I felt rush of relief, but I didn’t want to say anything more to stop the momentum Faraday was building, so I simply let him continue.
Faraday put the file down and lifted another photo. “I keep coming back to this,” he said. The image showed me squinting at Payton, a look of shock on my face, and next to me, Stubby was gazing at the pretty cheerleader with shy fascination and adoration. His cheeks were flushed, and he had this hopeful smile on his face. He looked boyish and sweet—not sick in the head. Faraday tapped Stubby’s image. “He doesn’t look like anything but a love-struck kid,” he said, mirroring my thoughts. “We had a psychologist sit with him, and nothing about that interview came back with any hint of violence or repressed rage. Just the opposite, actually. According to our guy, Arnold’s IQ is at genius level, but he’s humble about his intelligence. And although he struggles a little socially, he doesn’t seem to hold it against anyone. So either Schroder’s the greatest young con man we’ve ever met, or he really is a shy, smart kid who tried to warn a pretty girl that she had a date with death on her birthday. And maybe he’s also a good friend who wants people to believe in you so that mothers don’t have to bury their sons.”
I found myself nodding. “I swear,” I told him. “That’s all it was, Agent Faraday. Stubby would never hurt Payton or Tevon. He’s the nicest kid you’ve ever met. He was trying to find a way to save them both.”
Faraday reached back into his drawer and pulled out another file, this one secured with a thick rubber band. “I have to turn this over to your uncle today,” he said. “It’s all the evidence we’ve collected against Arnold. One of the biggest pieces of evidence we found at both Tevon Tibbolt’s crime scene and Payton Wyly’s is a set of size twelve boot prints. It’s pretty muddy on the banks of the Waliki River, and we found those boot prints all over the place, leading up to the road.
“It’s always bothered me that Schroder wears a size nine shoe, and we searched his closet. He owns four pairs of sneakers and one pair of leather loafers. No boots. I thought we had him when we found his dad’s boots in his mom’s closet, but they’re the wrong size, too, and the wrong tread.”
I nodded; Donny had told me the same thing. Plus, Stubby would never wear any shoe he couldn’t skateboard in. I said that to Agent Faraday and he grunted, tapping the folder on the edge of his desk like he was thinking deeply. Then he set it flat on his desk again and pointed to it. “This also includes a copy of that file your uncle gave us—the one of the kid in Willow Mill who was murdered. Guess what was found there?”
“Boot prints?” I guessed.
Faraday nodded. “Yep. Size twelve. Hell, even my guy in D.C. admitted to me on the phone today that he thinks it’s the same killer for all three kids. Cigarettes found at the scene of Carter’s murder match the type found at the other two scenes, but the DNA on all the cigarettes rules out both you and Schroder.”
I blinked. “I thought it would take a long time to get the DNA back?”
Faraday lifted his eyes from the folder. “Carter’s case was submitted back in August. The results came in last week, so we had the cigarettes from the other two murders expedited through the federal lab, which isn’t nearly as backed up as the city labs. The results came in while I was grading your stack. Turns out none of the DNA matches you kids, or the blood on the knife, which turns out to be Schroder’s. And yet, all the cigarettes were used by one lone individual who apparently has never had a criminal record, because his DNA isn’t in our system.”
I closed my eyes. I felt a mixture of relief and also anger. “Why?” I whispered.
“Why, what?” Faraday replied.
I opened my eyes. “If you knew all of this, why are you still keeping Stubby in jail?”
Faraday sighed, but at least he had the courage to hold my gaze. “We had to be sure, Maddie. And like I said, a lot of this just came in, and so much of the early circumstantial evidence pointed to you two.”
“Are you sure now?” I asked, crossing my fingers.
He shut the file, but I could tell immediately that he wasn’t going to give in quite that easy. Pointing to the file again he said, “Like I said, Maddie, I’m going to give that to your uncle. He’ll file a motion to have the case against Schroder kicked out for lack of evidence, and while he’s doing that, we’ll have a talk with the DA and tell him not to fight it.”
It was a long time before I could say anything. At last I stood up and whispered, “Thank you, Agent Faraday. Thank you very much.”
“Don’t thank me, Maddie. Until we catch this guy, we’ll continue to keep an eye on both you and Schroder.”
I pressed my lips together and looked at the floor. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.”
There was a knock on Faraday’s door, and I lifted my chin to see Agent Wallace standing there with his coat on and a somber expression. “We got another missing kid, Mack.”
Faraday paled. “When?”
Wallace glanced warily at me but kept talking. “Call just came in. A thirteen-year-old from Poplar Hollow was supposed to meet his mother at their house at three fifteen for a doctor’s appointment. Kid never showed and was last seen leaving school about ten minutes before three.”
Faraday glanced at his watch. “It’s only twenty after four,” he said. “Is she sure he didn’t just forget?”
“The kid asked his teacher if he could leave class five minutes early so he could make it home in time. The mom started calling his phone over and over, and then she went out to look for him. She said she heard his ringtone and found his cell on the sidewalk—but no sign of him.”
“Name?” Faraday asked.
“Nathan Murphy.”
I sucked in a breath.
“You know him?” Faraday and Wallace both asked me.
“Sort of,” I said. “I used to babysit for his little brother.”