Age: c. 20years old
Occupation: Second-year university student/agency staff
Description: White female, dyed blond hair, dark eyes, approx. 5ft 9in, slim build
Cause of death: Homicide. Throat cut/lacerated. (Weapon???)
Unusual aspects: Posed with a blindfold. (Belt from a coat—note: coat appeared missing—possible trophy???). Lots of blood at scene and scattered disposable cups—may point to an unorganized suspect
I stand back, briefly seeing a future where Dad and Kim disown me, but instead I focus on the last thing I wrote. Maybe the blood was meant to be collected in one of those cups? And was there hair missing? I wish I could read the crime scene report. Knowing what I do now about The Four having blood and hair mixed in with the paint makes that seem like a plausible idea, especially if I’m right about there being a copycat in town.
I move along to the second picture and repeat the process, filling in Jen’s details this time. It’s harder to fill in the gaps because I never saw her body, but thanks to Detective Romig being so loose lipped around Jake, I know enough to make a start.
Victim Two: Jennifer Lee
Date: Friday 7th August, after 10:30 pm/early (before 6 am?) Saturday morning
Age: c. 18years old
Occupation: College student
Description: British Korean female, black hair, brown eyes, approx. 5 ft 6 in, athletic build.
Cause of death: Homicide, method currently unknown
Unusual aspects: Flower crown (?) at scene/on body
I hesitate before writing the next bit. If I’m right about this, then everything changes. I tear a couple of pieces from the roll of tape and stick them on the back of my hand as I pick up the necklace. I hold back a sob as I take it back to the wall and tack it under the portrait. I draw a shaky breath as I finish the final line.
Possible trophy—nameplate necklace reading “Jennifer” found after suspect dropped his bag
“What the hell is all this?” I fumble my pen at the sound of Izzy’s voice. She crosses into the room, a look of horror etched on her face. “Fliss?”
“It’s a collage…?” I try an ill-timed joke, which is usually our love language, but it falls flat. Izzy’s eyes race back and forth as she reads the notes on the wall, and when she reaches the end she audibly gasps.
“Suspect? As inNoah? You think Noah did this?”
“No,” I say, my voice unconvincing even to me. “I’m just throwing out ideas.”
“Fliss, this is mental,” Izzy hisses. “Seriously, if anyone else saw this,you’dbe a suspect. It looks like the work of a psychopath!”
“I’m trying tostopa psychopath,” I say, my voice louder than I intended, but it’s so frustrating that she can’t see what I’m trying to do. “Iknewthere was something more to what happened to Helen. We’ve been in danger the whole time, Izzy. We probably still are! I’m trying to keep ussafe. For all we know, last night your drinkwasspiked andyouwere the intended victim, notJen!”
“You can’t be serious,” she groans, walking back to the door. “Fliss, you’re paranoid! Everything that’s happened is just a horrible coincidence. Noah is our friend! There’s more chance that painting has cursed us all with bad luck than us being trapped in a real-life horror movie where he’s the bad guy. There aren’t serial killers around every corner, as much as you want there to be.”
“I don’t want there to be.” I clench my jaw and look back at the wall. Yes, fine, now that I’m standing back, it does look a little unhinged, but why can’t Izzy see how obvious it is that these deaths are linked? “And I’m not saying Noah did anything, I’m just saying he’s a suspect. If you and I weren’t together all last night, we’d be suspects too. We were some of the last people to see Jen alive!”
Izzy shrugs. “I don’t remember you being here all night.”
My heart rate speeds up as I digest her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shuffles her weight uncomfortably, shifting from one footto the other. “I was fast asleep. You could have gone out, and I’d never have heard you, would I?”
“So I could have killed Jen?” I say, throwing my hands up in exasperation. There’s no way she actually believes I’d be capable of doing something like that, does she? “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“It’s only as far-fetched as thinking Noah did it! I thought youlikedhim!”
“I did!” I scream, trying to raise my voice over hers, but to my surprise it breaks, and I choke back a sob. “I do. But we have literally just seen that he had a necklace in his bag with Jen’s name on it.”