Four Will Die: The Chameleon Killer Chronicles Book 2 by L.A. Detwiler

Author:L.A. Detwiler [Detwiler, L.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Finn

He hated how Indiana painted on the charm like he was some kind of boyfriend of the year, like the grandson who had angel wings when Finn knew the truth. Setting the table perfectly, escorting the elderly lady to the head of the table, kissing Olivia’s cheek. If Finn didn’t know who he really was, he’d think he was a good guy from humble beginnings. He’d think he was nothing like that bastard who turned on him, who tortured that redheaded boy from the trailer court. He’d like him.

But he did know who he was, he reminded himself as his fingers grazed over the smooth, sterling polish of the knife and fork by his plate. Becky sat at his right, animatedly talking to Olivia about the holiday rush being over at the bookstore and complimenting the food. When everything was out, the five of them sat down. Indiana made a cheesy comment about skipping grace and digging in. They ate, they drank, they exchanged holiday stories. The food was begrudgingly, admittedly good, Indiana clearly knowing his way around the kitchen more than he was able to show off at work. And there was a detectable, warm holiday spirit present in the gathering that he’d never experienced before.

Not everything was perfect, however. Mrs. Thomas was clearly losing her marbles. She’d asked more than once where the Fourth of July fireworks were and picked up her slab of ham with her hands, forgetting what a fork was. Nonetheless, she looked at Finn with kind eyes and told him he was handsome. She exclaimed over and over that he was clearly going places. He saw in her a piece of Mrs. Reem, that sweet librarian who had believed in him when he was young. He couldn’t help but feel an affinity for her, even though it would be easier if he didn’t. He shoved the smidge of guilt down.

After dinner, when they all sat around the living room, the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner—she’d insisted Indiana put it up for the company—he put an arm around Becky and let himself inhale the soft, floral scent of her sweet shampoo. He thought about how this might be the closest thing to a traditional Christmas he’d ever had, the holidays of his childhood erased from his memory as depressing, gloomy, and quiet. Sitting in Indiana’s grandma’s house for a while, he could pretend he wasn’t that kid from the trailer. He could pretend he was sitting around with a family, a real holiday, even if it was dysfunctional at the core.

“Where’s Jinkins? Has anyone seen him?” Mrs. Thomas shouted out, snapping him back to the reality of the moment. This wasn’t a real holiday. This was a mission to get more information so he could murder Indiana with the least amount of hassle and maximum impact. That was what this was.

Indiana sighed. “Be right back,” he said, and headed to the kitchen. Finn waited a moment and then followed, Olivia and Becky lost in a conversation about makeup.

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