If Butcher really was Lena Tran’s husband, I had one way to keep him from killing me. Give him someone else.
I looked at him through the fox mask.
“You want to know why I know so much?”
Butcher said nothing.
Horseman looked up from the floor.
“Because I know who killed Lena Tran.”
The room went still.
A lie only works when the person hearing it wants it to be true.
Horseman had just proven that.
Now I needed to see whether Butcher would too.
He stepped closer.
“You just said you killed her.”
“I said that to see how much Horseman really knew.”
“So your story was fake?”
“Half.”
“Which half was real?”
“I was inside Lena’s condo that night.”
One of his fingers flexed.
The line under my feet got thinner.
Too little and he wouldn’t believe me.
Too much and I’d hang myself with my own details.
“Which half was false?” he asked.
“I didn’t kill her.”
“Who did?”
I let the question hang.
A brown notebook came back to me.
The stuck drawer in Lena’s bedroom.
I’d opened it because I thought there might be cash inside.
There wasn’t.
There was a journal.
I hadn’t read the whole thing.
Burglars have schedules too.
But I’d flipped through several pages looking for hidden money or cards.
One line had stuck because it sat alone between blocks of crossed-out writing:
I hate Dad, but Mia isn’t Dad. Why do I get angry before I even answer when she calls?
The same name appeared again and again.
Mia.
I said, “Her sister.”
Butcher went very still.
Horseman frowned. “Who’s Mia?”
Nobody answered him.
Butcher asked, “Where did you get that name?”
“Her journal.”
“Where?”
“Bedroom. Bottom drawer.”
“The stuck one.”
“Yes.”
His gaze stayed on me.
I couldn’t tell whether the answer helped or hurt.
“What did she write?”
“I don’t remember all of it.”
“But you remember Mia.”
“She came up a lot.”
“Relationship?”
I rebuilt the fragments I’d seen.
“Half sisters. Same father. Lena’s mother never forgave him for the affair that produced Mia. Lena mostly cut that side of the family off when she got older.”
Horseman muttered, “And that means murder?”
Butcher looked at him once.
Horseman shut up.
I continued.
“Mia still came to Lena for help.”
“What kind?”
“Money.”
A pause.
“How much?”
“Don’t know. I only read a few pages.”
Butcher moved closer.
“Then why are you saying Mia killed her?”
This was the dangerous part.
I couldn’t tell him the real reason I knew the truth wasn’t what Horseman had described.
I could only build a story that fit whatever suspicions he already had.
“I was inside before everything was over. I heard two women arguing.”
“Saw them?”
“Not clearly.”
“Then how do you know one was Mia?”
“Lena said her name.”
That was the first completely invented detail.
I kept my voice steady.
“Mia came for money. At first they were talking. Then it turned into a fight. I heard something about a hospital. Their father. Bills.”
Horseman murmured, “Sounds believable.”
Butcher ignored him.
“Then?”
“I hid in the bedroom. Heard water. Heard them arguing again.”
Butcher cut in immediately.
“Mia had already left.”
I stopped.
Only half a second.
He was testing me.
“I don’t know that.”
“You just said they argued again.”
“I said I heard a woman again.”
“But you didn’t see her.”
“No.”
“Then why are you still calling her Mia?”
I said nothing.
The room changed.
Horseman looked from me to Butcher.
Butcher asked, “Is Mia right-handed or left-handed?”
I didn’t know.
“How tall is she?”
Silence.
“Any tattoos?”
Sweat collected under the mask.
These weren’t questions about a murder theory.
They were questions about a person.
And the woman pretending to be Fox should have known the answers.
“Why does that matter?”
“Answer.”
“It doesn’t.”
“You’re accusing Lena’s sister of murder, but you don’t know what she looks like?”
Wrong turn.
I’d gone too far.
From the moment I walked out of the bathroom, I’d assumed Butcher knew Fox only through an anonymous board.
Mask.
Voice filter.
Screen name.
But if he was Lena’s husband, he might know Mia.
Or at least know what Mia should know about herself.
He stepped closer.
“You said you read the journal. What did Lena call her father?”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“At home. What name did she use for him? What did Mia call him?”
Nothing.
Horseman began to understand.
He gave a ragged laugh.
“Maybe this one is fake too.”
“Shut up,” I snapped.
Too fast.
His laugh widened.
Butcher raised one hand and Horseman stopped.
Then Butcher looked only at me.
“When did you join the board?”
I remembered what the real Fox had told me.
“After Lena died.”
“How long after?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Fox made her first post eleven days later. What was it about?”
I didn’t know.
“You forgot the murder you used to get onto the board?”
He knew.
Or close enough.
I stood.
“Does that matter? I just told you who-”
He caught my wrist.
Fast.
I tried to pull free.
Couldn’t.
He yanked me off balance, then reached for the fox mask.
I twisted away.
Too late.
Click.
The clasp opened.
Cold air hit my face.
Butcher stared at me.
I stared back.
For the first time that night, he saw who was actually behind the mask.
Horseman’s mouth opened.
Then he laughed.
“Holy shit.”
Butcher’s expression didn’t become angry.
It became colder.
“You’re not Fox.”
I didn’t insult either of us by denying it.
“No.”
“Who are you?”
“I told you. I was in Lena’s condo.”
“Who are you?”
“A burglar.”
Horseman stopped laughing.
Butcher looked at Fox’s jacket on me, then the heels, then the hallway.
“Where is she?”
I said nothing.
His grip tightened.
“Where is Fox?”
“Bathroom.”
He let go immediately and turned.
After two steps, he looked back.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you wearing her clothes?”
“Because the door is locked. I was trying to get out.”
Probably the truest sentence I’d spoken all night.
Butcher went down the hallway.
I rubbed my wrist.
Run.
That was the thought.
But the front door was still locked.
The key might be on him.
Horseman was still against the couch.
Fox was tied in the bathroom.
The situation couldn’t get worse.
Then something hit the bathroom wall.
Butcher’s voice followed.
“Come out.”
No answer.
“Now.”
A moment later he reappeared, pulling the woman I’d tied by one arm.
She stumbled after him, hair loose, gag still in place, red marks around both wrists.
She saw me.
Her expression promised that if we both survived the night, she would deal with me personally.
Butcher tossed the fox mask onto the floor.
Clack.
He ripped away the gag.
She coughed.
“Listen to me-”
Butcher grabbed her chin and forced her face up.
For the first time, all the control left him.
“Mia.”
I went still.
So did she.
Butcher stared at her.
“There you are.”
I looked at Fox.
Then remembered the journal.
The name I’d just used to save my life.
Mia Tran.
Lena’s younger half sister.
Fox wasn’t only investigating her sister’s murder.
She was the person I’d just blamed for it.
And from Butcher’s face, I knew he’d suspected her long before I ever opened my mouth.
2 thoughts on “CHAPTER 6 – THE FALSE FOX”