Page 42 of Bloody Quarter

I gripped his hand tighter, hesitation filling me as I wondered what the hell I was going to find. What would excite a serial killer to the point of childish glee? “There isn’t another dead body, is there?”

“Valid question, but no.” I relaxed. “At least not one that I’ve killed.” And then he said that.

Greyson pushed open the door and flicked on the light. I held my breath as I stepped inside the room. I couldn’t make out what exactly I was staring at, but the longer I looked around, the more it began to make sense. It felt like we’d stepped into an FBI movie where they had a massive war room with pictures of crimes and newspaper clippings. Red lines traveled all over the walls. There was also a map with pushpins and dates beside each one. There were crime scene photos of bodies, some in black plastic bags, while others were close-ups of images that had been carved into people.

“What…what is all of this?”

“This is the greatest serial killer who has ever lived. I don’t care what anyone says. They can debate me until they are blue in the face, but….” Greyson pointed at the wall of images that all had deceased written across them in marker. “He is the undisputed best. The GOAT. The man that no one will ever catch.”

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Greyson walked me over to the closest wall and ran his hand lovingly over one of the images as he admired it. It was a close-up of a woman from the stomach up. Her skin had been carved into highly detailed artwork. Her eyes were missing, but colored cloth had been sewn into their place. I stared at the pictures, and my stomach wasn’t sure it agreed with him.

“This is some of his earlier work. His later stuff is even better.” Once more, Greyson led me along the wall and began tapping prison photos. “These are his later kills. Each of these men was on the FBI’s Most Wanted List.”

“And they’re all dead?”

Greyson nodded, his eyes glittering with a manic excitement. “They are.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you showing me this? Do you want to kill him?”

His mouth dropped open. “No…well, I would if that was the only way to become the best, but if I’m honest….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Unless he trained me, I don’t think I could ever achieve all of this. There are hundreds of kills, and those are only the ones I’ve been able to find in newspapers or on the dark web. No, I think of him as a mentor, someone I aspire to become.”

“And no one knows who he is? How is that possible?”

I shrugged. “I know who he is now.” Greyson slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a square napkin from the bar. He held it out for me to see. The Chameleon. I glanced between the words and Greyson’s face, trying to understand what he saw. “He came into my bar. He spoke to me and told me that he liked my work and that it was creative.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Congratulations, another serial killer is wandering around New Orleans, and he knows who you are and likes how you kill. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to find that on a Carlton Card.

“That’s amazing,” I said, and Greyson let go of my hand to walk over to a board that looked to have random bits and bobs on it. Delicately, he slipped the napkin inside of a plastic holder and pinned it to the board.

“It is. He came looking for me.”

I walked back over to the board of this Chameleon’s later victims and pointed. “What did they all do to wind up on the Most Wanted List?”

“You name it. Serial rapists, murderers, and pedophiles mostly. But some ran cults, and others bombed high-value targets.”

“So…I don’t mean to burst your happiness here, but can you tell me why you think he is not after you next? I mean, if he hunts those who do things like he does, wouldn’t it make sense?” Worry filled me as I stared around the shrine of a room.

Greyson held up his finger and smiled. “Because if he wanted to kill me, I’d never see him coming. In fact, I’d already be dead.”

“How can you be so sure?” Was I really concerned that a serial killer could be after my serial killer? That was a messed-up mental puzzle for another time.

Greyson crooked his finger at me, and I wandered over to where he was standing. He pointed at an extremely detailed sketch. I sucked in a gasp, my hand going to my mouth as I took in the truly magnificent image. It was so lifelike that I could see the tears on my face as my hand touched my sister’s stone. The other half of the image was of a man in what looked like an open, hooded cloak. I couldn’t see more than his chin and nose, but I knew it was Greyson. The large upside down cross on his chest announced it, and so did the unique knife in his hand. Every little detail was sketched to perfection.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“He was watching me while I was watching you. And he was around for more than one night. This position you’re in was the first time I saw you, but his image of me is from another night while I waited for you to return. This one picture tells me that we both would’ve been dead long before he spoke to me in the bar. He knew who I was and my schedule. The Chameleon was following me without me ever knowing. I’m amazing at what I do, and I had no idea.”

Greyson smiled like this was the best thing ever as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the piece of art.

“So, where did he leave this for you?”

“Right here. It wasn’t here yesterday. He was in my home.” Greyson’s eyes found mine, the exuberance almost infectious, and yet I had an urge to look over my shoulder to make sure this man wasn’t coming up the stairs. “The Chameleon has sent me a message, and I’m getting it loud and clear.”

I touched his arm and said a word that I never thought I’d say in a scenario like this. “Congratulations.”

Greyson

Grabbing Alora’s wrist, she jumped but didn’t fight me as I pushed her back up against the wall and dropped my lips to hers. She was stiff in my hold at first, but as she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back with the same ferocity that was racing through my body, I knew it was time.