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  Winter’s Web

  Winter Black Series: Book Seven

  Mary Stone

  Copyright © 2019 by Mary Stone

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To my husband.

  Thank you for taking care of our home and its many inhabitants while I follow this silly dream of mine.

  Contents

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Winter Black Series by Mary Stone

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Description

  Some secrets hurt; others can kill...

  The Preacher is dead, the case solved, but now Special Agent Winter Black’s missing brother seems to be taunting her, leaving a trail that leads back to their old house in Harrisonburg. As she learns more, Winter must fight the urge to revert back to that primal part of herself that was set on secrecy and vengeance during the investigation of her parents’ murder. Especially now that her best friend and partner, Noah Dalton’s, own past has come back to play.

  Noah’s father, Eric, has borrowed money from the Russian mob, but won’t give the FBI the whole story, even though his daughter and son-in-law have been kidnapped and the clock is ticking on their lives. What is he hiding? And who will pay the price?

  A dirty cop, a RICO case, and more lies than truth. Can Winter and Noah sort out the pieces and put the puzzle together before the hostages’ expiration date? Or has it been too late from the beginning?

  Book six of Mary Stone’s page-turning Winter Black Series, Winter's Secret is a twisty, roller-coaster of a ride that doesn't let up until the very last page.

  1

  As Nathaniel Arkwell stepped out of the garage and eased the door closed behind himself, he noticed right away that the house was far quieter than usual. Turning the deadbolt back into place, he glanced around the mudroom, taking in the bench, the few pairs of shoes beneath it, and the jackets that hung from hooks on the other side.

  The space was immaculate. Even the black chalkboard above the bench had been recently wiped clean. Nathaniel’s daughter, Maddie, had made the board over the summer to help her remember important school functions.

  The knack for organization was a trait she’d inherited from him. In all Maddie’s seventeen years of life, Nathaniel could count on one hand the number of times he’d had to remind her to clean her room. More often than not, her bedroom was every bit as tidy as his home office.

  He was grateful for the common ground he and Maddie had discovered as she grew older. They maintained an open dialogue about everything from her senior geology class to the navigation of the high school social scene.

  However, a knack for cleanliness was virtually the only thing Nathaniel and his college-aged son had in common. In the eleven years since Katrina Arkwell—Nathaniel’s beloved wife and the mother of his children—died, the gap between him and Cameron had only widened. He’d made a valiant effort to bridge the veritable canyon between them, but to no avail.

  The thought coaxed a sigh from his lips. Sometimes, he thought Katrina had been the only thing that kept his son tethered to the real world.

  With one foot, Nathaniel shoved both shiny black dress shoes beneath the bench before he made his way through the hall and into the spacious kitchen.

  A tinge of light was visible through the picture windows at the other end of the room. The splash of color was all that remained of the sun’s rays. For the third night in a row, he hadn’t gotten home from work until after the sun had disappeared below the horizon.

  Like the mudroom, the kitchen was spotless. The housecleaning staff had already left for the day, and apparently, no one had been through the house since. If Cameron or Maddie had used the kitchen, there would be evidence of their pit stop. As neat as they were, there would be, at the very least, the faint smell of pizza or tacos. Maddie had recently discovered a love for onions, so Nathaniel was certain he’d still be able to smell her last meal.

  No, he already knew that neither of his children were home. He couldn’t stop yet another sigh, this one in relief, at the knowledge. He loved his children, but quiet wasn’t a privilege he often received.

  Cameron attended classes at Virginia Commonwealth University and Maddie was a high school senior, but their days off tended to correspond with one another. Tomorrow was a weekday, but neither of them had class, Nathaniel remembered. Maddie sent him a text earlier in the day to ask if she could stay overnight with a friend, and he’d given her his blessing.

  And with Cameron? Well, who knew. Nathaniel could only hope he was at a kegger or a bar. Some place conducive to the activities of a normal college kid.

  Nathaniel strode through the kitchen and the breakfast area, his stocking feet little more than a whisper of sound. He shrugged off his messenger bag as he headed past the great room and to the base of the staircase. Aside from the usual recessed lights and a floor lamp, no other fixtures had been turned on.

  Feeling much older than his forty-four years, he ascended to the open loft of the second floor. From the raised vantage point, he took one last look over the living area and what he could see of the kitchen and breakfast room. Still, there was no movement.

  Though he had no reason to think danger awaited him on the second floor of the house, the hairs on the back of his neck rose to attention at the unsettling quiet.

