Chapter Twenty-Nine
Haze
“You need quicker reflexes, love!” The mechanic with the baseball cap had scoffed at my dramatic reenaction of a deer hopping out in front of me.
As predicted, he had not questioned my story, merely patted my shoulder, understanding that it wasn’t my fault my womanhood limited my reaction speed and spatial awareness.
Jenny had driven me back to the scene of the crime, as Fox needed to be in the office. His assistant Richard had insisted he come in early to prepare for their meeting with a potential new client.
We waited until the garage pickup truck had removed Fox’s dented car from the country lane, then walked down to the Airbnb.
“This house is rented until the day after the Balgray Hall party. I’m thinking Joe Jones is The Chameleon, and they’ve been using it as a base to plot whatever the hell they’re going to do at the party.”
“And Danny?”
“He was standing guard. Maybe they’d positioned a camera at the top of the lane? Or Fox’s car triggered an alarm, and he was going to see who was coming?”
We stood outside the house. It was two stories and red brick with a glass extension. It had looked eerie in the darkness last night; now it just looked ugly. Ugly and clearly empty. No cars in the drive. No lights on. No response to the doorbell we’d rung repeatedly.
Once Jenny had established there were no cameras anywhere in the vicinity, she’d used a rock to smash the ground-floor bathroom window and we’d climbed in.
The large wooden table in the center of the open-plan kitchen–dining room had several glossy eight-by-ten photographs laid out on it.
I walked up to it and took it all in.
Jenny joined me. “What the hell is all this? Pretty bloody random.”
I stared down at the photos. A skillet pan. A broken bottle of Cristal. A long green scarf. A police badge. A pair of pliers. A nightclub paper napkin. A chocolate-bar wrapper.
I’d seen it instantly. “These are all linked to us. To our kills.” I touched each of the photographs, one by one. “A skillet pan was what I used to kill one of my first men…A bottle of Cristal is what we used to knock out a man in Capri…Our third victim had been wearing a scarf just like this one…”
Jenny had picked up the police badge photo and stared at the number engraved on it. “That’s…that’s Bill’s! How the hell did they get that?”
Bill Grundy, Jenny’s ex, had “disgraced police officer” as well as “deadbeat dad” on his résumé.
“The Chameleon knows everything! What the hell does he have planned for you at Balgray?”
“Maybe it’s a killers’ convention. We get to unionize. Compare notes on dump sites.” Fox’s therapist might suggest I was guilty of frequently using humor to mask emotion—and I’d say, “Well, yes, loser. It’s better to laugh than to moan.”
I stared at the table. I picked up the photo of the chocolate-bar wrapper. It was from a Twix bar. I frowned at it for a moment before it hit me with a chill. “We were eating these on our way to dump Clark Dixon.”
We looked at each other as we took in what this meant.
“He’s never stopped watching you.” Jenny chewed on her thumbnail. “I’m betting he started that fire at the dump site.”
He was the reason we’d missed Bibi’s ballet show? I would kill him even more slowly than I’d originally planned.
My phone pinged. The Chameleon himself.
Do you like my surprise? I didn’t like yours. Don’t think you can outmaneuver me, Haze.
I tapped back.
Danny was a friend of yours?
Danny was a loose end. You saved me the trouble.
Was that true? Or bravado?
Seems like you know all the men in my past. Lovers and victims.
A pause. Then:
I know everything about you, Haze. I could send the authorities all the evidence I have on your crimes. But I’m choosing to let you be free.
I walked to the window and looked out.
I got your invitation to Balgray Hall. I’m guessing RSVPing “no” isn’t a good idea?
Attendance is mandatory for you and your husband. Or the police get a little care package of some of your past highlights. We need to talk. In person.
I showed my phone to Jenny and nodded at the front door.
Just talk?
Jenny gently opened the door and slipped outside.
If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.
Why Balgray?
I watched Jenny walking up and down outside the house. She was looking up at the trees.
It’s a secure location. You can’t try anything.
He was right about that. We couldn’t risk ruining our cover as a nice, normal couple by going in there with our weapons raised.
Is it your retirement party? You fucking off for good is something to celebrate.
His reply was instant.
It will be a memorable goodbye.
Jenny shook her head at me and motioned for me to come outside.
We got back into Jenny’s car. “There could be a hidden camera. Or maybe he had someone follow us here.”
I chewed on my lip. “He’s been keeping tabs on us this whole time.”
Jenny started the engine and turned to me. “How do you think he’s been kept in the loop? How is he so up to date on what you’ve been doing?”
“He must have had people watching us.” I felt a creeping dread as I realized it wasn’t a case of if we’d been under surveillance, but more for how long.
The only solace was that we knew the house was clear. Jenny had been militant with her frequent bug-detecting sweeps. No one could’ve planted any listening devices within our home without us realizing.
“You can’t trust anyone you’ve met in the last year.
He’s a well-connected criminal with unlimited means.
Anyone could’ve been recruited and parachuted in to report to him on your lives.
” Jenny started the engine. “Start thinking of anyone who could be working for him. Anyone who’s now a part of your life. Who maybe doesn’t quite fit.”
“Jen, you know how shit our social life is, right?”
“What about the gym? School? The neighborhood?”
Something clicked. Someone who didn’t seem right.
“Mr. McCabe! Bibi’s hot new class teacher.
” I took out my phone. “Here! Look.” I googled and clicked on the school’s website, zooming in on his grinning photo.
“He’s an ex-army twenty-six-year-old who looks like a male model and is now teaching kids their times tables.
He started as a temp last month when Bibi’s teacher had a car accident. ”
Jenny stared at his photo and nearly swerved the car. “He’s a primary school teacher?”
“You should’ve seen parents’ evening. I’ve never seen so much makeup and hair flicking for discussions on the phonetic alphabet.”
“Okay, I’ll check him out. Any other red flags? Anyone who’s appeared in your life? Or been trying to insert themselves into it?”
I tried to think over the last few months. “I guess Frederica, the leather-trousered mum I’ve told you about. She seems weirdly keen to hang out. But maybe it’s just because our kids are both very talented at acting.”
Jenny shook her head. “She’s a school mum; she’s probably interested in you for more basic reasons, like she’s really bored, or wants to nose around your house, or thinks you might be actual friends.”
I tried to imagine Frederica in sunglasses, staking out our house. “I can’t imagine someone who’s an Instagram influencer being a good choice for covert spying.”
Or maybe that was the whole trick? Someone whose life you thought was open, someone you thought had everything on display, could actually be hiding the most of all.
We’d thought we were home free when it came to our past crimes. A closed chapter. The past was happily behind us. And now The Chameleon was here to remind us we weren’t as safe as we thought we were. You’re only not in prison right now because I’m choosing to let you be free.
I wasn’t one for looking back. I felt the same about my victims as I did about my exes. Once you were done with them, you really didn’t want to ever think of them again. Dispatched and done for. Dead. Dead to me. Same thing.
Danny had dared to turn up back in my life, and look how that had ended. And now someone was taunting me with past receipts on past kills.
This jaunt down memory lane was going to mean a lot more bodies.