Chapter Forty-Three
Fox
Haze had been surprisingly upbeat all day.
It was almost as if she was relieved.
We were in our bedroom getting ready for dinner out. Haze was at her dressing table, applying eyeliner. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve got this far without a father, why the fuck would I need one now?”
“I’m sorry. Getting taken in by Mike was all my fault.”
Haze looked up at me in the mirror. “If you go behind my back again, I will cut you.”
I nodded. “Totally fair enough.”
I was going to do better.
I could see it now. I’d been self-pitying and self-indulgent. Worrying about letting my family down had nearly made me let my family down.
Stop looking inside. Start looking out.
Had I heard that on one of my inspirational recordings, or did I just come up with it myself?
Balgray Hall. We had one week to go. We might still be walking into a trap when we turned up masked and ready to party, but at least we’d now located a hidden exit. If things went bad, we had a way out.
My mood had been helped by the fact that Jenny had undertaken an extensive background search on Sally.
She’d checked her bank accounts and gone through her mobile phone records, and had even spent a day following her.
According to Jenny, she was clean—except for a couple of reports on questionable conduct, which Jenny couldn’t fully access without a warrant.
The reports may have been a mild concern, but the main takeaway was that she was a bona fide therapist who did not appear to be involved with any European gangs.
The relief for me was huge.
The doorbell rang, and I went down to let in Jessica, who was going to be babysitting for us.
She was the niece of one of our neighbors and charged three times the going rate, as she was training to be a Norland Nanny.
I was pretty sure their supposedly elite training didn’t extend to what to do if an international assassin tried to break in, but we were confident she could hold the fort for the hour and a half we were out at a neighborhood dinner.
By the time we were standing on the doorstep of a large detached new build on a quiet street, all jagged lines and a glass extension, I realized Haze hadn’t fully explained exactly who we were having dinner with.
“Who are these people again?”
“Best-case scenario, they’re just school parents who want to be friends. Worst-case, they’re working for The Chameleon to bring about our untimely death and destruction.”
The door flung open. “Welcome!” Frederica was in a tight black dress with a low-cut neckline. “Come on in.” We followed her into the dining room, and a flurry of hellos were exchanged with her husband, Roger, a short man who introduced himself as a “property magnate.”
The table was only set for four.
“An intimate dinner.” Frederica smiled. “We don’t have staff tonight; we’re all alone.”
Frederica kept flicking her hair as Roger droned on about a big property deal he was undertaking with a Russian billionaire. He was a little sketchy on what part he had to play in it all, or what his job actually entailed.
We ate a truffle risotto and made strained small talk, mostly focused on school. I clocked that Haze drank a large gulp of wine every time Frederica mentioned how advanced for their age her children were.
Roger was wearing a patterned shirt that had one too many buttons undone. I had nothing against hairy chests, I just preferred to not be staring at one while I ate.
Frederica leaned toward Haze. “And how are you doing? I mean, really doing?”
Haze shrugged. “Same shit, different day.”
Frederica nodded. “It’s so dull, isn’t it? This just surviving, not really living.”
Roger took a sip of wine. “You can understand why people need to shake things up. To try and live a more exciting life. To feel like you’re really making the most of this one chance on this earth.”
“Especially when you’re hot,” Frederica purred at me as she touched my arm, letting her hand linger there.
I dropped my fork. “I…Yes, it’s important to feel you’re getting the most you can from life.”
Luckily for Frederica, she removed her hand before Haze’s fork stabbed it.
Roger smiled at Fox. “I knew you’d understand how vital it is to have certain excitements to help you feel alive. To stray from the status quo.”
Frederica played with a lock of her hair, curling a tendril around her finger. “We’ve been looking for a couple like you. We feel that you’re more like us than you probably realize.”
Roger nodded. “We all have a dangerous side. Some of us lean into it more than others.”
“We know certain things about you. We have a similar hobby in common.” Frederica smiled.
Haze and I looked at each other. They couldn’t be—could they?
What were the chances of two serial-killing couples living in the same neighborhood? I’d say slim to none. But I guess not impossible.
“We don’t want to be competition for each other,” Frederica said.
“That would not end well for you.” Roger put his arm around his wife.
Were they outing themselves as worthy opponents? Or wanting to get their freak on?
They were giving very mixed messages.
Frederica and Roger both stood. “We’ll leave you for a moment. We need to get dessert.”
We watched them go through to the kitchen and speak quietly to each other as the door swung back behind them.
Haze turned to me and whispered, “Do they want to fuck us or kill us?”
I shrugged. “It’s not clear, is it?”
Haze yawned. “I’m really not up for either.”
I could understand if they’d got wind of the killer part to our personalities.
From the sound of Roger’s dodgy business, it wasn’t a stretch to believe he’d had brushes with The Corporation.
But what about us made it seem like we’d be into swinging?
Unless they always invited over couples they didn’t know and hoped for the best.
Haze stared at the closed kitchen door. “Frederica and Roger could be working for The Chameleon. They could be the ones watching us and messing in our lives.”
I nodded. “Jenny needs to look into him. He could have all kinds of dark contacts who may have got wind of what we’ve been up to.”
“Whatever they’re after, let’s not stick around to find out.”
The door opened and they both walked back in, now holding a can of whipped cream and a bowl of strawberries. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if Roger had undone another button on his shirt.
Haze stood up. “We’re so sorry, but the babysitter can’t get the baby to settle. We need to leave.”
“That’s such a shame! We were just getting comfortable,” said Frederica, as she followed us into the hallway.
We said our goodbyes fast, without using eye contact, and were out of their front door before we’d even put our coats on.
As I helped Haze into hers, I noticed a white moped parked up opposite the house.
The helmeted rider sat atop it, staring at us.
The number plate was indistinguishable thanks to the artfully placed thick smear of mud across it.
I took a step toward him. He started the engine and drove off with a backward glance. Was he a henchman who was bad at covert surveillance, or did The Chameleon want us to know we were being watched?