Chapter 7: The Inside Man

By Tuesday afternoon, a heavy autumn rain had swept through the county, leaving the oaks surrounding the cul-de-sac dripping and the gravel lanes slick with mud. The grey, muted daylight matched the somber mood hanging over number seven.

Inside the Lee house, the atmosphere was a stark contrast—warm, vibrant, and buzzing with the electric afterglow of Sunday night’s total conquest of the Kowalskis. Heaven sat on the living room sofa, her legs curled beneath her, watching the rain beat against the glass. Marcus stood by the window, a cup of black coffee in his hand, his eyes tracking the street.

“Tom’s car is in the driveway next door,” Marcus said, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. “Linda’s school board meeting starts at four. He’s alone.”

Heaven smiled, leaning her head back against the cushions. “He’s been texting me all morning, Marcus. He’s terrified Frank or Denise will say something to Linda. He feels the net tightening.”

“Good,” Marcus said, turning from the window with a calculating look. “Fear is an excellent motivator. It’s time to call him over and give him his instructions. If he wants to keep tasting you, he has to pay the admission fee.”

Ten minutes later, a frantic knock sounded at the back door. Heaven answered it, letting a soaked, shivering Tom Grayson into the kitchen. He had a rain jacket pulled up high, his face pale, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept a full hour since Thursday night in the hot tub.

“Heaven, thank God,” Tom breathed, stepping inside and looking around anxiously. “Marcus ... is Marcus here? I can’t keep doing this. I feel like Linda looks at me and knows. She asked me why I was smiling when we looked at your house Sunday night. I’m losing my mind.”