“Well, I thought Helen’s death looked posed, so I looked at the pictures of Jen to compare them,” I say hoarsely, and Izzy’s cheeks blanch, but she lets me continue. “She was tied to a park bench. And with Helen, the person didn’t just kill her, they kind of draped a belt round her shoulders. They blindfolded her, but did itafterthey killed her, which doesn’t really make sense.” I lift a hand to my throat, remembering the bloody scene.
“No, it doesn’t. But how do you know they did it after?” Izzy asks, and I can already hear the regret in her voice.
“Because the blood hadn’t soaked into the belt yet,” I say, wincing apologetically as I remember the conversation I had with Detective Romig. “If it had been used to restrain Helen, itwould have been covered in blood, wouldn’t it? Because the belt wouldhave been there before she was…you know.” I don’t need to remind Izzy that the blood was everywhere. “But there were just little splashes on it. I think she was killed first andthentied up. Like an afterthought.”
“But what’s the point in that? Surely the killer would have wanted to restrain her?” Izzy groans. “God, I’m starting to sound like you. What I mean is, wouldn’t whoever…did all that…want to get the hell out of there once they killed Helen? It was risky as it was—people had been milling around the gallery allevening!”
“Exactly. The only purpose the belt serves is to send a message. It was a messy scene, though, and the killer didn’t bring the belt with them. They took it from a coat already in the room. It might not have been planned at all.”
“Okay, fine. Sounds like this person was an opportunistic psychopath. So why are you so convinced that it’s a copycat killer?”
“Look.” I remove the portraits from my notebook and shuffle through the tarot cards until I find the Eight of Swords and the Strength card and place them all on the coffee table. “This is The Four, right? Look at them.”
“The first one is blindfolded,” Izzy says, her voice low.
“And bound, I think.” I point at the faint crisscrossing lines below the shoulders. “It’s hard to tell because of the way the painting fades out, but comparing this to Helen, they seem to be depicting the same idea.”
“So someone copied the painting? Why? Because they wereinspiredby it?”
“I think the killer was triggered when I found the self-portrait. They must have wanted to re-create The Four.” I point at the others. “You see the different elements in each painting?”
“Yeah, the first woman is wearing a blindfold and the second has, what…? Flowers?” Izzy grips my forearm in realization and her face drains of color. “Oh my god.Jen.”
“Exactly.” I look at the second painting. Like the other portraits that make up The Four, the woman is in a three-quarter profile, so you can see most of her face. It’s tilted toward the top right corner, as though she’s looking at something beyond the canvas. Her hair is dotted through with the small red flowers,and her expression is one of horror. The way Jen was posed is so eerily similar that I have to be right about this. I pick up the Eight of Swords and Strength cards and pass them to Izzy.
“So what’s with the tarot? You weren’t interested in them a week ago.”
“I know, but I figured out Professor Williams’s notes, and he seemed to think that the artist who painted The Four was creating his own version of these tarot cards. I think he was right, and I also think this copycat killer is doing the same thing now. They’re both using tarot as inspiration.”
“Fliss, that’s…I don’t know. A stretch?”
“Maybe. But look at everything together. It’s too similar to be a coincidence.” I lay the two cards beneath the portraits, and Izzy sucks in a breath. It’s undeniable. “I can try to profile potential victims based on what I know. That’s what the FBI do before they catch the bad guy. If I can nail the victimology, then I can try to figure out who’ll be next.”
“You sound nuts,” Izzy says softly, but she’s staring at the last two paintings now.
I study them too. The individual elements are a little more abstract and harder to decipher. The third portrait is wearing a headdress of some kind, but it’s spiky and appears to slice into the woman’s flesh. Maybe thorns? The last one seems almost pleasant in comparison, as the woman is surrounded by a halo of light. Dad would say that these two are almost religious in their imagery.
“They’re all so upsetting, aren’t they?” Izzy whispers.
“Yeah,” I agree. “They really are.”
“So you think that because the killer copied the first two paintings, they’re going to copy the others? Kill two more women?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” I say. “Iz, what if someone else dies and we could have stopped it?”
THIRTY-SIX
“You’ve been quiet,” I sayto Izzy as I open the bedroom door and check my watch—eleven o’clock. She disappeared back here after my bombshell and took the tarot cards with her. I know that was her way of shutting me down, but I need them.
She doesn’t look up from her phone. “I’m just tired.”
“We can go to bed, if you want.” I hover outside the door. Maybe I can sneak a look at the cards while she gets ready.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” She puts her phone down and swings her legs off the bed to face me. “What time are your dad and Kim home, again?”
“Early, I think.” I pause. “I’m going to ask Dad to take me to the station as soon as he gets home. I don’t care if Jake gets in trouble. I’ll tell them my theory and make sure they take it seriously—”
“There’s one thing you haven’t considered about all this, Fliss.” Izzy cuts me off. She swallows so hard I see her throat contract. “The curse.”
