My thoughts are still spinning on possible scenarios when I hear Will call my name from the main room. He looks flushed, as if he’s scrambled to get here, and it feels surprisingly good to see him. To know I can get through to him when I need to, and that he’ll find a way to come.

It takes me a while to explain my message-board theory once I’ve shown Will the posting, how it could have been used to target Cameron and possibly Shannan, too. Then I lead him to the storage area, where I’ve left the paintings propped against the wall, not wanting to handle them further in case they’re useful somehow to the investigation.

“These are Jack’s?” Will asks incredulously.

“Crazy, right? It could be a total coincidence that they’re here.”

“Or they’re Caleb’s and he’s involved somehow,” Will jumps to add.

“Caleb? Why would you think that?”

“Because all of Jack’s work belongs to him.”

“Exactly. If he knows about their existence, I mean if he himself has a connection to this studio, wouldn’t he have sold them like he sold everything else? He must not know they’re here.”

“Maybe. Or it could be that his complicated tie to his dad would make him want to hold on to these, right?”

I shrug to acknowledge the possibility as Will calls Leon on his walkie, explaining to him that we have a potential crime scene to process, and that he should alert the team.

Then he turns back to me. “Do we know who was in here last?”

“All the files are in the gallery office. It’s not open yet, but the caretaker’s name is Stan Wilkes. He’s the one who let me in. I could be totally off base with the message-board angle, but I don’t think so.”

“If you are right, he could have reached other girls this way. Maybe he’s already got another victim in his sight lines.”

“I know. These postings could be all up and down the coast by now.”

Will nods, and then stoops to take a closer look at the front-most canvas, still propped with the others against the wall of the storage area. The lighting is bad and the painting’s surface is aged and covered with dust, but the image is visible for all that. It’s abstract and almost primitive looking with a limited use of color, just black and white and blue. The shapes are dramatically angular, and suggestive of something I can’t quite place until Will points it out.

“I think this is supposed to be the carving above the Masonic Hall.”

“Oh, shit. You’re right,” I say, wondering why I didn’t see that right away. “It’s Time and the Maiden. What about the others?”