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He gave me a wink and a cocky grin. “Maybe we can open up our own agency together. Sherlock and Watson, except we’re a fanfic where they fuck. A lot.”
I kissed him again. Couldn’t help it. “I like that plan,” I said, turning back to the hidden door. I put a hand on the brick that looked the most worn-out, likely out of years of use. It moved, inches at first, until something gave way and the entire chunk of brick wall opened up wide, revealing a glowing purple and blue room behind it.
The glow came from two massive aquariums, much larger than any of the ones that had been in the previous room. The water was crystal clear, and clown fish of all types swam inside them, drifting in and out of a bed of bright anemones glowing a neon blue and red under the aquarium lights. There were potted plants that had timed lamps attached to them, thriving up toward the ground, as if knowing the sun was only a couple of feet away. There was a small cot with a stack of books next to it. I recognized the topmost book:Twisting Razors. The same book we were reading in Tristan’s book club.
At least the Midnight Chemist had good taste in books, if not a little too on the nose.
“This is… insane.” Tristan looked around the room, the blue and purple glow bouncing off his pearl necklace.
“It’s a hideout inside of a hideout. I can’t believe the cops missed this.” I looked to Tristan, appreciative of him facing his fears to be here. “And without you, I might have missed it, too.”
“You would have found it,” Tristan said with a dismissive wave. He went to a shelf, the clear case containing a row of clearly labeled vials.
Actinostephanus haeckeli.
Phyllodiscus semoni.
T. stephensoni.
A quick Google search revealed what we were looking at. “These are some of the most toxic sea anemone species in existence,” I said, looking back at the tanks containing what now appeared to be a farm of powerful venom. They seemed harmless, like a rainbow-colored garden—only underwater. But I remember learning quickly after my Jungle Warfare training anything bright and colorful was likely lethal as all hell. The unnatural colors were supposed to serve as a warning.
I opened the glass case and picked out a vial. “There’s a lot number,” I said, tilting over the vial of milky liquid. “Maybe these weren’t bought that long ago.”
Tristan nodded, smiling. “It could be how we find this fucker.”
“Possibly.” I took a photo of the vial, along with the rest of the neatly organized shelf. It was cooler inside the case, too. I noticed a vent behind the vials that must have worked to regulate the temperature.
Whoever built this knew what they were doing.
I crouched down and opened a drawer. There were more empty vials, along with some syringes and gloves. Curiously, next to those items was a neatly organized makeup section. Nothing too elaborate, but there were a couple of items that caught my attention. A foundation for someone with a lighter complexion told me more about how this person looked, along with a brush that must have had some sort of DNA trace on it. There was ChapStick and lotion and some other skin care things but nothing of note.
The next drawer had an even more interesting find: cell phones. Quite a few of them. Mostly older-model iPhones but a couple of others thrown in as well. And they were all labeled with the same neat handwriting that had written the labels on the vials.
Names. Familiar names. Ones I had burned into my memory after hours and hours of digging through the lives of each name.
All of these were victims of the Midnight Chemist. He had kept their phones. That wasn’t something even the cops had revealed—or maybe they didn’t even know.
One of the phones didn’t have a label. I found that to be a little odd. Why were all the rest clearly marked and this one was set to the side without any way to tell whose it was? It was a newer iPhone, too, different from the ones that didn’t even have tracking yet.
I grabbed the unlabeled phone. I held the power button down, but the screen stayed dead. It needed a charge.
“Who do you think that belongs to?” Tristan asked, looking down at the phone.
“We’re going to find out.” I looked around, wondering if there were any other hidden clues. I was starting to see the full picture, but there were pieces missing. We weren’t at the finish line yet.
“Let’s see if—”BANG.
We froze, solidifying into a pair of breathing statues. I broke the icy spell first, yanking my gun out from the holster and aiming it out toward the rest of the basement.
That was the trapdoor that led down here. Someone had slammed it shut.
A loudzapsound followed the bang and then a quick flicker as the lights all turned off in unison, the power having been turned off, plunging us into a sudden and all-consuming night.
23
TRISTAN HALL
I fumbled for my phone,digging into my pocket and yanking it out, my hand shaking as I hit the flashlight button.