  Clenching his jaw, he gave himself a mental shake, hoping to rid himself of the sudden bout of paranoia. The outside of the house was monitored twenty-four-seven via a system of security cameras and motion sensor lights. Inside, the alarm system came with around the clock backup support of one of the city’s best regarded personal security firms.

  Well, if there were no children or employees who needed his attention, he might as well take the opportunity to get a head start on some work.

  In part because the house was so clean, and in part because he’d just been in his office that afternoon, Nathaniel noticed the envelope as soon as he flicked the switch that brought the floor lamp in the corner to life.

  There, in the center of the polished mahogany corner desk set a nondescript white envelope. His first thought was that Maddie had surprised him with one of the charms she’d taught herself to make. But as he drew nearer, he knew the handwriting wasn’t Maddie’s.

  The handwriting belonged to his son.

  Nathaniel wasn’t convinced that Cameron was a bad kid, but the boy was…odd. He por
trayed himself much differently to his classmates and even his sister than he did to his father. To them, Cameron was a normal, twenty-two-year-old undergraduate student.

  But to Nathaniel, he was someone else entirely.

  Nathaniel was allergic to cats, and after an attempt to bring in a guinea pig for Maddie when she was eight, Nathaniel was finally grateful for the allergy. Porky the guinea pig went missing a couple weeks after Maddie brought him home.

  At first, Nathaniel just assumed that his eight-year-old daughter had left the door to the cage unlocked, and Porky made a run for freedom. As far as he’d been concerned at the time, the loss was a normal part of growing up and learning responsibility. He hadn’t been harsh with Maddie when he sat her down to discuss the guinea pig’s absence, but she was still adamant that she’d been diligent in looking after her pet.

  The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, but there was still no sign of Porky.

  Then, that spring, their longtime housekeeper, Martha, had been digging in the garden to tend to her yearly vegetable patch. The remains were highly decomposed at that point, but Martha pulled Nathaniel aside to show him the body not long after she found it. Nathaniel had never excelled at anatomy or possessed any other medical expertise, but even he could tell that Porky had been ripped to pieces before the poor thing was buried.

  A coyote, maybe. Or a cat. He’d assured the woman that Porky had been attacked by a wild animal, nothing more. It was just something that happened.

  Porky was the first, but the guinea pig was far from the last.

  Eventually, after Martha caught Cameron dissecting a small dog, she put in her two weeks’ notice, and Nathaniel had given her a huge severance bribe to ensure she kept her mouth closed regarding the incident. There had been posters all around the neighborhood for weeks after the incident, each offering a cash reward for an update on the pup’s whereabouts. Each time Nathaniel saw one, he felt physically ill.

  Even then, he’d convinced himself that Cameron’s fascination with the inner workings of living creatures was normal. Maybe Cameron would become a doctor or a surgeon, maybe that was why he’d taken to chopping up small animals.

  But somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known.

  After Porky, Nathaniel didn’t permit any more pets. He’d caved and gotten Maddie an aquarium a year ago, but he figured fish were a safe enough option.

  Leaning his messenger bag against the side of the desk, Nathaniel dropped down to sit in the leather office chair. As he picked up the envelope, a small object shifted inside.

  Though he expected a slip of paper to explain the contents, the only item sealed within was a cheap plastic flash drive.

  As he dropped the device into his palm, his mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. Swallowing against the unpleasant dryness, he reluctantly opened his laptop and pressed a button to bring the screen to life.

  There was only one file on the drive. A video.

  Nathaniel raked a shaky hand through his hair as he opened the file.

  When he spotted the length, his eyes widened. Four hours?

  As he gritted his teeth, he leaned in closer to squint at the screen. The camera had been placed high up in a corner of the dim room, either mounted to the wall or atop a shelf. Aside from a twin-sized bed against the far wall, a wooden chair, and an end table, the space was unadorned. He thought he saw the shape of a person tucked beneath the blankets, but the area was cloaked in shadows, and he couldn’t be sure.

  He hovered an index finger above the trackpad, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he willed himself to press play.

  For the first few moments, he thought the video wasn’t a video at all. He did such a thorough job convincing himself that the image was a still that he almost leapt out of his seat when the shadows along the bed shifted.

  A young woman sat upright, her movements hurried as she flung off the dark comforter. Her head snapped from side to side, but the recording had been made with no audio. Though Nathaniel could see that she was speaking, he couldn’t hear anything aside from the uneasy stillness of the empty house around him.

