“He must have put a lot in that notebook,” he commented as we used the same code to unlock the back door and waltz right inside. Sebastian used the flashlight on his phone to reveal a bright-blue kitchen.
“He filled every page, front and back,” I said as we walked single file through the house, using his flashlight to guide us. Everything was various shades of blue—the floors, the ceiling, the furniture, all blue. I wondered if he had guests often, and if it gave them the same unsettling feeling it was giving me. It was all decorated stylishly, so it didn’t look unnatural, but having read his innermost thoughts, I knew it wasn’t just a design choice.
He needed the blue.
Just like my mother had needed the pink.
My mother had hidden behind the color pink. She’d made it part of her personality, something everyone who knew her used to identify her. She’d told me once that she’d grown up in a poor household, where they didn’t have luxury items. But on her fifteenth birthday, her father, unable to afford a full, traditional quinceañera party, had a dress made and gifted it to her. It was pink, and despite having nowhere to wear it, she wore it in her room every day, dreaming of the day she’d have a closet full of dresses and a million places to wear them. That soft shade of pink was what she surrounded herself with to protect herself from the harsh reality of life.
I wondered if that was why Charles chose blue, because it was the opposite of my mother’s house.
“Why is everything blue?” Sebastian asked as we started up the stairs. “You notice that?”
“I did.”
“Must be his favorite color.”
Actually, I was pretty sure it was pink. After the breakup with my mother, though...
We reached a room where another code was needed. When 0510 didn’t work, I tried it backwards, and it unlocked.
Sebastian went first and froze. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Flicking a light on, despite the risk of being seen, I peered past him. And then I saw why he’d frozen.
This was the only room we’d seen that wasn’t blue. It was pink.
“This is...”
“An exact replica of the room I sleep in?” I stepped inside, looking around in a mix of surprise and unease. The bedding, the walls, the furniture—all of it was a double of my mother’s room.
“This is creepy. Maybe hewaspsycho.”
“No, I don’t think so.” I shook my head and went to the closet, mildly surprised to find his clothes inside and not hers. “I think he was neurodivergent of some kind and his friends took advantage of it. He was smart and talented, obviously. Just...”
“Fascinating,” Sebastian muttered, pulling open drawers on the vanity table. “Are these her makeup and creams too?”
I joined him on the other side of the room and scanned the table. They were all the same ones sitting on the table at home. It was like he never left that relationship.
“How did he explain this when he brought partners home?” Sebastian shook his head.
“I doubt he did. This was a shrine to my mom.” I shuddered. “He wouldn’t dare let anyone in here.”
As we explored the room, I began to have doubts. If he was this obsessed with her, could he have been a willing participant in her rape and murder? Or was there more to the story that we didn’t know?
“Evie, I think I found something,” Sebastian called from the closet.
I hurried over and found him crouched on the floor, pulling out a cardboard box from the back.
“What is it?” I asked, squatting down beside him.
He opened the top, and my heart dropped. There were stacks and stacks of notebooks, just like the one I had left in the car.
“Holy shit,” I said under my breath.
A loud crash that sounded like splintering wood came from downstairs. We froze and looked at each other with wide eyes.
What the fuck was that?
