“And you’re looking like a rat turd on the bottom of my shoe.”
Neither man at the bar can fight a laugh at the old crone getting in a jab at the Baron King, and honestly, I smile under the mask, grateful that she can’t see it. Delores Crane is a legend in Forsyth–keeping more secrets in her head than most people have in their graves. I approach the bar, slide a hundred-dollar bill across the scarred wood. “Give the boys a round of drinks. Maybe one for yourself.”
She snatches the cash and shoves it into her ample bosom without ceremony. “Get your own goddamn drinks,” she barks, eyeing the room. “Secret meetings between Royals sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”
“Delores, chill,” Rathbone drawls, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Nothing shady’s going on other than whatever the fuck you tried to serve for dinner last night.”
She flips him off without looking.
Approaching the table, I take a seat, and note, “Many things have changed over the years in Forsyth, but the mouth on Delores Crane isn’t one of them.”
“That woman is a crusty bitch, but she’s our crusty bitch.” Killiansmiles before his face grows serious. “But she’s not wrong. This meeting is unorthodox. Gathering without every active house present isn’t how we do things.”
“It’s how people get killed,” Sy adds, clearly in agreement.
“You’ll understand my hesitation to include East End in this meeting soon. It’s for their good as well as ours.” I drop a file before each of the men. They both eye them uneasily, but Killian's curiosity wins first, flipping it open. Inside are photocopies I’ve made from the police reports Max brought me.
“What is this?” Sy asks, not moving to read the report.
“A little bit of Forsyth history,” I reply, sitting back and letting them absorb the details. “It was your Duchess that got me curious about a connection between the past murders in Forsyth and current ones.”
“Lav is a little obsessed,” Sy says, scratching his neck. “She’s deep in with the Carver stuff but?—”
“Holy fuck,” Killian swears, then looks up at me. “Seriously?”
“Confirmed,” I say, and we both wait for Sy to catch up. He flips open the report and reads quickly. His breath catches when he sees it. “Now you understand the reason for discretion.”
“Lex Ashby’s father was the Forsyth Carver?” Killian asks.
“It appears so. The boy found at the scene was placed into the system and adopted by Rufus. The very first of his wayward sons.”
“Although this is surprising, these crimes can’t be connected,” Sy says. “They don’t even fall into copycat range.”
“A series of murders, all college age and connected to Greek life,” Killian says. “How is that not a fucking copycat?”
“Because so far none of the victims have been used for carving practice!” Sy’s fist lands on the table. “Look,” he says, taking several deep breaths. “I know it looks bad, and I know you’re going to think I’m just protecting Verity–”
“Which wealwayswill,” Nick shouts from the bar.
“I don’t think Lex is a killer.” He looks between us, a flicker of uncertainty in his blue eyes. “Do you?”
“You have to admit it’s a little on the nose,” Killian says.
“Too on the nose,” Sy argues. “Serial killer genetics are unproven–there’s no solid evidence of a correlation between a parent’s behavior and a child’s. Plenty of monsters raise normal kids, and plenty of normal parents raise monsters. The Carver’s signature was surgical–clean cuts, posed bodies, no bugs, no staging like this. This feels… theatrical. Like someone’s trying to invoke the legend without copying the playbook.”
Ritualistic.
I don’t dare say the word out loud.
“What about you?” Killian turns to me. “Do you think he did it?”
I think on it long and hard, the same way I have since Max brought me the report. I don’t have proof, but my gut leads me to say, “Unlikely. I’m not even sure when he would’ve had the time with his academics and Rufus’ demands.” I tap my gloved fingers on the tabletop. “Now that he has a Princessanda child? I can’t see it.”
“There are plenty of sadistic men in Forsyth that are also fathers,” Sy notes, his harsh tone set in my direction. Our eyes meet, and there’s a moment where he could reveal it all–tell Killian the truth about my identity. That Timothy Maddox wears the Baron King’s mask.
That I’m one of those sadistic fathers.
And I’ll be the one to tell them what we’re doing next.
