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 lastnight; 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.”
Hewas 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?
