“He lied to us,” I whispered, my voice tight with rage. “That bastardlied. He said he’d been in our world for a couple of months, and he’s been working at this company at leasttwo years ago. Grant said he refused to be in any other photographs, so he was being careful to hide evidence of his presence.”
Quoth frowned at the picture. “Do you think this is the real reason Sherlock didn’t want your help investigating Morrie’s case? He knew it would lead you to Kate’s boss, and he didn’t want you to find that photograph.”
“Exactly. Butwhy?What does it matter that he works for the same company as Kate? Why would it make Sherlock not consider Grant a suspect? If anything, it should make him more suspicious. He had to know Grant was a complete bastard—” My eyes widened. “This means Sherlock could have been at the Wild Oats retreat when Kate first disappeared. He’s deeper in this than he wants us to believe.”
“He’s determined to pin the murder on one of Morrie’s crime buddies,” Quoth pointed out. “What if it’s to divert attention from Grant or someone else at Ticketrrr?”
“Exactly.” My blood ran cold. “Or… from himself.”
“You realize what this means.” Quoth’s dark eyes bore into mine. “Morrie’s trapped in that cabin with our main suspect.”
I clung to Quoth as the horror of it washed over me, turning my blood to ice. All this time I assumed he was here to win back Morrie’s love. But could Sherlock Holmes be our killer?
Chapter Twenty-Six
“That poxy bastard,” Heathcliff’s fingers scrunched the corners of the photograph.
After another tearful goodbye to Oscar and Edie, Quoth and I returned to the shop, where I’d thrust the photograph into Heathcliff’s huge hands and spilled the whole story.
“Careful.” I swiped it back. “I need that as evidence. Besides, it doesn’t mean he’sdefinitelythe killer. I’ve looked through all the messages between Grant and Kate. This guy was total scum. After she rejected his advances, he brought Tara onboard as a cosplay consultant and brand ambassador even though he knew Kate had the exact contacts in the industry. When he started seeing Tara, Grant would share lewd details about their weekends with Kate just to make her miserable. And when she made a complaint about him, he got all his dude-bros on the team to back him up, and say Kate misinterpreted his ‘boyish banter’ as harassment. Grant’s last words to her, a couple of weeks before they all left for Wild Oats, were ‘You’d better watch your back. No one wants a wet blanket on the Ticketrrr team. We’ve already taken care of your little events company. Make another complaint like that, and Tara and I will make sure you pay.’”
“That sounds like a threat,” Heathcliff growled.
“It’sabsolutelya threat. Was it what sent Kate over the edge and convinced her to go through with the fake death? But if her death was so successful, why come back to England at all? Why not stay in the Philippines? Did she come back for Dave? I don’t believe he’s seen her alive – he doesn’t seem like a guy who knows how to lie convincingly. Or did Kate have altruistic motives? Maybe she saw Grant was recruiting more young, hot women from the cosplay scene. She decided to come back and warn them off, and that’s why Grant hasn’t been able to keep a developer since. Maybe Grant figured out it was Kate scaring off all his potential creeping victims and so he decided to get revenge—”
My phone buzzed. I grabbed for it. “Morrie, are you okay—”
“Mina, I need to speak with you.” Dave’s voice cracked. He soundedterrified. “Can you meet me at my place? Please? I don’t have anyone else to turn to, and I need to show you the truth about my wife’s murder.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You’re not going in there alone.” Heathcliff grabbed my arm as I shot out of the rideshare. “This guy is still on our suspect list.”
“Dave knows me. If I run in there with a hulking, angry Heathcliff, I’ll scare him off. This is the biggest clue we’ve had yet, and I won’t let you frighten him into silence.”
“Fine. But Quoth’s going in with you.” Heathcliff flung open the door of the cage and plonked the heavy raven on my shoulder.
I’ll watch out for you.Quoth’s soothing voice fell into my head. I glared at Heathcliff until he retreated into the shadows of the trees lining the edge of the park, then took off toward the house.
The front garden was in an even worse state of disrepair than last time. As I approached the front door, a figure darted from the side of the house and sprinted down the lane that ran between Dave’s block of flats. It might’ve been my wonky eyes playing tricks on me, but itlookedlike the figure wore a white angel costume that looked like it was splattered with red paint.
That was Tara Delphine,Quoth said.Should I follow her?
“Go.” I shoved him off my shoulder. He swooped into the lane after Tara, leaving me alone on the stoop. Fear twisted in my gut.What’s she doing here, and why did she run as soon as she saw me approach?
I raised my fist to knock, but realized the door was already open a crack. I pushed it with my foot, desperately not wanting to step inside but knowing I had no choice.
I cast a glance over my shoulder. I couldn’t see across the street to Heathcliff, but knowing he was there, ready to run in, fists flying, gave me the jolt of bravery I needed to surge forward. I stepped inside. Kate peered out at me from the photographs lining the walls – the same bright green eyes and smiling face on a hundred different costumes, each one revealing a facet of her personality. I noticed a gap where one of the larger images was missing. Maybe that particular image was too much for Dave. I tried to remember which costume it was, but I drew a blank.
The house was silent.Eerilysilent.
“Dave?” I whispered. No reply. I tried again, louder this time. “Dave. It’s Mina. Where are you?”
I stepped over a pile of disarrayed shoes – mostly men’s shoes but a couple of pairs of chunky pink women’s boots – and a cooler bag with a bottle of wine and some cheese and crackers poking out, and peered into the living room.
A scream froze in my throat.
Dave Danvers lay on the floor, wearing a school uniform that could only come from Hogwarts, a black robe flared out beneath him like angel wings. His fingers clutched a long, gnarled wand snapped in two, and his face froze in an expression of unthinkable horror.
