a secret. Would you like something to drink? An iced tea perhaps?”

  “That would be great.”

  “I make all of my tea sweet. Does that work for you?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am? Please, you’ll make me feel old.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Right this way.”

  Darden led Penfield into the living room where he had a seat on a chair by the window. She excused herself to go to the kitchen. Darden returned a moment later with two large glasses of tea. She handed Penfield his and then sat on the chair opposite him. Penfield had a long drink. Apparently, he was thirstier than he realized.

  “Excellent tea. Believe it or not, it’s hard to find good sweet tea these days,” he said.

  “That’s why I make my own. Now, what brings you to my door ten years later?”

  “As I said on the phone, I apologize in advance for the painful memories this has brought up.”

  She waved his apology away.

  “Thank you, but there’s no reason for you to say that. It’s not like a day passes that I don’t think about what happened. Sometimes that feeling of grief stays with me all day. Other times it’s just a passing moment, but it’s always there.”

  Penfield paused a long moment. He had a series of questions to ask Lisa Darden, but he knew what her response would be.

  Why are you asking me this?

  He would have to tell her about Marcus Carter and the new killings and that would inevitably lead to panic.

  “I have a few questions about Angela, specifically about the day she died.”

  “It’s been ten years. Why now?”

  “I want to be clear that I don’t believe you or your family is in any danger,” Penfield said.

  And there it was. The look of fear passed her eyes before she even had a chance to fully process what he’d said.

  “Has something happened?” Darden asked.

  “I’ve been to see Marcus Carter twice in the last week.”

  “Why wo
uld you see that monster?”

  “I was brought into a case by the FBI. They needed to get some information from Marcus, and they weren’t having any luck on their own.”

  “And they thought you might get him to talk because of your relationship with him?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What kind of information were they looking for?”

  “A few women have been killed recently. The pattern fits the crimes that Marcus Carter committed.”

  Darden looked away. She stared out the window. Penfield heard a noise and realized a moment later it was the ice cubes rattling in her glass. He looked down and saw Darden’s hands trembling.

  “Again, Ms. Darden, I feel confident that you and Christie are safe.”

  “Then why are you here?” she asked, and she turned back to him.

  “Marcus is demanding to see Angela. He said these new killings will stop if the FBI brings her to see him.”

  “He doesn’t know Angela is dead?”

  “I told him, but he doesn’t believe me.”

  “You don’t believe it yourself either. That’s what you want to talk to me about.”

  “I’m not sure what to believe. But I am here to talk to you about the day she disappeared,” Penfield said.

  “Disappeared? Not died?”

  “Her body was never found, but you already know that.”

  “Excuse me a moment,” Darden said, and she stood.

  She left the living room and walked down the hallway, presumably to one of the bedrooms. Penfield waited about five minutes. He passed the time looking at the artwork on the living room walls. He thought he recognized the work as belonging to Georgia O’Keeffe. Most of them were images of large flowers and desert landscapes.

  When it became apparent that Lisa Darden wasn’t returning, Penfield stood and looked around the room for a piece of paper to leave her a note and apologize once again for drudging up the past.

  He’d just spotted a notepad on a nearby table when he heard her walking back down the hallway. She entered the living room and Penfield saw a folded piece of paper in her hand. She walked over to him and handed him the paper.

  “This is the note I found in Angela’s house. It’s a letter to Christie. Angela apologized for the role she played in her parents’ death.”

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Penfield said.

  “I realize that now. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I hated Angela for the longest time. Most of the members of our family did. We blamed her for bringing Marcus Carter into our lives. We thought…no, I should say, I thought, that she should have known better, that she should have recognized that something was deeply wrong with him. But how could she have? He fooled everyone.”

  “Including me,” Penfield said.

  He opened the note and read the first few sentences. It was as Darden had indicated.

  “Have you shown this letter to Christie?” he asked.

  “No, and I don’t know that I ever will. She doesn’t blame Angela, so why would I ever open the door to that possibility?”

  “I heard that Angela left something for you at the fishing pier where she took her life.”

  “Yes, it was a large envelope pinned to the dock. One of the fishermen found it and called me. I drove over there and discovered that Angela had left a note for me inside the envelope. She explained why she was taking her life. She also told me that she’d left things for Christie at her house. I drove over there after calling the police. Angela had left her keys, so I was able to get into the house. I found her last will and testament on her kitchen table. She left everything to Christie, including her house. I sold the house and most of Angela’s possessions and put the money into an investment fund for Christie. Angela had also closed her bank account. She left the cash beside the will. I put that in the investment fund too.”

  “Did it ever seem odd to you the manner in which she took her life?”

  “Yes, I can’t imagine how horrifying that must have been for her. There was also what I found in her bedroom on her nightstand. She had two bottles full of pain pills from her stay in the hospital. She could have easily taken those pills and simply gone to sleep. It would have been painless.”

