time, and then double-checking them afterward. She peered through the peephole for several seconds and then turned off the porch light.
“Is there a lot of crime here?” Faith asked, sounding merely curious.
“No.” Haven turned, patted the cat, and walked into the kitchen. “Follow me.” The woman moved gracefully past a fifties-diner-style table, older but well-kept appliances, and comfortable, light yellow Formica countertops to a steep staircase hidden by a narrow door. She walked up easily, flipping on lights as she went.
The smell of paint and turpentine filled the air.
Promise followed her, grabbing the noncompliant handrail, and made sure her button camera faced the front to capture everything. They emerged into a sprawling attic space with paint splotches covering the floor and every visible part of the walls. One whole wall was made of glass, no doubt remodeled to let in more light. “Wow.”
Haven pulled tarps off a couple of paintings. “Most of my work is in Northtown for a show I’m having in two weeks. But as I told you on the phone, I do have a few pieces still here, if you’re interested.”
“Exquisite.” Grace moved to the first painting, her attention clearly caught. “The movement in this is almost painful.”
The colors were deep purple and red with a hint of orange. Jagged rocks rose out of a bubbling amethyst ocean that spewed angry spray into black clouds tumbling across a furious sky. The harsh paint strokes almost conveyed sound, they were so wildly vibrant.
“Holy shit, I’ve been there,” Ivar muttered through the comms.
Haven pulled cloths off several more paintings. Each conveyed raw, brutal beauty.
Promise walked closer to a large painting of a swirling vortex that almost drew her in. “This is amazing. Where do you get your ideas?” She made sure to stand for a moment at each painting so the camera could record.
“Dreams, mainly,” Haven said, picking at dried paint on her left thumbnail. “I’m driven to be precise to a point of almost creating a photograph.”
“This place looks real,” Faith said, bending down to view a series of mountains in front of three suns, which turned the peaks a blood red. “The contrast between the wild, imaginative subjects and the style here creates a sense of astonishing power.”
Haven leaned against the one empty spot on the wall. “That’s the goal.”
The woman didn’t speak much. Promise took a deep breath and turned to face her. This was unbelievable. The ultra-preciseness of the brushstrokes were mathematical in nature, as was the way the rippled skies suggested the presence of dark matter. Or nearby dark holes. She had to force herself to finish her job here and not run off and immediately start working the math. “On the website, I saw a painting of a man with aqua-colored eyes. He was so compelling I couldn’t look away. Do you have that one here?”
“Nope.” Haven smoothed down black yoga pants beneath a pink T-shirt covered in paint stripes. “I don’t like to paint portraits, although the few times I have, they sold quickly.”
“Oh, shoot.” Promise forced a smile. “I really want that one. Any chance you remember who bought it?”
“No,” Haven said, straightening, her gaze direct and open.
If she was lying, she was exceptional at it. Of course, somebody raised the way she’d been would certainly learn to mask emotions and tell falsehoods, just to survive. “Do you remember the painting?” Promise pressed, infusing curiosity into her tone.
“I remember all of my paintings,” Haven said. “The guy you’re talking about is made up. I think I saw a movie, a horror story really, and he kind of looked like the guy in it. A combination of the guys in it.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”
That had to be a lie, since the painting was so obviously Quade. So yes, the woman could lie convincingly. Promise nodded. “I see.”
“I want this one.” Grace picked up a 2 x 3 abstract oil painting with greens, yellows, and oranges that moved as if it was running away. To something with light. “How much?”
They haggled over the price, and Grace pulled out the cash that Adare had given her.
Haven’s eyebrows lifted as she accepted the money. “You walk around with that kind of cash?”
“I knew I’d buy something,” Grace said, her eyes alight with intrigue.
Faith moved around. “Do you have anything more upbeat? I love these, I really do, but I often work with coma patients, and something soothing would probably be better for the family members who regularly visit and read to them.”