  He didn’t recognize the room, didn’t recognize the girl, the furniture, none of it.

  Nathaniel took in a sharp breath as the young woman climbed out of bed.

  One of her ankles was shackled. Wherever she was, she had been chained to a wall.

  Mouth agape, he watched in stunned silence as she made her way around the room to inspect the walls and the floor. Either she didn’t notice the camera, or the device had been hidden.

  As Nathaniel caught a glimpse of her panicked expression, he hoped that this was some sort of film project—some artsy representation of human trafficking or the start of a homemade horror movie. As long as everyone involved was consenting, he didn’t care what the video was.

  But the more he looked at her terrified countenance, the more and more certain he became that she wasn’t in that room of her own volition.

  It was a film project. It had to be.

  Cameron rarely discussed his school courses with Nathaniel. He must have enrolled in an elective film class to satisfy a general education requirement.

  That’s what this was. He was sure of it.

  No matter how convincing his rationalization, Nathaniel couldn’t fight off the tightness in his throat as he watched the blonde woman tuck her knees up to her chin at the foot of the bed.

  As much as he wanted to know what else the video might have captured, he couldn’t sit and watch the girl’s frightened movements for four whole hours. After a steadying breath, he tapped the fast-forward button.

  She didn’t move from the bed until the half-hour mark, and even then, she was back on the mattress within ten minutes. At the accelerated pace, he could almost trick himself into thinking her movements were no longer frightened or panicked.

  The two-hour mark passed, then three, then four, and still no change. Just as he was sure the entire video was merely footage of the young woman in the dim room, the screen flashed to black.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Nathaniel tapped the touchpad again to bring the pace back to normal.

  When the black screen flipped back to the video of the room, the space was bathed in the bright glow of what Nathaniel assumed were stage lights.

  The woman was no longer alone.

  There was only enough of the man’s skin visible to confirm that he was Caucasian, but otherwise, he was clad in black from head to toe. Even the eyeholes of his ski mask were covered with a pair of dark sunglasses.

  As the man approached his captive huddled on the concrete floor, Nathaniel could hear little over the pounding of his pulse. Bile stung the back of his throat, but he couldn’t so much as will himself to swallow. All his attention, all his energy, everything he had was fixed on the event unfolding on his computer screen.

  The stage lights glinted off the tear streaking down her flushed cheeks as the woman scrambled away from the man’s advance.

  Her effort was futile. She’d backed into a corner. There was no escape.

  As swift as a venomous snake, the man snapped one arm out and clamped a gloved hand around her throat.

  She shouted and tried to shove him away, but the attempted rebuff was in vain.

  Nathaniel didn’t know what to expect next. He didn’t know who the man was, and despite the close vantage point, he still didn’t recognize the girl.

  It’s a film project, he reminded himself.

  A film project.

  Silver flashed beneath the bright lights as the man produced a butcher knife from behind his back. With the same unnerving quickness, he pressed the blade to her throat.

  There was no audio, but Nathaniel could clearly make out the word “please” as she pressed herself farther into the corner. Unperturbed, the man clamped a gloved hand over her mouth, shoved her head back, and dragged the knife across her throat.

  “Jesus Christ!” Nathaniel exclaimed, jumping back from the la
ptop so hard and fast that his chair crashed into the wall.

  Blood. So much blood.

  As her head lolled and her lifeless blue eyes turned toward the camera, Nathaniel closed his own.

  It was a film project. It was a homemade horror movie, and the blonde was a damn good actress. Fake blood could be purchased by the gallons. Prosthetics used to mimic wounds of every size.

  Yes.

  That was it. That was the only possible explanation.

  A film project.

  It had to be.

  2

  Before he pressed the enter key to initiate the video call, Ryan O’Connelly raked a hand through his hair and sighed. For almost an entire year, he’d crept through life in the shadows. The darkness had become his new normal, anonymity his new mode of operation. If he kept his head down and stuck to the shadows, he had a chance to avoid detection by either the Federal Bureau of Investigation or any of the law enforcement agencies that’d be happy to take him down.

  He was used to life on the run, but he was used to worrying about one person and one person only. Himself.

  But now, he wasn’t alone anymore.

  Less than a week after the ordeal with Heidi Presley—a certifiable psychopath who’d left a trail of bodies in her wake as she went around the country to recreate a series of legendary heists—Ryan had received a desperate message from his little sister. That had been nine months before. At the time, Ryan had been able to get his sister and her children to safety. But to what end? So that they could fear that each knock on the door would be the law coming to get them?