thought that they might be brilliant. Genius, almost. His favorite was an etching of a family eating dinner—mom and dad and three pretty girls. There was a large roast on the table, and all the family members were eating pieces of it greedily, some with juice dripping down their chins. Underneath the table, although it wasn’t obvious at first look, one of the girls was missing a leg, severed just under the knee. It looked freshly bandaged. The title of the etching was “Christmas that year came and went most pleasantly.”
Henrietta Mazur’s art was so interesting that Matthew, for a time, forgot why he was researching her in the first place. He found himself studying several of her pieces and beginning to wonder how much a signed print would cost. He could already imagine one hanging in his office.
Before shutting down his computer, he did one more search, using “Henrietta Mazur” and looking to see if there were any news stories about her. There was one gallery announcement, from eight years ago, and then there was a story about a Henrietta Mazur who had been involved in an incident at Camden College about fifteen years earlier. Matthew almost skipped it, thinking it was another Henrietta Mazur, but the phrase “Ms. Mazur, an art major who had won several awards in high school for her dark and arresting sketches and paintings” made it clear that it was his neighbor. She had been charged with criminal assault for attacking a fellow student. Matthew read all the stories he could find. It wasn’t entirely clear what had transpired, but the basics were that Henrietta had had some sort of breakdown and had become convinced that a fellow student was trying to kill her. She’d raised these concerns with both her college adviser and the local police, but then she’d attacked the other student herself, winding up in a psychiatric hospital and then court. Reading the articles, Matthew got the strange feeling that, even though it was clear the young Henrietta had had a break with reality, maybe she’d been right. One of the articles had a picture of the other girl in the case—Daphne Myers—and Matthew recognized something in Daphne’s dead eyes, even through the pixelated image on the screen.
And now Henrietta Mazur was after him, sending cops his way, probably spying on him. It occurred to Matthew that Henrietta’s criminal past could help him, if it came to it. He suddenly wasn’t nervous. He felt strangely calm and just a little bit excited that his new neighbor seemed to suspect who he really was.
That evening Matthew’s brother called.
“When’s Mira getting back?” Richard asked.
“Later tonight.”
“Too bad. I was going to come over again. I have something to show you.”
The last time Richard had said those words, he’d shown Matthew a truly disturbing website.
“Why are you showing me this?” Matthew had asked.
“Relax. They’re just actors. I’m showing you because can you imagine if Dad had been alive when the internet was around? He would’ve thrived on this stuff, don’t you think?”
“Sounds like you’re thriving on it yourself.”
“This shit, not really. I’m just showing you because I was thinking of Dad. Remember how we used to think he was one of a kind, you know, a true original, like Dracula or Frankenstein.”
“I don’t really remember that.”
“Well, I thought it. And now it’s pretty clear that there’s a whole shitload of men out there who think just like Dad. Enough to support a website like this. It’s a strange world, Matthew.”
Richard had been almost thoughtful that time. He’d drunk too much, though, and Matthew had caught him masturbating the next morning in the living room, the laptop open on his lap, a look of shame and happiness in his eyes.
“What is it you wanted to show me?” Matthew asked on the phone.
“I met someone.”
“Oh, yeah. Has she met you yet?”
“Not in the flesh, but we’ve exchanged a few messages. I wanted to show you some of the pictures she posts.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. When’s Mira leaving again?”
“Not for a while, Richard. You’re going to be okay, aren’t you?”
Richard laughed, but said he’d be fine, and that was the end of the conversation. Despite being disgusted by his brother, Matthew worried about him all the time. And it wasn’t just worry about his brother; he worried about what he might do. He knew, more than anyone, just what the Dolamores were capable of.
When Mira returned that night Matthew was already in bed.
“Shh, keep