  There were other easier ways too, Penfield thought, but he didn’t say anything.

  “The FBI, do they have any leads on who is committing these new crimes?” Darden asked.

  “They have leads, but nothing that’s panned out yet.”

  “Why did you say Christie and I weren’t in any danger?”

  “Because Marcus is obsessed with Angela and Angela only.”

  “I don’t see how what Marcus Carter wants makes any difference. Thank God he’s locked up. How could he have anything to do with these new crimes?”

  “The FBI searches every lead, no matter how thin.”

  “Then why aren’t they here talking to me?” Darden asked.

  “Because they’re convinced Angela is gone.”

  Darden nodded.

  “You said a moment ago that you sold most of Angela’s possessions. What didn’t you sell?” Penfield asked.

  Darden pointed toward a painting of a large white flower nearby.

  “These Georgia O’Keeffe prints. Angela was a huge fan of the artist. It just seemed wrong to sell them. I kept them in my storage unit for years. I didn’t hang them up until several months ago. I guess it’s my way of honoring Angela. I know that doesn’t make up for the hateful things I said to her at our last meeting. I wish I could take it all back.”

  “I’m sure Angela understood. You were in pain. We all were.”

  Penfield looked at the Georgia O’Keeffe prints again and remembered seeing them during his one visit to Angela’s house. It had been Marcus’ birthday and Angela had thrown him a surprise party. Penfield had briefly discussed the artwork with her, and she’d told him how she’d longed to visit the O’Keeffe museum one day.

  “I know you think my niece is still alive, Mr. Penfield. How I wish to God you were right. But she’s gone. As far as I’m concerned, she was Marcus Carter’s last victim.”

  “Thank you for your time. I appreciate everything you told me.”

  “Of course,” Darden said, and she led him back into the foyer.

  Darden opened the door and sunshine flooded into the room.

  “It looks like we’re in for a beautiful day after all of this rain,” she continued.

  “Yes. I don’t know about you, but I could use a day of sun.”

  Penfield stepped onto the front porch, but then he turned back to Darden.

  “Ms. Darden, one more question. Do you remember how much cash Angela left on the kitchen table?”

  “I do. It was exactly ten thousand dollars. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m sorry, I was just curious.”

  Darden looked at him suspiciously and he knew she hadn’t bought his lie. She didn’t press him for another answer, though.

  “Thank you again and I’m glad that Christie has turned into such a fine young lady. It’s surely a testament to the way you’ve raised her.”

  “Thank you for your kindness.”

  Penfield nodded and he left the Darden household.

  17

  The Message

  Penfield was only halfway back to his cabin in Elkton when he received a phone call from McMahon. Another faceless body had turned up in Hope Mills, North Carolina. It was a small town and was south of the much larger Fayetteville, both along the I-95 corridor. The victim had been located several feet from a popular walking trail in the woods, just like the first body they’d found.

  McMahon surprised Penfield and asked him to join him for the trip to the crime scene. They agreed to meet at a Park & Ride outside of Richmond, Virginia. Penfield had been waiting less than ten minutes when McMahon pulled into the parking lot. Penfield got out of his car and climbed into McMahon’s SUV.

  “Been waiting long?” McMahon asked.

  “No, I just got here.”

  McMa
hon put the SUV in gear and drove off.

  “Unfortunately, we’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us. Three hours according to the GPS.”

  “Did you get an ID on the body yet? Is it Kara Carr?”

  “Don’t know. The local PD printed her. Hopefully we’ll hear something before we get down there.”

  “Were you able to locate any Kara Carrs after that meeting with Marcus?” Penfield asked.

  “We found ten. None of them have a criminal record. Three of them live relatively close to I-95. One is seventy-five years old, so we discounted her. The other is eight years old.”

  “And the third?”

  “A thirty-four-year-old in South Carolina. If Marcus was telling the truth, then she’s almost certainly our victim.”

  “Did you try to reach her?”

  “We’ve been trying since the meeting. We did reach her brother. He said she’s been missing the past few days.”

  “Then it’s her,” Penfield said.

  “Looks like it.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then Penfield turned to McMahon.

  “I was wondering if you could check on something for me.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “I met with Angela Darden’s aunt earlier today. She told me that Angela closed her bank account and left the cash at her home for her niece, Christie. It was ten thousand dollars.”

  “You want me to see if that was actually the amount in her account when she closed it?”

  “I think it’s a surefire way to see if Angela is still alive.”

  “Maybe not. She could have given the rest of the money to someone else or maybe even some charity.”

  “Or she could have used it to start a new life somewhere else. Angela was a smart person. It wouldn’t be that hard for her to get a new identity. She knew the tricks and it’s not like police work was the only thing she could do,” Penfield said.

  McMahon didn’t reply.

  “There’s something else I didn’t tell you.”