Chapter Fifty-Two
Fox
“Did you kill them all?”
We were in our kitchen, trying to make it not look like a family of raccoons lived here. Haze was washing up, I was drying. I thought I’d misheard. Until she said it again. My wife. Staring at me. Holding a soapy coffee mug. Asking me if I’d killed behind her back.
She observed me for a quiet few seconds, then spoke again. “Danny groped me. Kristoff ripped me off. And Barry was always fucking me off. And all three of them are dead.”
“You can’t be serious?”
We stared at each other.
“I don’t want to make a big thing of it. But you killed Danny, so I was just wondering if maybe…you killed the others, too.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. You’ve just got to admit it’s weird, right?”
I did see her point. It seemed like an unlikely coincidence.
“I understand why you did it. You were helping me, protecting me…” She trailed off.
“I did not kill them! I mean, yes, I killed Danny. But it wasn’t because of who he was, or what he did.”
“And that artist, Kristoff? We both know how easy it is to make it look like someone just fell off a roof.”
Barcelona in 2011. We’d done exactly that with a would-be rapist we’d come across.
“And when we talked about him, I looked him up, remember? We read his stupid At Home feature about him living in his loft above that insufferably trendy coffee shop?”
I kept quiet. She was right. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve found him. Easily.
“And Barry being right next door would make it easy enough to get to him whenever you wanted!”
“Would you rather it be me betraying you? And not your precious Jenny? You wouldn’t even entertain the thought of her working against us but you’re happy to accuse me!”
Was Haze turning on me because she couldn’t believe her best friend would be the one doing this? Where was her loyalty? I still hadn’t told her about Jenny’s lie about being at the bank. It still sounded petty. I needed more.
Haze slammed the coffee mug onto the drying rack. “I don’t want it to be either of you! I just want to work out what the fuck is going on.”
I gripped her shoulders. “I swear you can trust me. We’re a team.” I paused. “So, next time a man gropes you, you tell me.”
Haze observed me. “As long as you promise you won’t maim or kill him.”
“I can’t totally promise that. But I’ll do my best.”
A pause as we both debated our next move.
Haze relented. “Okay, I believe you. Sorry I had to—”
I waved it off. “I understand. I do.”
For other couples, accusing the other of murder would be a big event. For us, it was a quick kiss and back to the washing-up.
I might have reassured Haze, but now I needed to convince myself.
Was I blacking out and killing people without realizing it?
Could I be fitting that into one of my nighttime escapades?
I mean, didn’t that happen to people? A psychotic break?
Maybe I should check the medication I’d been taking.
Sally had said it was for anxiety, but could blackouts be a side effect?
Although I was pretty sure I’d remember killing someone.
Wouldn’t I? Or was it so natural to me, so much a part of who I was, that I could just do it without thinking?
Three men in our orbit were dead. Three men that Haze had issue with. I may have killed the first one, but wasn’t I set up to? You wave a gun at a killer, of course I was going to react.
It came back to Jenny. Again. Maybe she had a hand in my blackouts. Was she trying to make me question myself. Was she doing this to get me committed? Was I being paranoid in thinking this way, or was I being smart?
Or was all this just The Chameleon messing with us? Sowing division, making us question each other so he could wreak even more havoc when we were fractured?
—
When I left the house, I got a glimpse of a tall man with dark hair on the opposite side of the road. He was talking into his phone with his back to me, sitting on a black moped. Rob’s replacement?
By the time I got into London Paddington, I’d convinced myself he was an innocent bystander. That was right up until I saw him leaving the train ahead of me.
We were still being watched. I guessed Dave wasn’t the only supplier of dodgy men to undertake surveillance jobs. I texted Haze and updated her that she might have a little shadow too.
I did my best to lose mine by taking a small detour to Fortnum and Mason.
I last saw him by the chocolate section, and made it to Sally’s office without seeing him again.
Although really, if he’d done his research, he’d know it was likely I’d either be here or at the Cabot Matthews Investments office.
Sally wasted no time in launching in. “Do you think your wife values you?”
“I…I presume so? I know she loves me.”
“And how does she show that? By the way she tells you all the time? By her actions? What’s her love language?”
I was pretty sure I shouldn’t have to convince my therapist that my wife cared about me. Maybe the whole illusion of them being quiet listeners was just something portrayed on TV. Of course, they were real human beings with opinions. It was just all a bit confusing.
I also didn’t know how to explain that Haze’s love language was simply not wanting to kill me.
She allowed me to touch her. She allowed me to love her.
She didn’t show how she felt with love poems, hand-holding, and presents.
There was an implicit understanding that we belonged to each other.
Through the death we brought and the lives we created, we were entwined together for eternity.
When she looked at me, I knew she loved me.
When she reached for me, I knew she loved me.
She didn’t need to tell me because I already knew.
There was only one time I’d wondered, at a time when we were faltering. But that was pretty clear, because she’d come at me with a knife.
Sally tapped her pen on her notepad. “What I find difficult, Nathaniel, is that you’re clearly a man of exceptional intelligence, warmth, and talent.
For you to feel anything less than good about yourself, it makes me wonder where exactly you’re getting these subversive messages from.
” Sally leaned forward. “No one could look in the mirror, see that reflection looking back at them, and think they were not enough.”
I nodded to myself. It was true that this last year, I had questioned myself.
I hadn’t been able to appreciate all that I had, as I’d been struggling to adjust to a post-Ivrea, post-Reggie life.
I’d lost hours standing in the shower, staring blankly at our Italian marble tiles, wondering if I’d made the right life choices for myself and my family.
There was no denying I’d been a mess, but that wasn’t ever down to Haze.
She had been there for me as best she could.
“I worry you’re in a coercive-control situation, where this woman is undermining your confidence in yourself.”
What on earth? Haze coerced me all the time. But that was to take the bins out. To make sure I stored the breast milk correctly.
Haze had stuck with me through this rough year and helped me find my way back. My own ineptitude leading to her nearly getting kidnapped by the assassin chasing us had been the wake-up call I needed. I wasn’t going to let her down again.
And I had faith in my relationship with my wife, even if my therapist didn’t.
I stared at the diplomas that hung on the wall behind Sally.
Jenny had confirmed they were real, but did what she was saying really have any merit?
I thought of the two confidential reports Jenny had found questioning Sally’s behavior.
If I was starting to lose faith in what she was saying, was there any point in continuing to see her?